So I’ll Bet You’re Glad to Have a Break..

I was worried about making the shift from full time asphalt warrior student to being home for the next three weeks. I had visions of relaxing and puttering in the yard and garden. My family has visions of all the things I am to do before I start CPE. I bravely contemplated polishing off the endorsement essay while I am still feeling academic.

So here is how has really started. Buddy the Beagle started throwing up grass on Wednesday night. Thursday morning as I was leaving for my last spring term class and picnic, he was still not doing well. I put the dog and the water bowl in the crate. I came home and he was disoriented. I carried him upstairs and went to look for the leash to take him out, when from the living room I hear violent wretching sounds. Exhibit A was now on the living room rug, in all its putrescence. But what was it? As I set about using paper towels and plastic bags, I read "JOE BOXER." Buddy, ever on the prowl for any snack, had eaten a pair of underwear and some pencil shavings and who knows what else. So I thought he would feel relieved, if tired. He would drink some water and feel a little better. Such was not the case, in fact the opposite was true. So I called the animal hospital and off my husband went with the beagle while I did the laundry of the Band shirt needed for Friday's performance by LC #2.

It, whatever it was, was some obstruction, involving X-rays and a stay at the vet hospital. On Friday we waited all morning for the call. Finally we needed to leave to go to LTSG for the eucharist service where I was in the choir. Just before the Great Thanksgiving, the call came that Buddy was doing better but needed to get his functions back in working order. He needed to stay until Saturday and we would hear more then. Surgery, once a real option, was now less likely.

In the midst of Saturday was a guitar lesson, and a homework project needing poster board. And I needed to get the garden plants in before the rain. Then we learned, there was an orchestra concert that night. No one even told us they had joined the orchestra. So one parent went to the concert. And one parent picked up the Beagle.

Sunday was dinner with my mother-in-law and two teenagers who swore there was nothing on the menu they would eat. There was and they did. Then a long conversation with my parents in FLA where I got the full medical update on all of their friends. And a request to go shopping for a dress for the dance, followed by a "never mind I have a performance in DC for Jazz Band- but Mom I need to be at the school at 5:45 am and I need white sneakers."

And there was a dentist appointment today, and the grocery store and the produce stand, and then I looked at the house and wondered when the last time I REALLY cleaned was. And "Mom when you take me to flute can you get me highlighting stuff for my hair?" "Did you remember you wanted to order the stuff for my 16^th birthday party before you start at the hospital?"

The dog needs medicated dog food, Metamucil and his antibiotic three times a day, and he must be monitored in the yard. And it is time to set up the screened in porch for the summer. My Beloved thinks I should fix the garden fence and mulch the beds, and…

It is wonderful to be home. Really home, not the superficial, just here to do school work and sleep thing. And I can do morning prayer in the Florida room and see my purple house finches, and goldfinches and the flicker. And I might get that essay done. I think of all of those who are missing their loved ones, or whose homes have been torn asunder by natural disaster or conflict. There is so much to thank God for, including the restored health of an incorrigible beagle, and the fact that no one had written "DUST ME" on the coffee table yet.

Lord, we give you thanks for the myriad of simple pleasures you create for us. Help us to slow down and savor them. Guide us as we love and care for those in our midst. May we never tire of praising you for our blessings. Amen.

 

A Faithful Friend

In my profile I mention that we have an old beagle, almost ten to be exact. Buddy the beagle ( his name was already selected when we adopted him). Buddy came to us through a kind of winding chain of people who knew people. But the way we came to adopt Buddy is that when he was 4 he was rescued and his first humans were prosecuted for animal cruelty- he had never had any indoor shelter, nor had he ever had a doghouse. Imagine hot sun, raging storms, winter snow, and you are tied to a leash in the yard with nowhere to go. He ended up at the Humane League shelter and was adopted by different households, but the one we got him from was breaking up and no one could keep him. He has adenoid issues from all of the outdoor exposure and Lyme disease that is currently in remission. He used to have a really bad case of thunderphobia, but sadly now is going deaf. This photo is a couple of years old, but he looked so coy here, I decided it was the right shot.

You would think after all of that- lack of permanence, your humans are cruel to you- it would really leave a mark on your personality. Make you mean, vengeful, suspicious. On the contrary, Buddy is the most pleasant, even tempered and agreeable dog you could ever have ( minus some really bad breath). And he is absolutely devoted to me. When I come home, he is at the door, tail wagging so hard his rear end is wagging, and he howls to tell me all about his day and how much he missed me. He thinks he is a lapdog even though he weighs 40 pounds. A happy puppy is the one sleeping on Mom in the sunroom on Sunday afternoon while she reads the paper. Leftover lovingly distributed dog hairs in three colors are sure to be on every outfit so I can think about him when I am not at home. So what’s there not to love?

Unfortunately in the beagle world, perhaps even more than some other breeds, when you claim a loved one, you want to always make sure everyone else knows. Which in dog-speak means, stink up their stuff real good in your scent. One day I was cleaning out my closet and left a pile of shoes out when I went to run errands. Buddy marked the spot in the traditional leg-lift way. He thought he'd done real good.

If I leave my pj’s out on the floor or bed when I am in a hurry, they will be fluffed up and made into a pillow he lays on until I return.

Until recently I could not figure out the scratching of the carpet by my closet door and my dresser. Then one day on our walk, I saw him scratching to mark that he has been there. The light bulb of the epiphany moment flickered on. He is staking out his turf ( as if some other dog might be in the house). He is expressing devotion.

No matter how bad my day was. No matter that I yelled at him for digging in the trash can when I got home, when what he really wanted was a “I missed you, let me rub your belly.” No matter when my husband and I are late getting home and he has been waiting past when the humans should be here. No matter that we give him whiplash on the retractable leash every time he is just about to snatch that really good looking snack on the ground. He is still there, tail wagging and claiming me as his special person.
And in spite of a history of bad human behavior before he came to live with us, he has always had faith in humans to change. Although I suspect this is helped by a good food bowl.

In a lot less smelly canine way, God is like that. He claims us as His own. Even when we seem to reject Him. He still believes in us, even when He shouldn’t. He’s glad to see us even when we have been neglectful of our relationship. And those of us who are marked with the cross of Christ can never be permanently separated from Him – kind of like those little beagle hairs that just dig in and won’t let go.