It's a Dog's Life

The first time it happened I panicked. Bailey and I were in the backyard playing ball when I saw a little fledgling on the ground. It was old enough to fly but was still small. I crouched down to see it better. Surprisingly it didn't seem at all afraid; it regarded me as curiously as I did it. Bailey loped over and calmly sat across from me, also regarding the bird. "Look Bailey, it's a baby," I said. The bird didn't try to fly or run away. It just stood there calmly looking at the two of us, woman and dog. That's when it happened. Before I could blink Bailey swallowed the bird. Whole.

I screamed. Then I immediately started smacking Bailey on the top of the head. In a flash, as quickly as she'd taken it into her mouth, she spit it out. My husband flew out the backdoor, responding to my screaming. If you ever have a crisis, he's the man you want. The bird, dazed and a little gooey, promptly flew up to the nearest pine branch to collect itself. Its first flying lesson had turned into a bigger lesson than it bargained for, namely: be afraid of people and animals.

I quickly explained what had transpired to my husband to calm him down. He said, "Please don't scream like that," while he clutched his chest.

Strangely the first thing that came to mind was the old Sylvester and Tweety cartoons. I was wonder struck. Who knew that kind of thing could happen in real life. Bailey was shamed and a little sheepish. She didn't want to play ball anymore. I imagined she was embarrassed. Frankly I was disappointed in her. It wasn't like she was a puppy, and she'd never done anything like that before.

The second time it happened I was heartbroken. I was getting ready for school one morning, and I walked through the kitchen. When I glanced at the back door, something was amiss. Bailey was no where to be seen. Usually she sat expectantly right in front of the door, waiting for her morning petting session, or at the least she should have been relaxed on the deck nearby. I walked over and peered out. I looked to the right first. Nothing. I turned to the left just in time to see her toss a little brown ball into the air. I was suspicious.

I shot across the yard in my bare feet and gasped in horror. When she saw me approaching, Bailey spit the ball out in a move reminiscent of the formerly mentioned incident. There on the ground lay a perfectly formed baby rabbit. I picked it up in time to see it heave out its last breath. I over reacted. "Murder!" I yelled as I pointed to Bailey's maximum security prison. She ducked her head, put her tail between her legs, and rocketed for her dog house.

Still holding the rabbit, I locked her up. Then I found an old washcloth and put the bunny into the outside garbage can. I was heartbroken. How could Bailey do such a thing?  I know. She did it because she's a dog and a sporting breed no less. What did I expect?

You might think these incidents would alter my feelings for Bailey that watching her hurt those tiny creatures would make me think less of her, but it didn't. I still love her just the same.

Just what makes me love Bailey so much anyway? It isn't because I gain anything from having her. In fact, she costs us a ton of money. We buy good food and treats for her.  The older she gets the more expensive her vet bills become. It isn't like she's not any trouble either. Her hair gets everywhere, which drives my husband batty. He also refuses to entrust her to anyone but us, so she goes with us on vacation and dictates our plans for travel in general.

What is it then? What's the deal? I love her. I just do, just because she is Bailey and for no other reason. She keeps me company and brings joy to my life not through anything she does or doesn't do or through anything she has to offer me in any material way but simply through  being Bailey.

I've learned something important from my relationship with my dog. Max Lucado puts it like this, "You are valuable because you exist. Not because of what you do or what you have done, but simply because you are."  I've seen that God loves us in this same way. Honestly, this is not a new idea Jesus himself said, "Look at the birds of the air, for they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns; yet your heavenly  Father feeds them. Are you not of more value than they?" Matt.6:26 (NKJV) Jesus makes that last statement a question because he knows we'll answer, "Of course!" Once again he's pointing out the obvious. God takes care of things in nature right? Why wouldn't he take care of you?

If I, as a pitiful and selfish human being, can love my dog unconditionally, then imagine how much God in his divine perfection can love me.

A few weeks ago, Bailey spit out another baby rabbit. This time I was much calmer about it. I scolded her but didn't take it to heart. She is a dog after all, and I realized the cuteness of the bunny was the essential reason I didn't want her to kill it. Imagine if she'd hunted down a nasty, hulking rat. I would have been cheering her on. Also, in a roundabout way I owe her now; in seeing her, with all her flaws, I've been better able to see myself.


Image credit: http://disneycharacter.org/r-nice-pictures-of-tweety-bird-and-sylvester-cat-51.htm