“Git!!!”

 

We’ve been adopted by a cat. This process began during the winter, has had its ups and downs, and while we’ve experienced some moments when we despaired of the process, it seems to have been pretty much completed.  I write “pretty much” because with this cat we may never know. Though, what I’m about to share might indicate that she has indeed made her final decision about us.

 

The players:

 

Princess, the tabby cat who lives next door. She is about thirteen years old, has been a visitor to our deck and garden for a few years, and was hospitable to Lady Jane when Lady Jane was very much a cat on her own seeking food in the neighborhood.

 

Lady Jane, a calico cat who began showing up for food during the winter. We named her Lady Jane because we wanted a name to associate with Princess. There was a time we couldn’t touch Lady Jane, couldn’t pet her, couldn’t get close to her. Now she spends the night inside with us, gets lots of pets, plays with us (but don’t touch her tummy, she is a Venus cat trap and will get you!) and is quite affectionate.

 

Socks, a large male cat. We call him Socks because, of course, he is a black cat with white lower legs and paws.  Socks intimidates Princess and Lady Jane and eats their food.

 

Lady Jane and Princess have cat condos on our deck. We purchased them during the winter so they’d have warm places to stay. Lady Jane not only uses her cat condo for warmth, but when she is afraid she jumps inside it for security.

 

Okay, the stage is set, let’s have some action.

 

Yesterday morning, as I let Lady Jane outside and onto our back deck, I called for Princess so she could come over for her first breakfast. Princess is an outdoor cat and she normally sleeps on her parents’ patio, which is just feet from our deck. The two cats have two breakfasts. I feed them around 5:30 and Lisa, Princess’s mom, feeds them later. I suppose they are like Tolkien’s Hobbits, who maintained a custom of having a first breakfast and then a second breakfast.

 

Princess normally comes right over, expecting to be served dry food in one bowl and wet food in another, she will make her own decision as to just what she’ll eat on any given day, my job is to serve, not to ask questions. Yesterday, however, there was no Princess. I called again, then again, then again, but no Princess.

 

Okay, I thought, I’ll go inside and get some coffee and come back out and see if she shows up. Lady Jane was settling down on the deck, having already eaten in the house. As I opened the door and stepped inside, out of the corner of my eye I saw Lady Jane bolt into her cat condo, as I turned I saw Princess running up on the deck chased by Socks.

 

Instinctively I turned back onto the deck and yelled, “Git!”

 

Socks did just that, he turned around and was gone in a flash.

 

After making sure that Socks had left the area, I told Lady Jane she could come out of her condo, which she did. Then I brought Princess her breakfast and stayed outside for a few minutes just to make sure everything would be fine.

 

Then it hit me, when I yelled “Git” neither Lady Jane nor Princess ran, only Socks. A few months ago Lady Jane would have bolted too, but not now. They knew my “Git” voice was not for them, in fact, it was to protect them.

 

When I mentioned this to Vickie later in the morning, she said, “All Princess and Lady Jane hear from us are words of love, they have never heard words to cause fear. They knew you weren’t talking to them.”

 

O how I wish we were secure in God’s love for us in Jesus Christ. How I wish we knew that “God is love, and the one who abides in love abides in God, and God abides in him” (1 John 4:16). How I wish we knew that “Perfect love casts out all fear” (1 John 4:18). How I wish we lived in the assurance that “nothing can separate us from the love of God” (Romans 8:38 – 39).

 

Jesus says that His sheep know His voice (John 10:1 – 5).

 

Do we?

 

Are we living in the incredible love of God in Jesus Christ?

 

Are we sharing His amazing love with others?

 

Is His love our Way of Life?

 

1 Corinthians Chapter 13; 1 John Chapter 4.

 

Much love, from me to you in Jesus Christ.

 

Bob

 

 

The Loss Of A Pet

We lost our Lily on May 3, it was five years less a day since we lost our Lina, that was on May 4.  The following day a friend called to tell me that they would have to put their puppy to sleep on May 6. A few days later, after a conversation with my friend, I felt I needed to write him.

