Bullet and Miss Dog

My dad has a knack for taking in dogs. When we moved to Harnett County 18 years ago, he adopted a stray dog that my mom affectionately named "Miss Dog." Miss Dog was huge--looked a bit like a wolf--and she would stand on the porch of the church where my dad worked and bark to keep people out because she didn't want anyone messing with my dad. She would also hide in the bathroom shower when thunderstorms came because she was so scared! When Miss Dog died, my dad swore he would never have another dog because he couldn't deal with the grief of losing another animal that he loved. Then came Bullet. And my dad loves Bullet and Bullet loves my dad and when I called home last week my dad was sitting on the porch praying...and talking to Bullet.

Bullet likes to sleep on the couch, preferably when my dad is home, but he'll get up there without him now. Sometimes he sleeps in really weird positions or uses his stuffed animal toy as a pillow. The other day, after tearing the stuffing out of his favorite toy, my dad gave him a new toy and he took it to couch with him when it was naptime. My mom wanted to take a picture of how cute looked for me, but Bullet's built in "Don't Take A Picture of Me" radar kicked in and he woke up. I declare the dog does not like having his picture made! After using the zoom feature of her camera, though, my mom finally got a picture of him asleep. (Today's picture is the picture of him sleeping).

Today's poem, on the other hand, was inspired by Miss Dog. I wrote this my junior year of high school.

"She Looks Up"
8/29/93

She looks up--
Such innocence in her eyes.
Maybe she's trying to hide some guilt;
Maybe not.
But those eyes, her eyes:
They seem so sincere and pure and innocent--
Wanting not to be punished, pleading not for pain
But for love--
Love, affection, and attention.

So young,
Not knowing much of the world's horrors--
Not knowing much about anything at all;
Nothing, that is, except respect and honor and devotion to those she loves.
Wanting simply to be with those for whom she cares--
Following, protecting, pushing away strangers,
Hiding from those whom she does not know.
So insecure,
Scared--not wanting to be hurt:
Just to be loved.

She looks up, her head hanging low,
But those eyes--her eyes--radiate.
They are so sincere and pure and innocent--
Not wanting to be punished!
Can't you see that her tears hide the pain?
Can't you see in those eyes--
Her eyes--
That all she wants is to be loved?
Love...that's all...
Love.

Miss Dog and Bullet were both abused by their previous owners. Their behavior indicated this much when they arrived at our house, yet my dad loved them both into loyalty and companionship. My dad loves dogs. Dogs love my dad. I have to wonder if this is how our relationship with God is sometimes--we are the stinky, broken, abused-by-life dogs and God is the dad who loves us back to being whole.