reset 06/23/99
When we had Courtney, Rose, Angie, and I were living in an all adult apartment complex. We figured you can hide a baby just so long. In the Old Testament, Moses' family found they could hide him no more than about three months before resorting to placing him in the basket boat and casting him out among the reeds of the Nile for Pharaoh's daughter to find. We thought it prudent to begin a search for another place to live. We wanted a house to give us more room. After a long, unsuccessful search process, we basically ran out of time and had to settle for something less than we wanted. When it came time to close, it was discovered that some paperwork hadn't been filed. When I approached the apartment leasing office about getting a one month extension, I was informed that our unit had, in fact, already been leased. We had to vacate. Fortunately, the owner of the home was willing to go ahead and let us move in since she had already moved out with the exception of a few items she kept in the back part of the house.
The home had a huge back yard. We had a 4.5 pound Chihuahua which went wild with so much space to roam. A few hours after moving in though, Max, our Chihuahua, was nowhere to be found. Max was a gift by my brother-in-law to my step-daughter. When Rose left Texas for her three-year military assignment after graduating from nursing school, Max came to live with me. I later took him back to Angie on one of my many trips to California. Max was not real smart, but he was cute -- ugly cute. Max would come sit in my lap. I'd place him inside my jacket. He liked it there, so secure and warm. As are most Chihuahuas, Max was hyperactive. He shivered in a nervous sort of way. Still, for such a little dog, Max could make some noise. He was a good watchdog. Why, when we were living in the apartment, Max chased away a would-be burglar. Max was locked up in the bathroom, but the guy who broke our window to enter the apartment didn't know that. It was a good thing, because if he'd have been able to see what was making all the racquet, he probably would have been nabbed by the police, stricken with a case of uncontrollable laughter. This was no laughing matter though. Max was missing.
Max found a hole in the fence. Any other time, I wouldn't have been concerned. Max had gone on unscheduled strolls before and always returned. This time was different. He didn't know where home was. I patrolled the entire neighborhood, but it is hard to spot a black 4.5 pound Chihuahua, especially if he is not ready to be found. I felt sick. I think it was the next day when a neighbor came over carrying Max. He had eaten supper and spent the night at the neighbors house. I was so relieved. I quickly blocked all possible future routes of escape.
The lady that sold us the home was the original owner. She and her husband, now deceased, had built this custom home in the late fifties. Parting with the home and the memories were difficult for her. She asked if she could remain in the back part of the home while she continued to sift through the final remaining items not yet moved. We figured that since she was nice enough to let us move in early, we'd let her stay late. I think about a month passed before she was ready to leave for good.
There are good things and bad things about owning an older home. I found most of the good things. Rose was quick to tally the bad. I was certainly kept busy sprucing up the place. Rose was quick to keep my To-Do list full. Occasionally, I had to do things which I thought didn't need to be done at all, just to keep the peace. Refinishing all the kitchen cabinets was one such chore. One thing was beyond dispute, we had the space we desired. Why, Baby Courtney had her own room with refinished hardwood floors and fresh pink paint. We were unprepared for what we were about to experience.
Rose was home tending to Courtney when she noticed something frighteningly unusual. There was a man in our back yard with half his body sticking inside our kitchen window. This intruder had removed the screen, raised the window, and was literally fishing for my wife's purse with a stick he had picked up in the backyard. Rose confronted the man, retreated to call 911, then whisked Courtney out the front door to a neighbor's home. The man had indeed hooked the purse and was long gone by the time the police arrived. We found out later that he had actually entered the back part of the home through another window and made off with a television set prior to the kitchen incident. The policeman's comments scared us more. He said that thieves often return.
Canceling all the credit cards was a real hassle, but we had one laugh on the robber. That television he stole, it didn't work! The picture tube had gone out. It received audio, but that's all. Sitting right next to the unit he took was one in working order. He'd think twice before coming back to our house. He risked going to prison for a few dollars from my wife's purse and a broken TV. We weren't worth the effort, though that is a sad commentary on our financial picture.