What a mysterious gift God has given us in our pets. Mysterious and undeserved. 

Good morning dear friend,

I know I need to write you this morning, not to assuage your pain at the loss of Buddy, but to simply walk with you in some measure; not to give you answers, but to listen with you for that Voice of assurance. (Maybe even for that bark that communicates “all is well”.)

Little did I know when I answered the phone last Saturday that I was to hear that you too, with Steph, were about to lose your beloved puppy (they are always puppies to me).

Lily’s mind and her eyes were bright last Friday, but her little body was sick, it was too much for her. An old man and an old woman and an old dog went into the animal hospital, but only the old man and old woman got back into the car. I had expected to bring her home after her examination, I did not anticipate driving home through a veil of tears.

While I have been reliving those final minutes and moments, they are too much to write about at present, but I do want to tell you that she gave me lots of kisses – which was especially special, for while she always gave Vickie kisses, she seldom kissed me.

The other thing I know I want to say is that we needed to be there for her and with her as she left us. Lily trusted us with her life and she trusted us with her death – and is this not sacred?

As we were saying goodbye to Lily, I said to Dr. Kevin, “I’m glad you are the one.” He replied, “I’m glad too.” For you see, Kevin cared about Lily, she mattered to him, he is a gentle soul. I would not have wanted a stranger to do what Kevin was doing.

This was the same with my Dad’s funeral. I led his funeral because I did not want a stranger to do it, and I certainly didn’t want someone who didn’t know Jesus to do it. (While we have never talked about it, certainly it was sacred for you and Steph to have your sister June with you during her final season of life – this is the way it once was, we were with one another until our parting, we did not isolate one another nor warehouse one another.)

So my dear friend, what I am saying is that you did not betray your dear Buddy anymore than our heavenly Father betrays us when we lay this body down – or even when it is taken from us through violence. Yes, death is a hideous reality laden with grief – and who can plumb the depths of grief? But death is also abolished, it has been destroyed in and through Jesus Christ – and therefore it is a short-term reality, an intrusion into our pilgrimage (as painful as it is).

I run to 2 Timothy 1:10, “…[He] abolished death and brought life and immortality to light through the Gospel.”

I shelter in Hebrews 2:15 - 16, “…and might free those who through fear of death were subject to slavery all their lives, for assuredly He does not give help to angels, but He gives help to the seed of Abraham.”

And I shout through my grief, “O death, where is your victory? O death, where is your sting?” (1 Corinthians 15:55).

I’ve been singing “Because He Lives” and including words about puppies in it, I’ve been including Lily…just as you can include Buddy.

We know that just as Creation has suffered in our slavery and sin, that it will also participate in our redemption and restoration:

“For the anxious longing of the creation waits eagerly for the revealing of the sons of God. For the creation was subjected to futility, not willingly, but because of Him who subjected it in hope, that the creation itself also will be set free from its slavery to corruption into the freedom of the glory of the children of God. For we know that the whole creation groans and suffers the pains of childbirth together until now.” (Romans 8:19 – 22).

If I take Paul’s words at face value, then Creation knows more than we think it does, and it knows more about us than we know about ourselves – for it is eagerly awaiting our revealing in Christ, while we still tend to think of ourselves as either paupers or we act as arrogant fools.

One of the things about dogs is that they are innocent and we are not, and that makes it pretty hard at times to live with them and terrible when we lose them. I say that it is hard at times to live with them because their self-giving and innocence reveals my selfishness and sin – Ha! They do a better job at convicting me of sin than any preacher ever did.

I love the final pages of The Last Battle by C. S. Lewis, for it shows us reunited with those we love, including souls in Creation.

One week ago today, at about 2:00 P.M., we lost our Lily…O how my heart beats with the expectation that we will see one another again. I fully expect to be greeted by our puppies and that we will all frolic in the New Jerusalem…others may call me a fool…but let it be said that I am a fool who places all of his hope in Christ…all of it.

