Ever since I started reading The Art of Racing in the Rain (a story told from a dog’s perspective) I’ve noticed I’ve been extra kind to our Samoyed. A tribute to anthropomorphism at its finest. But honestly, anyone trying to claim animals lack feelings needed to watch the show on Animal Planet on Mother’s Day about a lemur having to leave its baby behind. The ring-tailed lemur came back to check on the baby multiple times. Needless to say the special made me cry.
Anyway, we’ve had our dog, Korah for eleven years. She’s kept us entertained with her cat-like antics, hopping upon chew toys with a feline pounce. She’s added fragrance to our lives when she managed to get sprayed between the eyes by neighborhood skunks three times. And we’ve had the fine delight of discerning her diet. And like Marley from Marley & Me…she produces treasures. Unlike that lovable book (and dog) I wish I could celebrate a necklace or two she’s digested fully, but our finds include things of the less, shall we say shiny variety. Hot pink Polly Pocket pants. Baby wipes fully intact and other non-identifiable objects.
Last week many of you heard about my excursion to the doctor’s office because my youngest shoved a round Lego piece high to the heavens inside her nostril (surely she was aiming for the brain). Our wonderful grandfatherly neighbor (and when I say wonderful I truly mean it. We actually have our children call these neighbors Grandma and Grandpa J) came to inform me our sweet eleven-year-old white snowball (often compared to a polar bear) left a present in their yard to clean up. And like a good neighbor, I cleaned what needed cleaning, then preceded to take my youngest to dislodge the Lego. I lead such a glamorous life, eh?
So all this to say what? My affection for our dog runs deep. She’s been there for me in some Marley & Me moments before. I’ve had good cries lying next to her, letting her lick my hand after I’ve wiped away tears. Anything for salt. They’ll do anything for salt.
But seriously, I could not ask for a better dog. Eye allergies cause brownish-black scythe shapes to drip out of her eyes—very noticeable against her blanket of white fur (even her eyelashes are white…how cool is that?). A friend used to tease me she thought Korah looks like the lead singer from KISS. I don’t see it.
I don’t see it because when I look at her I see the compilation of all the times she’s been a faithful friend to me. I see her sniffing each of the three baby caps we brought home from the hospital and her peeing the same night to remind us of her territory. I see her drowned in tomato juice when I attempted to get out the skunk smell. I see her raspberry tongue and her wagging curled gigantic squirrel tail. I see a dog that’s endured six moves, three children and our waning energies to walk her as she should be walked.
I see our sixth family member. No wonder a book told from a dog’s perspective instigates me to lavish more love on our dog. It’s about time. And you wonder who bought the book for me?
Are you a dog person like me?
*As a strange side note: the day I wrote this post we returned from the grocery store to find Marley & Me on our sunroom table. For the life of me I can’t remember who I’d lent it to, but it had been returned. And you wonder who got Marley & Me down off the shelf and put it on the sunroom table while we were gone? ;)
Every Friday I’m going to ask a question. The questions I choose might be ambiguous on purpose. The goal is to have you answer the question according to your beliefs, where you’re at in life or a circumstance that might have recently impacted you. The only thing I ask is that you provide an explanation for why you answered the way you did.
On my daughter’s door: Sooper Shannon 
I thoroughly enjoyed the book Notes from the Tilt-A-Whirl by N.D. Wilson. In Notes…Wilson shares how this world is a story unraveling before our eyes—God’s story.