We decided that we weren't going to sit around waiting to be victims again. That same week, I had a security alarm system installed to give us a little peace of mind. We also decided that perhaps we needed more of a deterrent than poor little Max. Rose asked around. She accepted the advice of friends that a female Rottweiller would be ideal. We did a little searching through the paper and responded to one of the many ads. The person we contacted had one dog left, a female, the runt of the litter. The dog had a terrific pedigree. Since it was the last dog, and the owners were anxious to get out of dog sales, we were offered a bargain price, $400. That was $200 off the list price for models that had already left the showroom floor. That was a lot of money for a dog, in my opinion, but Rose wanted it. We got it.
We named the dog Queen Esther of Chez. Chez was either the owner's name or the mother's name. I can't recall which. Esther was Courtney's dog. They grew up together. Courtney could pull on Esther's ears, tail, whatever, and Esther never ever got upset. Esther got into plenty of trouble. She was a ninety pound puppy. Rose would take Esther jogging. I could no longer go with her. Someone had to stay with Courtney. Esther was Rose's dog. I got the lion's share of the responsibilities that accompany having a pet: feeding, bathing, training, cleaning up after. Esther was my dog.
Boy could Esther protect the property too! Unlike the situation with a pinned up Max barking fearlessly while shaking at the same time, you only had to hear Esther bark to know a real dog was on watch. Why, Esther was even able to call for backup. On a number of occasions, we had unsolicited visits from the police, the fire department, and emergency medical services. Each time they were responding to a dispatch to our address. I was ready to disengage our home alarm system, since these community service organizations were threatening to fine us for false alarms. Then it occurred to me, "Could Esther be pushing the keypad buttons?" In a state of disbelief, I installed a Plexiglas cover over the hallway keypad. The panic mode dispatches abruptly stopped. Esther was chief of security. No one had to know that she would not hurt a fly.
Just as Max was able to find a weakness in the perimeter, Esther too tested the aged wooden fence out back and found an escape route. After a couple of unsuccessful patch jobs, it became obvious that the wooden fence had to go. I also knew that a dog that is able to breech a fence will try again. I bought the necessary supplies from a local do-it-yourself store to replace that old wooden fence with a chain link one. It was tough work, but I got all the holes dug and posts cemented on one weekend. When the next weekend rolled around, I had to knock down the old fence and get the new one up in a single day. Otherwise, the backyard bathroom breaks for both dogs had to be supervised. I got the job done with the exception of the gate. When assembling it, I noticed that I was missing bolts to secure the latch. It was getting dark, and I didn't have the bolts, so I called it quits until I could make a run on the hardware store on Saturday. To semi-secure the area, I draped a line of chain link across the front of the latchless gate and placed some barriers in front of it. Later that evening, as I sat in my green recliner, Esther came up and ran her head under my hand.
On Saturday morning, I was slow to rise. I guess all the physical activity had left me pretty well drained. When I did get up, Rose had already beaten me to the breakfast table. A few minutes had pasted when we heard gunshots at close range. We knew that sound well. The police were constantly being summoned to a nearby apartment complex. Gunfire was a common occurrence, but not during daylight, and not this close. We heard a whole series of shots, five or six in all. Rose asked me to look for Esther. As I was always the one to let her outside in the mornings, I assumed she was inside in the hallway where she slept. Then Rose told me that she had let Esther out into the backyard already. I went out back. Esther was nowhere to be found. Rose went out the front door and began screaming for me to come. Esther was lying dead on our neighbors front lawn.
It seems that our neighbor had sent his son out to get the morning paper. His son reported a big dog running loose. The father went to see for himself and said Esther made a move in his direction. He immediately went back inside and retrieved a shotgun. Whether enticed to approach or not, the neighbor was able to get Esther in his sights at the edge of his lawn. He was seemingly proud of himself as he stated he shot and shot until the dog no longer moved.
Rose screamed at the man over and over again. Meanwhile, Courtney looked on from our front porch. I didn't know what to say either to Rose or the man so ready and willing to use deadly force against his neighbor's pet. I was in a state of disbelief. Rose asked me to bring Esther home, so we could bury her in the backyard. Esther's pellet riddled body was too heavy for me to carry the entire distance. Rose told me to just drag her body the rest of the way. I struggled to do even that. I had been there before.