 

Your friend… in grief as in joy…

 

Bob

Lina and Darby

It’s hard to imagine a closer pair of dogs than Lina and Darby. Darby was our shepherd-Lab mix that went to Narnia a little over ten years ago. While Lina and Lily had their own special relationship, Lina and Darby were something else – most always together, and when together often touching.

First it was Chris Ann (Cocker Spaniel) by herself; then Mitzi (likely a border collie mix, about six months old) was rescued from the streets of Richmond by Vickie – so then it was Chris and Mitz. Then Darby was part of a litter rescued by a co-worker of Vickie’s; so then it was Chris, Mitzi, and Darby. Then Chris went to Narnia – and Darby really missed her, looked all over for her. Chris was the older dog and Darby was the puppy.

Years later Mitzi went to Narnia and then it was just Darby. Frankly Darby didn’t appear to miss Mitzi very much; Mitz could be temperamental, but I chalk that up to her troubled puppyhood on the streets of Richmond. Mitz and Darby were with us when we moved to the Boston area, then to the Berkshires, and then back to Chesterfield. They could be buddies and have fun, and they were great at chasing squirrels…but I admit that Mitz could be grouchy at times…a nip here, a nip there…the fruit of a troubled existence on city streets no doubt.

Darby was by herself for a couple of years, I had a tough time getting over the loss of Mitzi…she was my puppy. She didn’t have much use for women, but she liked men; she really liked Vickie’s Dad; in her old age she came to tolerate Vickie, maybe even appreciate her at times.

When we first brought Lina home we let her down on the grass in our fenced backyard, then we let Darby out on the deck to see her new sister – oh my! Darby took one look at Lina and let out a bark that was probably picked up on a seismograph out in Colorado. Poor Lina ran into a corner of the wooden fence with her face toward the fence; “If I can’t see that big thing then maybe that big thing can’t see me.”

Not a good start to a relationship.

Her First Bark

Lina was a quiet puppy, in fact, she didn’t bark for about six months. Then one evening we were in our family room, Lina lay on the hearth rug in front of the fireplace…all was quiet and then Lina barked – she startled us and she startled herself, she was quite surprised. She looked around as if to say, “What was that?”

A sweet memory.

Holding and Carrying Lina

How long ago was it that she tore her first ACL (more properly her cruciate)? Four years? Three years? Then a year or so later she tore her second one. Both in her back legs, both partial tares.

Lina had a pretty good recovery from the first tare, but the second one was pronounced and from that point we had to really limit her activity. Not that she couldn’t go on yard patrol, but it was better for her not to go on yard patrol in early afternoon when the “mail Lady” delivered mail, for the mail Lady is very much a dog person and she comes bearing treats and kind words for puppies – no puppy can walk to the mail Lady, for the mail Lady deserves a run and happy barks.

The second tare was pretty bad, and after agonizing over surgery we opted for laser treatments and acupuncture and were quite pleased and thankful for the results.

Up until the second tare, which happened when Lina was going down the stairs from our first floor to the basement to be with Vickie, Lina could go up and down stairs, but from that point on I carried her. (We also had a ramp built from our deck to the yard).

This meant that every morning and every night I carried her down and up the stairs to and from the second floor which is where Lily and Lina slept on their dog beds in our room. It also meant that if the ramp was icy that I carried Lina down and up our front porch steps; or if we had a tornado warning I carried her down into the basement and back up. Because Lina was a “long dog” (a Basset and Beagle mix – favoring the Basset side of her lineage) and also a chunky monkey, she was a bit unwieldy to carry – making it a challenge for Vickie to do the porch and impossible for her to carry Lina from floor to floor.

I never got tired of carrying Lina, I never wearied of holding her. When Lina was a puppy and we picked her up from friends in Louisa county to bring her home, Vickie drove the car and I held Lina on my lap.

When it was time for Lina’s last car ride, I carried her to the car and placed her on her bed in the back of our SUV. I carried her into the vet’s office and held her on my lap in the waiting room. I carried her into the examining room and got down on the floor with her. When the vet’s assistant asked me if I wanted a chair I said, “No”.

I needed to be on the floor with her, holding her as best I could…along with Vickie…until….

