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Chapter One Deliver me from the sword,
If you are not planning to get a dog, do not under any circumstances, go looking at puppies! There. You have been warned. One day on an outing with my husband, I ventured into a music store, and the owner happened to have his little dog there that day—a honey-colored, bouncy little fluff ball named Otis. Otis greeted me standing on his hind legs holding his paws up. Still standing erect, he danced around gleefully as he excitedly worked his paws up and down inviting me to play. This was my introduction to the sweet, unpredictable, loving, playful, joyful, incredible breed called Shih Tzu. (Unfortunate nomenclature, which must be pronounced carefully! It’s “sheets-zu, Not . . . well, not what you might have been thinking.) Captivated by this little Shih Tzu, I often thought and talked of him for weeks afterwards. Still infatuated with Otis, I happened to look in the classifieds one day and saw an ad for Shih Tzu puppies. (First mistake!) Why I was looking in the “pets” section of the classifieds is fodder for further psychological analysis. I wasn’t looking for a dog. . . I didn’t want a dog. . . yet, the paper was open to “pets”. . . and I didn’t look through the “cats” section. I went straight to “dogs”! The ad gave a phone number to call in order to see the puppies. “What harm can it do to look?” I thought. Otis, a full-grown Shih Tzu, had been adorable. Just imagine how sweet a Shih Tzu puppy must be! Intending only to look at the puppies, I dialed the number and feigned interest in purchasing one. I also had an ulterior motive. At the time, my husband Jim and I were marketing a wonderful stress alleviating formula which had been found to be particularly helpful to both humans and animals in competitions such as athletic events, talent shows or (you got it) pet shows! My plan was to look at the puppies and talk to the breeder about our product for herself and her dogs. Thus, I could see some cute puppies and make a business call at the same time. I drove past the house but didn’t stop. I felt like a criminal—deceiving this unsuspecting woman about my real motives. So I passed on by the house, having made up my mind not to stop just as it came into view. But she was out in the front yard with the puppies—and they were darling! I turned around, went back and stopped. (Second mistake!)
The puppies were delightful. They bounded around the yard hardly any taller than the grass they were in. I spotted a particularly charming one. He was brown and white, with an enchanting little face, and soft, soulful eyes. I picked him up. (Third mistake!) He nestled his little face against my neck and he sighed—a deep, longing puppy sigh. I was hooked! I called my husband—who (wisely) had not been in favor of my going on this venture. “I think I have to get this puppy,” I said, the little creature still nestled against my neck. Jim’s response was less than enthusiastic. “You know how much trouble he would be and how frequently we travel,” he pointed out with typical male pragmatism. “I know, but he’s just so sweet. I don’t think I can leave him here,” I lamented. “Well, it’s up to you,” he said in a resigned tone that conveyed, “I know you want to do this. So I might as well go along with you.” I was somewhat surprised that Jim gave in so readily. We had both been resolute about “no pets” ever since our previous dog, Charlie, had died several years earlier. Perhaps Jim relented in light of my fragile emotional state during the past year following the deaths of both my mother and stepfather. Maybe he thought that a new puppy would help fill the hole in my aching heart. Since the puppy was too young to leave his mother, I put a deposit on him and left. I had to wait two agonizing weeks before I could go back and get him. I say “agonizing” because I had noticed that the woman’s toddler son was not particularly gentle with the puppies, and I imagined my little guy suffering at the hands of this child for the entire two weeks. Plus, she kept the puppies in a cage in the garage, and I felt sorry for them in such a “cruel” environment. Please realize that this was a private breeder and the pups’ confines in her home were leagues ahead of a “puppy mill.” These dogs were actually in a palace by comparison, but still I fretted over my little fellow. At last, the day came when I could pick him up. He was dirty and smelled of urine and feces from being caged with his siblings. Nevertheless, because he was frightened, I held him close on the ride home, ignoring the stench. I continued to hold him close even though his fright caused him to wet himself—and me! My introduction to “unconditional love” for this tiny beast. As soon as we arrived home, the first order of the day was to change my wet clothes and give him a bath! Looking back on that moment, I can see that from the beginning my relationship with this little creature has, in some small ways, mirrored my Heavenly Father’s care of me. I chose the puppy, I brought him unto myself—even though he reeked—and then I cleaned him up. He was dirty and smelly, and I washed him clean. My Heavenly Father chose me out of the cage of sin that enslaved me, and I came to Him all dirty from sin and with the odors and cares of this world all over me. He gently took me, held me close—in spite of the stench—and then carefully washed me clean. Obviously, not everything about having a dog is analogous to how God the Father relates to His children, but in raising my dog, I have come to recognize many similarities that have helped me see more clearly just how unconditional the Father’s love is. And, just as I had bought Bandit, He bought me at a price—the life of His only Son. As I have endeavored to raise this little guy—whom we call “Bandit”—I have continued to see some comparisons between my unconditional love for him and the Father’s unlimited, unwavering love for me. Bandit, as it turns out, is definitely not an “Otis.” Bandit is a very “alpha” male with a mind and strong will of his own—which he demonstrated from the get-go—when, the fourth night he spent with us, he bit me on the face! Suffice it to say that Bandit has been a challenge and a joy all at the same time. Now, more than four years from the day I first fell in love with him, he sits at my feet as I write this. He has just gotten up from his night’s rest and wandered into my office
and is waiting for his breakfast. He looks at me from time to time with expectant eyes reminding me that he hasn’t been fed yet today. Still, he has no doubt that I will soon feed him. He is not concerned at all about receiving his “daily
bread” from this person who loves him—flaws and all.
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Copyright © 2007 by Fran A. Wood |
