Old dogs and the Master's hand.

Lately I have been watching my old dog as he deals with getting on in years.  The pup that he used to be is long gone.  He is pretty much deaf, moves slowly, and sometimes gets in the way.  He prefers to sleep now rather than run and just getting to the door to greet me is a chore.

Still, in his heart he remembers the dog he was.  His spirit is willing but his flesh is failing him.  He was and is a good dog.  A 'good dog'.  That says a lot.

When he passes on I know we will say many things about him.  We will remember the things he loved to do, the times he made us laugh and why we loved him for the dog he was.  He was a pound rescue and I think he knows how fortunate a dog he was being chosen to be a part of this family.  In return he was our dog.  He was faithful, he was loyal, he was a hard worker and vigilant for all enemies, both foreign and domestic.  He was not perfect and tended to stray from the path we chose for him if the temptation of a trailside lizard was greater than he could bear.  He could not stand another dog to get near his front yard.  Love thy neighbor was not always the case.

But he knew his master's voice and he responded to the gentle urging of the master's hand.  At the end of the day, when he was in his place on the bed in our living room, a pat on the head would suffice; perhaps a piece of cheese.  And the words most often said were, "Moots, you are a good dog".

A 'good dog'.  For a family pet like him, that sums it all up.  It is all he desires to be and the reward is enough...a calm and loving voice of the one he serves, the touch of a hand, reassuring and gentle; a place to rest in the living room of his family; his daily bread (and a pancake or two). His time is growing short on this earth and when he is no longer in his place next to the TV and he has passed into memory, the best thing I can think to say of him will be "good dog".  Well done, Moots.

In some ways, Moots is a mirror held to my face.  I want to look away as it shows me a shadow of the time when I grow truly old, God willing.  My body is failing too and my time is running out.  And so I wonder - what is it that I want to be said of me by the Master?  This pound rescue that I am is grateful to have been chosen and brought into His family.  I did nothing to deserve it and I often stray from the path following the temptation of the errant lizard.  I often bark at the neighbors.

So at the end of my day, when the last rabbit chase is but a memory and the heartbeat stills, I will follow my nose toward home and the smell of pancakes on the griddle and a promised place of my own in the living room of my Master.  And hopefully I will hear the words that every old pooch wants to hear:  Good dog.

Matthew 25:23 (King James Version)

 ²³His lord said unto him, Well done, good and faithful servant; thou hast been faithful over a few things, I will make thee ruler over many things: enter thou into the joy of thy lord.

Moots, the Dog, stage right.