I miss holding her close to me…

Her Collar

Our dog’s collars have been part of their identity. This goes beyond a dog license or a medallion indicating rabies vaccination; it is the one piece of attire that they weren’t born with, the item that is bestowed upon them by their human parents, their Mom and Dad.

          When we remove collars to replace a dog license or vaccination tag there is a look of anxiety, a sense of the uncomfortable that does not abate until the collar is once again where it belongs, on our beloved pet.

          “We need to remember to bring her collar with us when we leave,” I said to Vickie as we sat in the waiting room. I thought it best to verbalize this important matter, lest when overwhelmed with emotion we forget – though I don’t know how we would forget such a thing.

          We would not remove her collar until she was gone, until she had breathed her last, until her precious heart ceased beating. We wanted her to know that she was ours until that last breath, that she was loved, that she will always be loved.

          A last kiss. Another “We love you.” A last stroke of her head.

          I gently removed her collar.

Lina

I open my eyes, it is still dark. My heart aches. I have to get up, it is Sunday and they expect me at church. If I don’t show up they’ll notice I’m not there – after all, I’m the pastor.

I don’t want to descend the stairs from our bedroom to the first floor; I know how empty it will be. Lily and Lina have been sleeping downstairs for quite a while now, rather than in the bedroom with us. Last night, for the first time in months, Lily slept on her foam bed in the bedroom.

The first floor is quiet, still, not a sound. No tail thumping the floor in anticipation of seeing “Daddy”.

I can’t help it, I expect to see her; knowing she isn’t there I still expect to see her.

What is this mystery that binds a man or a woman to a pet, and a pet to a woman or a man? What is this mystery that gives us so much joy and companionship, and so much sorrow?

Emptiness; the hallway is empty, the living room is empty, the family room where she would normally be in the morning is empty. Empty but not empty for I still see her, I feel her, I think I hear her – there she is at her water bowl in the kitchen, there is that tail wagging as she looks up to me.

Lina and Her Tree

You may recall that last year our basset-mix Lina developed an affection for one of our Christmas trees. Well, the tree is back and so is Lina (photo below).

It’s hard to see puppies grow old, you know it’s going to happen and you enjoy the time you have with them, but you know what’s ahead and they don’t. Lina will be 14, the Lord willing, in April. We have been blessed to have dogs who live long, and we always grieve with others who lose their pets before their life expectancies.

Not too long ago we visited friends and asked, “Where is Betsy?” Betsy was a sweet yellow Lab around four years old. They told us that Betsy died of cancer. As I heard the words I could imagine the pain of our friends; the tears, the sorrow, the hurt.

Lina can’t see well anymore; her cataracts have gotten worse. Thankfully she can still hear well and we talk to her a lot so she’ll know where we are. When we had Mitzi years ago, her eyesight held up in her senior years but her hearing didn’t so we learned to speak loud and make a little noise when we entered a room she was in so we wouldn’t startle her if her head was turned away from us.

Lily turns ten in a couple of weeks. When we got Lily, Lina was almost four. Lina thought Lily an intrusion – we had recently lost Darby and it was obvious that Lina missed her, every morning she checked out the place where Darby had slept. Darby and Lina were always together, and often they were touching. While Lina and Lily are often together, they aren’t as inseparable as Lina and Darby were.

Well, in a world of insanity it’s nice and comforting to have puppies (they are always puppies to us).

Who knows, when we get to Narnia we may recognize that our relationship with puppies was one of the great miracles of life here in the Shadowlands – or we may realize it now.

Lina and the Tree

Dogs are curious creatures, they have their ways about them. This past Christmas season Lina formed an attachment to one of our Christmas trees - the Crystal Tree. In the evening, after dinner, she would go into the living room and lie down by the tree. She's been around this tree for years but had never shown any particular interest in it until this year.

"I really like this tree."

"I really really like this tree.."

"What happened to my tree? The top is gone!"

"Where is my tree? I miss it."

"This is NOT the same...I'm depressed."

