The Dog Whisperer...

Meet "Molly".

She's our neighbors' dog.  They're in Germany so we're dog-sitting her. "Strange..." you think, "Todd and Niki aren't really 'dog' people..."

Exactly.

But, we like our neighbors and, since they asked, we were happy to do it.

Now, let's be real, they DO drop by my blog once in a while so I'm going to be sensitive but I'm also going to be honest 'cause, man, I've been learning some things.

See, my wife and kids have 'left the building'.  This is due to our house being listed.  As I'm sure you can appreciate, keeping a house 'show ready' 'aint exactly a piece of cake with FOUR kids living in it.

So, she's gone to her Mom's for a few days in the hopes that we sell quick.  "What happens next week?" Each day has sufficient worry for itself we say. We're not thinking about next week, we're hoping the house sells THIS week.  "Good luck with that..." you say. Oh you of little faith I say.  "Religious fanatic..." you say...

Cuss you out, I say.

Seriously, Molly has been making me cuss a lot.

Like when walking her she stops (abruptly pulling on her leash, sitting her stubborn butt down, glaring at me as if to say "Just TRY and move me you big dummy") on some neighbor's lawn 'cause (imagine it) she's spotted a piece of dried poop which she MUST sniff, roll around in repeatedly until she has green stripes of it on her fur, then EAT.

Like I said, I'm not a 'dog person', I don't know if this is 'normal dog behavior' and since her owners are in Germany I figure let the dog do what it wants.  They can bath her when they get back.

Oh yeah, then there's the whole, "I'm going to just run around in circles chasing my tail and growling..." bit while I'm trying to eat my cereal.  What's that all about?  Reminds me how futile our endless attempts to entertain ourselves are. We're chasing our own tails.  Makes me want to make media that 'matters'.

How 'bout the whole, she sits under my desk while I'm sermonizing licking at her chapped feet until they bleed so much it turns the fur on her face red, bit?  I'm sitting there (smelling wet, bloody dog) thinking, "I don't even know how to help or heal myself. I'm like this stupid dog, totally helpless."

Then, when I'm trying to put her in her house 'cause she likes the smells there and I have to go out to a meeting for a bit and she pulls away from me so hard she pulls the leash right off her head and refuses to come even though I'm commanding her sternly to the point that I get angry and rush towards her, she lifts her paw to defend herself 'cause she thinks I'm going to hit her and I realize that I'm just like her, defenseless in the face of an angry 'god'.

And she misses her parents, like I miss mine. And her 'home' isn't home without them just like my life is empty without Jesus in it and yours is too (even if you won't admit it).

Then I'm walking her tonight (we had a great walk) and she keeps pulling ahead of me and this makes me think, "Man, a dog will ALWAYS take as much leash as you give it..." which is JUST like me, the dude who never has enough, never knows when to call it quits and really struggles with dying to his appetites.

Then she poops (and I've been dreading this part) and I've got to pick it up with the plastic bag and I've NEVER done it (cause I grew up in an age when you just let your dog poop and that was that) and--as I do--I can FEEL the heat and the squishiness of it and it makes me sick and I think, "Man, this is just like my life, running ahead of my Master while He patiently walks with me waiting for me to crap myself so He can stoop and take responsibility for it."

The Gospel.

According to Molly.

Sheesh.  Do I have a lot to learn...

T