Good Ol’ Moses

>Yesterday, after coming home from church and the basement potluck afterwards (one of the things that makes rural-ish community so endearing) I felt completely exhausted. So, I sent my kiddos outside to play in the sandbox and whatever other kind of safe mischief they could get into while I tried to grab a little shut-eye.

I love sabbath naps. Well, I love napping in general, but knowing that I’m napping on the day designated for rest makes it all that more pleasurable.

Anyway, after about 20 min. I woke up and checked on my kids. They were still blissfully playing outside–TOGETHER, sans arguing–and I was proud of them. Then, I scanned the yard.

No Moses.

“Moooooooo-seeeeeeee-s!” Over and over again, but still no Moses.

I was no longer proud of my children. If I’ve told them once, I’ve told them a million times, “If Moses is outside with you, you either have to keep a close watch on him or keep him chained up.” And for some reason, I couldn’t stop myself from reminding them of this and the fact that they hadn’t done it over and over again; as if my constant chastisement would somehow make our dog magically appear.

My town may be small, but it is the biggest tourist attraction in the entire state of North Dakota. Which means, in the summer months our 5 paved streets are crawling with people, pets, and Harley Davidsons from sun-up to sun-down. From Memorial Day to Labor Day the population of Medora grows by roughly 3,000,000%. (Okay, maybe not that much, I don’t really know the exact figures, but it’s a lot.)

So, with that in mind, this is the worst time of year to have our dog running at large, like a convict with the prison gates left open. No one knows that our dog doesn’t bite. All they see is a largish, prowling dog coming straight at them because he loves people and he wants to be stroked and petted by every person along his path. Believe it or not, that’s scary!

After having sufficiently chided my kids and barking at them to get their shoes on, I called our local police department, and we took off on our bikes. When that didn’t prove to be working–the kids were trying to keep up with their hot (under the collar) momma, and couldn’t seem to stay in single-file style, too much traffic to make their “wanderings” into the middle of the street a cute nuisance–we returned home and went looking for him in the car. Calling out his name all the while.

I was partly hoping that he had gone into the National Park to die. After all, he is old. And if he did die, then I wouldn’t have to deal with this ever again, and his stinky breath, and all the hair, and the licking, and the sniffing, and . . .

So here’s the reason for this long, drawn-out story: I’m still trying to be a good pet owner, and I continue to fail miserably.

Some days I give him extra love, and I take him for walks, and I even sometimes let him run free of me sniffing out the world around us. I buy him expensive food and “healthy” dog treats. His bed is new, and I brag about what a good dog he is.

And the truth is, he IS a GREAT dog, but that’s by his own merit. But I’m not so sure he would say the same thing of me; I’m a poor pet owner. I like the idea of having a pet, but I’m not so friendly to the reality of actually having a pet. Like a child, Moses brings out the best and the worst of me, and I am working hard at seeing more best than worst.

I fully believe that whatever a person has, be it children, financial resources, marriage, a home, intellect, and even pets, that person should steward them with excellence. So, as this principle applies to Moses, I should be not only feeding, grooming, and providing him shelter, but I should be loving him radically as if he was God’s own dog. Because, in fact, Moses is God’s dog. God created him and loves him and delights in canines otherwise why would’ve He made dogs, right?

Why would I rather have Moses die than find in myself the patience and love to accept what Moses is, a good ol’ dog that loves to run?

Granted, I am not a person destined to be a lifetime pet owner, Moses will be our last family pet, but while we have him, it is up to me to be the best pet owner ever!

God, help me!! It is only by His help that I will ever be able to love Moses the way a dog should be loved. So, this is the gratitude I will extend to Moses–he makes me rely on God more–and, as we all know, gratitude is one small step toward a life committed to love.

Thank you, Moses.

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One Response to “Good Ol’ Moses”
  1. Jamie Bucher says:

    So did you ever find him?

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