More on a Tale of Tails

After Mitzi went to Narnia it was quite some time before we considered another dog – so for a couple of years it was just Darby, which I think was probably fine with Darby because as long as Darby had Vickie Darby was fine. Besides, as previously mentioned, The Mitz could be temperamental and snarl and bite at Darby – maybe Mitz suffered from PTS due to her childhood experiences running the streets of Richmond. In any case, Darby was fine, we were fine, and I grieved over the loss of Mitzi – Mitzi was my dog, Darby was Vickie’s dog…though as I pointed out over the course of her life, Darby was my dog too/two.

A coworker’s basset hound had a litter of pups, she insisted that the father was a border collie, but we’ve seen no evidence of that with Lina, next in our line of puppies – our guess is that the father is a beagle – we don’t discuss this around Lina, no reason to bring up questions of such a nature.

Lina has a black tail with a white tip, and when she’s chasing something the tip is in the air and she is moving like a rocket sled, but when she isn’t chasing something or running to see us when we return home she is s-l-o-w….v-e-r-y  s-l-o-w. When she is unleashing her energy she is amazingly fast, but otherwise she seems to operate on the assumption that if there is no reason to be in a hurry why bother with being in a hurry. He tail is long and thin and when she sleeps she can curl it up so that is touches her nose. When she was a puppy a neighbor looked at Lina and said, “She sure is long, but it looks like she has all her parts.”

Just before we adopted her we had read George MacDonald’s The Princess and Curdie. Curdie had a faithful dog-like companion named Lina – so that’s where Lina’s name came from and she has lived up to her name. There is nothing quite like having a dog as a friend.

Darby’s Tail

Chris Ann had a bobbed tail that was like a metronome on high speed, Mitzi had a foofy tail, the tip of which, when her tail was curled, would touch her back as she pranced; Darby, our tan shepherd – lab mix, had a long tail that was mainly straight, but with just a little bend upward when she walked or ran.

You may recall that shortly after moving to Richmond that Vickie and I discussed getting another dog and that we decided against it; and that within weeks I arrived home on a Friday to find Mitzi keeping Vickie and Chris Ann company. For the next three years it was Bob, Vickie, Christy, and Mitzi; and while Mitz could be temperamental, by and large the four of us got along pretty well. Then one day I arrived home, walked through the kitchen and into the dining room, and there was Vickie with a puppy.

A coworker had found a litter of puppies in the woods around her home, brought them into work in a box, and one of them somehow picked Vickie as her new mom. By this time of life and marriage I was smart enough to know that I had no say in the matter of yet another dog.

A couple of nights after the puppy’s arrival we were out to dinner (that is Vickie and I were out to dinner, not the puppy and I, not the puppy and Vickie and I…just Vickie and I) and were discussing what name to give the puppy. We asked the waitress what she thought and she said she’d give it some thought. Later that evening she told us that the matter had been put to the staff in the kitchen and that Darby was the name they agreed on – since Darby seemed like a fine name to us, Darby it would be.

Darby, with her straight tail, would be Momma’s dog unlike any dog we’ve had – she loved Vickie; oh she loved me too, but she loved Vickie. Wherever Vickie went Darby went, from a puppy to an old girl. Darby is kind of a link in our dog family – Darby knew Chris Ann and she knew Mitzi, and she also knew Lina (our basset mix); now we have Lina and Lily – so Darby is the link in the chain of dogs. Darby could pass on to Lina what she knew of Chris and Mitz, and Lina could pass on to Lily what she knew of Darby and what Darby told her about Mitz and Chris. If you are not a dog person this will make so sense – but try to enjoy the ride.

There is another thing about Darby, not to be discussed here in detail, maybe another time, but for the record I’ll state it: Darby was with us during some great times and low times – she traveled with us from Richmond to the Boston area and then to Western Mass and then back to Richmond; then to the Shenandoah Valley that turned out to be a valley of the shadow of death. Darby died shortly before we moved back to Richmond – I think she had done all she could for us and that the old girl just couldn’t do anymore. My how we loved her! We’ve loved them all, we love the two we have now – they are all special – but if a dog can have an old soul then Darby had one.

