Victoria Advocate, A Different Perspective
Dogs are the best. We always owned a dog or two when I was growing up. When I married, the tradition carried over. We had one dog that belonged to my parents for a while, then they gave him to my son. When my son moved out, the black and white terrier became my dog. Willie could be nosing around at the farthest corner of our property, but when he heard my recliner kick back, he hightailed it home to jump in my lap.
Our daughter and her dog lived with us when she attended nursing school, but she got married and took her dog with her. I missed my other walking buddy. In fact, I had been so busy for so long helping to plan two weddings I slid into a depression. So, Christmas 2011, the kids and Dave gifted me with a miniature silver dapple dachshund. I named him Ike, after Isaac in the Bible story. Abraham and Sarah had Isaac late in life—so much later, the Bible says Abraham’s body was as good as dead. And when Sarah heard she would be pregnant, she laughed. (Genesis 18:12)
Once I had Ike to care for, the depression faded. Somehow, that tiny creature imbued me with living hope that everything would be all right. To this day, my remedy for depression is plenty of sunshine and a new puppy. My husband and I still laugh at his antics, whether he’s performing the GI Joe crawl for attention or acting obnoxious about going for a walk. We’ve learned to communicate with each other about when the dog eats because he thinks it’s mealtime whenever someone is in the kitchen.
He’s going on eleven years old now. When we go for walks, he’s still my social butterfly who wants everyone to acknowledge his presence and pet him. Around other dogs, however, he’s timid, having had a couple of encounters with bigger dogs that didn’t go so well.
Ike’s a great companion, but as much as I love him, he’s not enough. In every way that matters, I need a more profound hope than what my furry friend provides. The old cliché that says a dog is man’s best friend only goes so far.
Years ago, when I was attempting to house train him, I would tell my husband, “If I could only speak dog, then he might understand what needs to happen.” In spite of a strong stubborn streak, he eventually got the message, but not before plenty of mishaps.
Likewise, we don’t come into the world knowing who God is, our role, or what life is all about. But God knows, so He left heaven to show us the answers to these crucial questions. Jesus Christ was and is God in the flesh. Scripture says, “And He (Jesus) is the radiance of His glory and the exact representation of His nature ….” (Hebrews 1:3) It’s impossible to understand why we were created unless we’re acquainted with the God of the Bible. Once we make the choice to believe God, life makes more sense.
Dogs are awesome. We adore our little canine friend so much we’ve already talked about getting him a companion—a younger female to liven his last days. That way, he’s still the boss, but our sorrow will be lessened when he’s gone.
More importantly, I know where I’m going when it’s time for me to leave. I’ll get to be with my Savior, the one who loves me with everlasting love. “Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ. According to his great mercy, he has caused us to be born again to a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead.” (I Peter 1:3)