Who's training who?

Well, the big news around our house is that we got our new dog this weekend- Bosco, a 9-month old Boston Terrier. If you've happened to follow my Facebook page in the recent past, you might recall that our little 12-year-old Pekingese, Beavis passed away a couple of months back. At that time, we made the statement that we didn't want to get another one because we didn't want to go through that loss again. Beavis was literally like one of our children, and after 12 years of having him around, I'm positive that having to take him out and bury him will endure as one of the hardest things I've ever had to do.

There's something about pets that I've learned over and over again (including right now) that never ceases to amaze me- the fact that, for all our talk about training them, they end up teaching us much more. I was crazy about Beavis, but he could be so stubborn at times that it would just frustrate me no end that he couldn't see that I was trying to do what was best for him. He had an independent streak so wide that his small body size seemed like a deception. In his last couple of years, however, his health steadily declined to the point that he wasn't able to go upstairs on his own, so every night, I'd scoop him up in my arms and carefully carry him up, making it a point to set him down gently once we got there to allow his weak little legs and hips to adjust to his body weight. He could then go to his water dish on his own for his bedtime drink, then he'd let me deposit him into bed.

As I was carrying him up one night when he'd been particularly weak, the thought struck me of what a little microcosm that was of what it must be like for God to deal with me sometimes. I can certainly be stubborn and unwilling to listen when a superior power tries to get me to see what is or is not good for me. But it never fails that when I get in over my head, He is willing to scoop me up and get me safely through whatever challenge is at hand, because His love for me isn't daunted in the least by my stubbornness. To Him, my welfare takes precedence over my sometimes-boneheaded behaviors. That's a good piece of information to have right there.

So, what am I learning from Bosco as he enters his second full day in our household? I can name several things already: resilience, spirit, determination, and love for life. Bosco's story is not a happy one at all. He was born in a "puppy mill", an unethical breeding operation where the goal is to produce the maximum number of dogs for the maximum possible profit. When he was born, he had some serious health problems in the form of severe allergies and digestive problems that caused him to be really small and thin. The people who ran the "puppy mill" only saw that he was not going to be a money maker for them, so they basically decided to just starve him to death and not provide any vet care for him. I can't imagine a worse position to be in for a creature that vulnerable. There was every possibility that his story would end, painfully, right where he was, and no one would have ever been the wiser.

Fortunately, a puppy rescue organization found out about him somehow and took him in. It was an improvement, but he was still in crowded conditions with other dogs, subject to whatever other health problems might have come from that. The puppy rescue depended on donated food, so he ate whatever they were able to get their hands on. Portions and appropriate diet were pretty much just items of wishful thinking. He did get some basic vet care, and he was even adopted once, by a lady who returned him after about a month because she didn't want to deal with his health issues. The chances for him to get adopted permanently looked pretty slim, enough so that the rescue organization put him on the internet. That's where we came in, and this past Saturday, we made the 275-mile drive over some pretty darn slick roads to go make him ours, and it's one of the most worthwhile trips I've ever made.

In "dog years", Bosco is even now just an early adolescent, and if he was human, we'd have every reason to expect he'd be a juvenile delinquent (or whatever they call it now), given what he's been through. Instead, he's just a joy to be around. Showing him even a little love has been like touching a match to gasoline- he's just exploded into this delightful little personality that loves his new family with all his heart, and I don't even know how describe how hard he tries to please us. There is no bitterness, he is not withdrawn, and he loves to make us laugh. He is a one-man show on the subject of how life is worth living to the fullest extent possible, regardless of what you've been through or what your frailties might be. He is a living example to even the most skeptical heart that love can conquer anything. A lesson like that, from whatever source, is worth more than gold in my book.

He's pretty darn cute, too. We're glad he's here.