As I said, Darby was Vickie’s dog, she was Momma’s dog – as long as she could see Vickie she was content – it’s good to be loved by a dog.

The Mitz’s Tail

While Chris Ann had a bobbed tail, Mitzi had a foofy tail. As far as we could tell Mitzi was a Border Collie mix; she certainly had the temperament of a Border Collie – she was in charge. When Mitz was on yard patrol (walking around the perimeter of her yard) her fluffy tail would curl to the point of the tip touching her back. Inside the house sometimes you’d see a curled tail appear in the back of the sofa, moving from one end to the other until a dog made its appearance.  

“The Mitz” was a temperamental dog, while she could play with Chris Ann and Darby (at one time we had three dogs), she could also unexpectedly be mean to them; thankfully she had more good days than bad days and it was fun to watch her play with her dog sisters. I think it must have been her uncertain early childhood that caused her antisocial behavior – maybe we should have taken her to a therapist.

We had just moved to Richmond with Chris Ann, had talked about getting another dog and had decided against it, when I came home one Friday to find Chris Ann, Vickie, and a new dog. Vickie was working in downtown Richmond when the police came into her office with a dog who they had caught running the streets; they asked if they could confine the dog in the office until animal control arrived. Vickie, no doubt considering our recent discussion about getting another dog, and remembering that we had decided not to get one, thought it best to bring the dog home so we could reconsider our decision.

The challenge was that Vickie took a commuter bus to work and she could not take the dog on the bus to the commuter parking lot. Her coworkers located an unsuspecting soul in another department who lived close to the commuter parking lot and convinced him to give a strange woman and a stranger (and very dirty) dog a ride. Animal control was informed they were no longer needed.

When I was confronted with this new dog, recalling our recent conversation about not getting another dog, I said that she had to go. One dog was enough responsibility, two was one too many. As it happened it snowed on Monday so we couldn’t take the dog to the animal shelter and by Tuesday it was too late to disengage my heart (Vickie’s was already engaged) and we named her Mitzi – otherwise known as Mitz – or as we saw her character develop – “The Mitz”. As I write this it occurs to me that Vickie probably already knew that by Monday I wouldn’t be able to take the new dog to the dog pound – I think she may have been humoring me with her ready acquiescence to my plan to just keep the dog for the weekend.

Oh what a foofy fluffy curly tail The Mitz had.

Dog Nose – Part 4

A body with a dog nose in the front has a tail on the back. When Chris Ann, a Cocker Spaniel, was with us, even though she had a bobbed tail she wagged it as best she could – of course Chris Ann wagged the entire back-half of her body, she could get so excited that she’d pee. A rule for living with Chris Ann is that when we arrived home that we’d open the door and let her run outside to greet us, otherwise in her excitement she might have an accident inside the house. I guess that’s what happens when your whole back half is moving at the speed of a centrifuge.

Writing this conjures up the image of taking Christy to visit friends who had just moved into a brand new house with, naturally, brand new carpet. Vickie, Christy and I walked into the great room and were talking (that is Vickie and I were talking) with our friends when three or four of our friends’ cats came to inspect Christy, while Christy didn’t pee, a few round objects rolled out of her behind. Needless to say Chris wasn’t wagging her tail – it was frozen in cat alert. Vickie was embarrassed by the incident, but Chris didn’t even seem to be aware that she was rolling out housewarming gifts and I thought it was amusing. I’m sure the cats thought, “Doesn’t she know how to use the litter box?”

Dog Nose – Part 3

The nose, the eyes, the smile. Of course dogs smile.

Dogs who are secure in the love of their family (pack) smile, just watch them while they are asleep, watch them as they watch you. You may say that it’s just anthropomorphic nonsense – really?

The relationship of man to dog has many possibilities – on the lowest end it is one of crass exploitation akin to the gladiatorial games – when the heart and mind and soul of man are debased to the point that man takes evil pleasure in the abuse of dogs. On the higher end there is the mysterious loving relationship of man and symbiotic friend.

