Dog, Gone

James 1:17a – Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father….

One of the great inequities of life is that the Creator determined that the years of the dog should be much less than the years of man. I have a strong suspicion that this was one of the weightier punishments of man’s fall in Eden. A couple of weeks ago it was our lot to bear the sadness and weight of this inequity.

People who don’t have dogs don’t understand the bond we have with them. I mourn more for dogs I have lost than I have for some of the people I have lost. That sounds a bit callous, I suppose. Perhaps it is so because my dogs have been a picture of unconditional love. They never cared what I accomplished or screwed up that day. Whether I was hero or heel, victor or vanquished. They only cared that I was home and the pack was complete. That was all they needed to be joyful. In reality it was all we needed too.

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But now Trey is gone. I find myself looking for him in his normal places, my schedule still bound to his. I routinely reach for the door and turn my head to call for him, catching myself just as sound escapes my lips.

I am not sure how to have morning coffee without letting him out with me on the back porch to watch the sunrise together. Evening walks are now too quiet without the sound of his tags jangling from his collar. Who will remind me to take breaks from tying flies by putting his head on my leg to tell me that we need to play fetch?

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Who will protect us from the cats, ‘possums and haints that invade the backyard? Who will soothe our young granddaughter to sleep when she is away from her familiar room back at home?64338_10152517343184514_2108219229908134192_n

Our pack is incomplete. There is a lab-sized hole in our hearts.  And we mourn.

 

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Fetch em up Trey!

 

 

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