I know somewhere under here that life exits! I can feel it moving, I can hear it breathing, and can smell its breath, I just can’t see its face! Whoops! That was its tongue, (I hope) that just assailed my chin. It had to be a tongue; although I couldn’t locate any labels I was pretty sure I was holding it right side up! Oh the heck with it, down it goes! I placed the mass of brown, white and black fur on the patio and off it went into the melee, not the least bit intimidated by the size or ferocity of the other dogs. It intended to be a player not an observer in the fun. It may have looked like the black lab was in the lead being followed by the smaller white Shih Tzu but in reality it was being herded by the smaller canine who was being chased by the even smaller… dog I think, not being sure because it was cleverly camouflaged with fur, lots of fur.
Whenever I let Tasha, the lab, out to do her thing (can you guess what that means?), Tessie, the Shih Tzu, feels it’s her duty to dissuade Tasha from lingering about and having any free time away from her. You’d think Tasha having 35 extra pounds than Tessie would be in charge but no, there’s a reason it’s called a Napoleon (in this case Napoleona) complex, and Tessie holds a certificate in it. There they go, around the above ground pool with Tasha in the lead, Tessie close on her heels and Mikki, the newest addition, scuttling along without a clue to the objective but full of exuberance. Oops, Tasha was cornered by the back fence; no, she spun around, sailed elegantly over Tessie and changed course. Mikki halted, confused, but not for long, he had to take crucial action to avoid being trampled by the oncoming duo. He side stepped to safety; no, the wind from the racers blew him to the side since he only weighed four plus pounds! I’m not sure the older dogs even noticed that there was a third participant in the game, though Tessie considered it serious business, keeping Tasha in line and aware of whom the boss was.
Mikki, head held high, (once again, I was only guessing that was the head, he could have been running backwards!) took off behind the group, nibbling at tails, ankles, ears, or whatever. He had no idea what was going on but he was determined to let the two senior dogs know he wouldn’t be ignored; even though he was being ignored. Ignored of course until he body slammed Tessie. Wrong move. Oh so wrong! Tessie turned her brutality on Mikki, but only temporarily because Tasha was still her main objective and her main objective had dashed behind an upside down canoe where she taunted Tessie by slapping the bottom of the vessel (which of course was on the top?????)
Tasha was winded with her pink and black tongue hanging down to her navel (obviously that chow that hits every home in America had visited Tasha’s mom), yet she remained on her hind legs supporting herself upright on the canoe while Tessie yapped viciously at her from the opposing side. I would hate to translate what she was barking into English and loose my dubious standing as a lady!
Mikki, who had gone totally submissive during Tessie’s tirade - lying prone on the ground, paws over his head, tail curled around his body when she was attempting to subdue him a few seconds ago-, took advantage of Tessie’s absolute focus on Tasha prancing up to her where he courageously (or very suicidally) took a morsel from Tessie’s rear; not her tail, her rear! He would not be ignored or treated like a baby, after all he was twelve weeks old, that was old enough to leave home and start a new life. He was a man now, on his own, so to speak, exploring a strange new world, seeking out new life, boldly going where no puppy (er.. twelve week old man/dog) has gone before.
Oh, did Tessie change focus! She reinstated her full attention on Mikki! Poor little Mikki, he was a goner now. Mikki took his punishment like a man and bounced back with determination. Mikki had spunk, even if he was a foo-foo dog with a girl's name,( at least he can't read to know his name has the feminine spelling, but as determined as he is i wouldn't be surprised if he did become literate some day!)
Eventually Tessie galloped up the porch and into the back door with Tasha on her heels. Mikki made it to the steps and comically hit the brakes, as though he had smacked into an invisible barrier. I think he had psyched himself up, chanting to himself, "I can do it! I can do it!" but like Peter on the sea he looked at the steps and faltered seeing the improbability of success. I couldn't squeeze a finger between his belly and the ground so his stubby little walking sticks weren't adequate for stair stepping aerobics! He sat down on his furry behind and stared up at me; once again, that's what I assumed he was doing behind the bushy eye brows and facial fluff that had to be concealing the gel filled orbs used for sight.
Head tilted to one side, but held high, he waited me out. I waited him out. I wanted him to give it a try. Just put one little paw on the step, please. Give it a try. Nope. Nothing. He just sat there like dead weight. And just like Jesus reached down and salvaged Peter from sinking down to his demise I reached down and scooped Mikki up and plopped him into the house where Tessie and Tasha greeted him with doggy bites and head butting. They greeted him! They welcomed him into the house! They weren't ignoring him anymore! How quickly dogs assimilate into packs! All Mikki had to do to prove himself was try to keep up.
Somehow this reminded me of my walk with God. How, you ask? Well, since you asked....Reading my Bible I get overwhelmed by trying to follow the big dogs, Moses, Abraham, Joseph, Isaiah, Paul, John ect. They got their names in print. They accomplished things. They are the big dogs in history. God saw them and called them by name. Whenever I compare myself to them I feel close to the ground, barely able to step up to the mountain. Yet I keep plugging along, snipping at their heels, endeavoring to follow them, getting rebuked by them, yes, rebuked by them via my conscience as I read stories of their achievements, yet I vault back (eventually!) They were after all made of the same soil I was, molded from the same chemicals, exposed to the same Spirit who’s no respecter of persons. I chant to myself, "I can do it! I can do it!" But when I can't, I sit and wait. I sit on my jean clad behind and wait on the Lord, and he waits for me and offers me encouragement. He gives me a chance to pull myself up and if I can't cut the mustard that day he scoops me up and places me in His home where I'm greeted by Paul, John, Peter...whoever happens to be around that day. Big dogs that have had their bad moments yet didn't give up. Big dogs who lived boring everyday lives not fully recorded. They weren't always up to the mission and sometimes they had to change directions. They had down days. They had days when they mixed the colors and the whites while doing the laundry, days they forgot to take out the trash, and worst of all, days they left the toilet seat up (at last, something I’m not guilty of!)
Yes, God knows me by name and has it in print also. I am known to him and I can't wait for him to call for me when the roll is called up yonder, where all barriers are broken down and I can join "the pack" with the other big dogs. Where I won't be ignored!
Math 10:22
Acts 10:34
Hebrews 12:1
Revelation 13:8
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