Paul indicates that creation is not as it should be, but that when mankind entered a state of corruption that creation shared in that condition, this is why creation’s release from the “slavery to corruption” is linked to the freedom of the glory of the children of God (Romans 8:20ff). Yahweh, through the prophet Isaiah, promises that the “wolf and the lamb will graze together (Isaiah 65:25); things are not what they should be but a day will come when they will be what they are meant to be.

Suppose that just as debased man can cruelly bring creation down to torment that redeemed man can experience some measure of bringing creation up from corruption? Those men and women who respond in some measure to the image of God within them are more likely to care for creation (whether they recognize it as creation or as an evolutionary process), and those who are experiencing redemption have the opportunity (seldom taken) to carry that care to a higher level by recognizing that there is a Divine mandate and stewardship given to them in their care and relationship to creation.

Do dogs smile? There are those who think they don’t and then there are those who know they do. Those who know they do have the joy of knowing that smile, just as they have the joy of looking into the dog’s eyes…and just as they know the joy of being touched by a dog’s wonderful wet nose. 

Dog Nose Part 2

Of course along with dog nose comes dog eyes - there is something about those eyes. The eyes of our dogs are trusting eyes, they don't know fear. Oh there was the time Lily was scared by a fox and slammed into the front door; when Vickie opened it Lily ran and hid under our bed for a few hours.

 

There was also the time, when Lily was a puppy, when a huge Air Force transport came over our home at what seemed rooftop height and Lily, who was on a lead, tried to pull me into the house. But as a way of life our dogs Lina and Lily don't know fear. The same was true of Chris Ann, and Mitzi, and Darby when they were with us.

 

It hurts when I see dogs with eyes of fear and uncertainty; dogs that have been abandoned or abused, eyes that once trusted, that likely trusted too much; eyes that may want to trust again, but they are afraid.

 

This is part of the great betrayal - man betrays dog. We domesticated them, we brought them in, we used them for our own ends, and then we betrayed them. They give so much and we give so little.

 

Dogs know us, they anticipate us, they are tuned into us...because they watch us. Our movements, our facial expressions - their eyes take it all in. And when those eyes connect with us there is a bond for those who are blessed and gifted to receive it, to be a part of it, to participate in it. A wet nose, searching attentive eyes; a companion there for us...a dog.

The Comfort of Dog Nose

The other day I was taking a nap when I awoke to dog nose on my hand…wet dog nose. I opened my eyes and it was Lily; apparently I had slept long enough.

It is true, when I awake from naps I tend to be cranky and crabby – just ask Vickie. But there is something about the love emanating from wet dog nose that is comforting, and rather than crank or crab I simply accept the fact that the dog behind the nose loves me and wants companionship. Awaking to wet dog nose is preferable to an alarm clock, or for that matter preferable to anything I can think of at present. 

Snow – Walks With A Dog

Snow evokes a number of images and memories, from childhood to seasons of adulthood. From days off from school when kids in the neighborhood reveled in exhaustion and excitement sledding down streets and hills; to the time Vickie and I took a seldom – used back road home in a snow storm and weren’t sure we’d make it up a particularly challenging hill; to the time the snow in Becket, MA came in November and didn’t leave till April…or was it early May?

My most pleasant snow memory is walking in the woods with Darby, our Sheppard – Lab mix, in the deep snows of Western Massachusetts in the Berkshires. I’d buckle my snow shoes on and Darby and I would walk beyond the cleared portion of our lot into the surrounding woods, deeper we’d go, the snow often above her shoulders, deeper into the quiet, into the hush of creation. The stillness of the woods after a deep snow enfolds and comforts the senses, it is a blanket of peace wrapping itself around you, drawing you into it, stilling the mind, quieting the heart – it is a place to listen, to listen to both creation and the Creator, a place for a child to commune with the Father.

Darby stayed close to me during these walks, not by my heels, but just off to the right or left or just a bit ahead of me; when I’d call her she’d quickly come, bounding over fallen branches and limbs; I always knew where she was and she always knew where I was and we always knew which way was home.

