reset 06/23/99
After Esther's brutal slaying, we decided to get another Rotweiller. It couldn't be just any Rotweiller though. We wanted one just as nice and lovable as Esther. We contacted the family that sold us Esther only to be informed that Esther's litter was the last. Esther's mom had been spayed. We looked up the other half of the family tree to find a thriving Rotweiller breeding/training business. These dogs were all trained for show, not for guard duty. We were delighted to find out a litter of puppies sired by Esther's brother was due any day. We about keeled over when we were quoted the whopping price of $750 for a female. There was not much to think about though. We were beyond thinking. That dog was going to bring us some peace of mind. We couldn't have Esther back, but we could provide a home for a close relative.
The puppies came. We were so excited, we wanted a glimpse at our 2-day-old puppy.. When we arrived at the house, we were greeted by Esther's father. He was a stately, retired champion showdog. The lady of the house took us back to where the mother dog was tending to her young. We were told a bit of disheartening news. Only two puppies survived the night. The mother had inadvertently slept atop some of her young. We wrote a check for the puppy we would name Sarah. That was the name Courtney had chosen for her little sister, had she had a little sister instead of Creighton. We were told to come back in six weeks to bring Sarah home after she was weaned from her mother.
Sarah grew quickly. She never could take her aunt's place. Sarah was rougher with the kids. She wasn't as smart. We took her for obedience training. The instructor said Sarah was one of her most difficult cases. We loved her anyway. She carried all her aunt's memories in a single glance.
One day, a small black and white puppy appeared in our carport. We thought he must belong to the neighbor next door. The following day, the puppy was back. Maybe he hadn't even gone anywhere to come back from. Courtney wanted to keep him. I said he belonged to someone, not us. Rose and Courtney put some food and milk out for the puppy. To no one's surprise, he was still hanging around on the third day. It was then that I agreed we could bring the puppy into the back yard for his own safety while we sought out the rightful owners. I made a sign and posted it in our front yard: Black and White Puppy Found Here. We had not one inquiry. After two weeks, I reluctantly withdrew the sign from our yard.
We were now in search of a name, since we owned a second dog by default. He reminded me of the dog in the movie "The Nightmare Before Christmas" -- nothing but skin, bones, and a tail. Thus, we dubbed our adopted puppy, Zero. That mutt ate everything in sight. Zero fit the profile we had heard about in foster parent training. Kids who were not offered three regular meals a day in their parental setting often gorged themselves at the first opportunity in their foster parent home. Not knowing when or from where their next meal would come birthed a famine-feast mentality. Without regard to manners at mealtime, Zero ate and grew and grew. We didn't know what kind of dog Zero was, but the options were dwindling as he outgrew breed after breed. Our attention quickly turned to prohibiting mutt puppies between Sarah and Zero -- royalty and the homeless.
I called the local, government-subsidized clinic which had a charter to help control the pet population. They offered low-cost spay-neuter services. I made an appointment to bring Zero in for daypatient surgery. The day of Zero's appointment, it rained like cats and dogs. I had Courtney with me in the passenger seat. Zero was latched to one of the built-in hooks in the bed of the Jeep. I knew roughly where the clinic was located, but I proceeded slowly down the well-traveled road, still in the midst of a downpour. We came upon the clinic, and I realized that I would have to make an unprotected left turn across three lanes of traffic. As the light downstream turned red, I saw an opportunity to negotiate my way across the motionless lanes of traffic. The cars were more than accommodating as we crossed one, two, three lanes of bumper-to-bumper cars. It was only then that I realized, "Oh, here's a fourth lane that popped up as a right turn only lane." My view down that lane was obscured by a large transport truck. I waited a few seconds without seeing any cars whatsoever using that lane. I decided to shoot across. I gave it some gas, then saw something coming at unavoidably high speed. I quickly transferred my foot from gas to brake, but impact was imminent. In a blur, we saw a commercial catering truck pass directly in front of us. We barely felt a thing, but the truck decapitated our Jeep. Bumper, headlights, grill -- everything in front of the radiator was a good fifty feet up the road.
I believe an angel of God saved us that day. After all, protecting the saints is the angelic responsibility. One second deeper into that lane of traffic would have landed Courtney and I in the hospital if not in the morgue. I'd never heard of, seen, or experienced such a benign, high-impact accident. Our Jeep limped across that fourth lane into the parking lot of our destination. The truck driver backtracked to our location. We went inside the clinic to get out of the rain, exchange information, and make the necessary phone calls to insurance, towing company, and ride service (home).
After parting business with the truck driver and before opening business with the tow truck operator, I decided to go get the dog out of the car. At least I was going to accomplish my mission of the morning. I ran to the car and back to avoid the rain. I don't know why, because my clothes were already saturated. As Zero entered the building, he noticed something I hadn't. There was a mirror set up at dog eye level in the front hallway. Zero barked profusely at the other dog just a few feet away. I don't know why, but the proprietors thought Zero's behavior unusual. They refused to take him. The assistant also added that Zero had mange around his eyes. I saw no mange. I reasoned with them that he was just in an automobile accident, he was all wet, and he saw his reflection for the first time. Logical argument or not, we left the clinic with everyone's genitalia intact. Meanwhile, Rose had arrived to give us a ride back home.
I contemplated letting troublesome Zero run free then and there. We'd given him a home. We were trying to do the responsible thing. I was just told by people that handle huge numbers of dogs that Zero had mange and exhibited unusually aggressive behavior. Rose calmly said, "No let's bring him home, and I'll make him an appointment to see our regular veterinarian." That's exactly what we did.
The lady at the vet's office chuckled when Rose gave her Zero's name. "Zero!", she laughed, "...More like six-million-and-one." Our vet gave him the necessary surgery and initiated a series of six, $30 mange therapy baths. Later, we found out that Zero had heartworms. Administering the cyanide medication for this condition used to be quite risky, but a new, safer treatment was now available for about $400. We coughed up the funds for that procedure too. Suddenly, Zero was an expensive dog. He was the equal in value to the Rotweiller at home in our back yard.
A remarkable transformation has now taken place. The mutt that ate everything in sight has become a picky eater. He no longer gobbles the entire contents of his bowl in three seconds flat. He often walks away from his bowl, leaving food behind. He knows his every need will be provided. He knows that another meal will come. He knows he is loved. He knows he has a permanent home.
Zero was brought from the streets and elevated to the status of royalty. As Christians, we too have been brought from a depraved state and been given a seat at the King's Table. That dog went from zero to infinity. We, too, can rest assured that God will provide our every need. We are children of the King. Why should you choose to live otherwise? God doesn't give us what we deserve, and He generously gives us what we don't deserve. You are not your own. You were bought with a price. None is more valuable. None is more loved. Check out Philippians 4:19, "And my God will meet all your needs according to his glorious riches in Christ Jesus." Rest in our eternal reward as promised to God's children in Romans 8:16-17, "The Spirit himself testifies with our spirit that we are God's children. Now if we are children, then we are heirs -- heirs of God and co-heirs with Christ, if indeed we share in his sufferings in order that we may also share in his glory."
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reset 06/23/99