Rose was six months pregnant at the time carrying Creighton. I was very concerned about her and the baby as she insisted on digging the grave. Only upon reaching complete exhaustion did she allow me control over the shovel to finish the job. Courtney stood at the back door and watched. As emotions ran high, I'm glad we did not own a gun for the neighbor's sake. Courtney was invited to come outside as we said a few words over the gravesite. We spoke of Esther's gentle spirit and her unconditional love displayed in those two years with us. Then Rose when back into the house to tend to Courtney, while I filled the grave.
To this day we don't know for sure how Esther escaped. She may have, in fact, bypassed the barricade job. I cannot rule it out. I later made the trip to the fix-it shop to finish the job on the fence, although it was no longer a priority. I thought the time for shedding tears had passed, but as I surveyed the parts in the hardware section, my heart sank. The store was now selling the latches with all the accessories needed, including my missing bolts. I cried all the way home and more. Perhaps this nightmare need not have happened.
We sought legal counsel, but we were disillusioned by a system which only allowed us to seek monetary compensation. We told our Christian lawyer that all we really wanted was an apology. He drafted a letter for us stating that we would pursue no further action if we received an apology. None ever came. None of any kind.
Courtney also had some unresolved conflict of her own. Soon thereafter, Courtney began exhibiting some strange behaviors. She never wanted to be alone for any length of time. I couldn't even mow the lawn without taking her outside with me if Rose wasn't home. We took Courtney to a number of sessions with a psychologist affiliated with one of the most prestigious Christian counseling centers. In his course of therapy for separation anxiety, he said the triggering event might be useful information, but treatment would focus on exhibited symptoms and coping behaviors. There was no real need to deal with the root cause. Courtney got better, but I don't know if any of us will be able to bury the feelings that were exposed that painful February 1 morning.
Tragedy brings out the best and the worst in us. How are you ready to react? Greek tragedies had a number of things in common. There was always a victim, and the victim always suffered from a fatal character flaw. Oh, the flaw needed not be a trait we'd consider dishonorable. In fact, it could even be an unwavering trust or an unconditional love. In the case of Esther, a string of events had to take place for her to lose her life in a brutal, unjustifiable manner that day. The pain for us comes not necessarily in reliving the what-ifs, but in recalling the love she showed for us. We let her down.
God loves us unconditionally -- all of us, Christian and non-Christian. It is only that the Christian has responded to that love in obedience. We learn in the gospel of John 15:9-14 the words of Jesus,
As the Father has loved me, so I have loved you. Now remain in my love. If you obey my commands, you will remain in my love, just as I have obeyed my Father's commands and remain in his love. I have told you this so that my joy may be in you and that your joy may be complete. My command is this: Love each other as I have loved you. Greater love has no one than this, that he lay down his life for his friends. You are my friends if you do what I command.Jesus, of course, did lay down his life for his friends, you and me. This would be nothing more than a tragedy if not for who Jesus was and why he chose to go to the cross. Jesus was not a martyr. Martyrs are men and women who die unjustly for a cause. Jesus was crucified unjustly. He refused to call down legions of angels to rescue him from the cross because he, indeed, had a mission to accomplish. Jesus is not a martyr because Jesus lives. The God of the universe sent his son Jesus into this world to show the extent of his love for us. Have you acknowledged this display of God's love?
We should experience a separation anxiety when we fail to see God with us. We should be panic stricken when faced with acting on our own accord. Often we save God for when we really need him, as if we had an exhaustive supply of his love. Share the view of the psalmist in chapter 46. Call upon God to be your refuge and strength, an ever-present help in trouble. Unlike the therapist whose goal was to suppress the anxiety which comes through physical separation from a loved one, our desire should be to bind ourselves to God and to suppress the temptations that could part us from fellowship with him. What are you anxious about? The God who formed this universe from nothingness, the God who assembled the atom, the God who breathed life into a lump of inert clay, the God who fashioned your DNA, this God loves YOU unconditionally. Will you return that love?
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reset 06/23/99