My Way and the Highway

Our dog Charlie died.  It is a sad time at the Spruill house, but I knew it was coming.  He wouldn’t stay in the fence.  He wouldn’t stay on the run.  He escaped from most any collar.  If he pushed his way out the door, he would take off running, ignoring our calls and whistles.  He seemed to enjoy being defiant and running away.

We would call for him, but he wouldn’t come.  He would run all over the neighborhood.  On more than one occasion, we chased him through the neighbors’ yards, trying to get him to come home.  We would run after him and he would take off when he saw us coming.  He was about the least obedient dog I have ever owned.  And I knew that someday, it would get him killed.  Two nights ago, he escaped out of the house and ran off.  It was dark, so Tammy couldn’t see well enough to even attempt to find him.  Nor could the driver see soon enough to avoid him when he dashed across the highway.

Obedience would have saved his life.  Staying within the boundaries would have saved his life.  All the fences, chains, collars and schemes we worked to try to keep him safe certainly did prolong his life.   But in the end, he kept insisting on having it his way, and it caught up to him.  It always does.

God, if there are dogs in Heaven, let Charlie be there.  But just so I don’t meet him there too soon, please, keep the fences high, help me stay obedient, and don’t give up on me, no matter how dark it gets.