Loving Our Inner Doggy

This is something I wrote about our dog. We had to say goodbye today.


I have heard more than one sermon about how our relationship with Christ should be like a dog's to his master. The way  dogs are completely loyal and unquestioning.  A dog's way of greeting his master with enthusiasm and the desire a dog has to alway be with his master. 

Nice. If you like that sort of thing.

I have loads of respect for the nobility and integrity of dogs, but frankly their goody-two-shoe ways have always annoyed me. If you come to our house Randy will probably show off with our dog, Riley. Randy tells him to sit and stay, then he throws bits of food around the room. Riley will sit there until Randy says, "OK!" Then the dog runs and snarfs up the food  like it was the last food on earth and comes back for more 

Here is what I would say to Riley if it would make a difference: "Get some dignity, it is only scraps of  whole wheat toast. Just go lay down and act like you don't care. Seriously!" 

However, a couple of days ago Riley did something that pretty accurately illustrates my relationship with Christ. We took him to the park for a long walk. Because he is an old and trustworthy dog, we let him off his leash as we took a trail through the woods. Randy and I strolled along with Riley trotting ahead. The waning sun dappled the path before us as the birds sang their evening song. Ahh, perfect evening. Just me, my man, and our faithful dog.

About that time a deer crashes across the path in front of us. Riley gave a quick glance toward us as if to say, "Holy cow! Did you see that! I'm going to go wrestle that thing to the ground and devour it!" (This is the same dog who, as a puppy, chased airplanes.) He took off toward the direction of  his prey.

For a while we could hear him in the woods, smashing the undergrowth as he sniffed frantically around. We called and whistled for him with the assurance that he would come soon. He always does. Time passed and we couldn't hear him any more. I got a little worried. We had seen a baby copperhead earlier. I got more worried. We kept calling and whistling. Nothing.

We left the path and went out to the road, still calling. Even Randy's calls were developing an anxious edge. In time we saw Riley coming down the road. He was not dragging a deer in his jaws so I imagine he was disappointed. He came to us a little sheepishly, knowing he had messed up, but of course I greeted him with hugs and pats which he accepted gratefully.

The sun was setting as we walked toward the car. Riley, who is 12 years old, couldn't keep up and started to limp so I had to carry him most of the way back.He was heavy, stinky and probably covered with ticks but I carried him anyway. 

Riley is an obedient and faithful dog. The worst thing he ever does is sneak up on the couch when we aren't home and then he feels bad about it. One day something big and amazing came across his path and he couldn't resist. He took off into danger toward something he had no chance of obtaining. 

Thanks, dog, for being just like me.