 A ways into the woods behind our home was a stone wall, the kind of stone wall you see all over New England. The wall had been lonely for many years for it was now surrounded by woods, at one time perhaps it delineated a pasture or crop land, people built it as they cleared the land, but the land was no longer clear and the wall was lonely. For the most part the wall was still intact, while here and there a section had fallen, failed sections were few and far between. Darby and I always walked out to the wall and then we’d walk along it for awhile, in no hurry, just Dad and Darby, taking our time, enjoying each other, in the cathedral of God’s snowy creation, a canopy of trees above us reaching up to the heavens.

Those walks wouldn’t have been the same without Darby; she was a gentle soul, devoted to Vickie and knowing that I was part of the package she got with Vickie she was devoted to me, even though I was the second team. She was most certainly Vickie’s dog, if ever a dog loved a human then Darby loved Vickie, wherever Vickie was Darby was there.

When the snow came down in Becket I’d anticipate my walks with Darby, a respite from the world, from the phone, from the internet, from television…from noise.

While the sense of quiet sacredness was palpable during those walks, at the same time there was joyful excitement and exhilaration in reveling in the white-crystal beauty of the snowy carpet and in leaping over fallen trees and then running with Darby as we headed back home.  

I sure miss the old girl; I sure miss those walks. Darby and the snow…what sweet times.

Darby and Lina are below.

Westminster - Lily's Half-sister

As you may recall from a year or two ago, Lily's grandpa won Best of Breed twice. At the recently concluded show a half-sister won Best of Opposite Sex. Her name is Heiress.

Puppies and the Mountain Lion

The puppies have been protecting the birds, squirrels, and chipmunks from local mountain lions.

Better make sure the mountain lion isn't penetrating the perimeter.

I suppose you'd like to see a mountain lion?

C. S. Lewis and Whiskers

On March 21, 1955, in a letter to Mary Willis C.S. Lewis writes:

We were talking about Cats and Dogs the other day & decided that both have consciences but the dog, being an honest, humble person, always has a bad one, but the Cat is a Pharisee and always has a good one. When he sits and stares you out of countenance he is thanking God that he is not as these dogs, or these humans, or even as these other Cats!

Lewis may have something here. Humble cats are hard to find. Humble cats are, I think, hardier to find than haughty dogs.

We once had neighbors, two doors down, who had cats and dogs. Their large black cat, Whiskers, was the neighborhood bully. When our neighbors went on vacation we watched their pets and when we went on vacation they watched our pets.

One summer they went to the beach leaving their pets, including Whiskers, in our care. As the week progressed Vickie remarked that she had not seen Whiskers. As the week drew to a close and the day came for our neighbors’ return we had still not seen Whiskers; in spite of calling his name within and without the house. This was unusual for he not only patrolled his neighborhood on a regular basis, reminding other cats, dogs, and humans that they lived in the area solely by his sufferance; but he also used “home” has a source of food and water. What had become of Whiskers? Had he met his match? Was he road kill? Had he hijacked a truck of Nine Lives cat food, been caught, tried, and was he now in prison?

It turns out that as our neighbors were getting ready to pull out of the driveway on vacation that one of their sons realized he had left something in his bedroom. Whiskers, who was in the house at the time, followed him into the bedroom without being noticed; when the son left the bedroom he shut the door…he shut the door on Whiskers. It was a second-floor bedroom, it was summer, and the air conditioning was turned off. It was hot, it got hotter, and there was no water.

Now at this point I could write to be continued…but that is a cheap trick so I’ll tell you what happened – he lived! I can’t testify whether he used more than one life that week, but he did indeed live, dropping a number of pounds. Of course Whiskers tried to get out of the bedroom – oh my did he try. He destroyed the carpet by the door. He destroyed the trim around the window. It’s a wonder he didn’t claw his way through the drywall – but he did live.

It was weeks before we saw Whiskers again. Whether he held it against Vickie for not finding him we’ll never know, but he seldom came down to our house after that experience; of course our dogs didn’t mind his absence, but I have to admit I kind of missed the old boy.