Dogs, Fences and Finding Home

Hello and welcome to Scattered Moments. There's a verse in Psalm 84 that has grown more precious over the years. Better a day in your courts than a thousand anywhere else. When I was young, I wasn't so sure. I imagined that happiness lived somewhere beyond the fence, beyond the rules, beyond the boundaries, beyond the place where God had planted me. Maybe that's why I've always remembered two dogs who once shared our home. One was named Frank and the other was Arthur. And they couldn't have been more different. Arthur and Frank were two of many family dogs that wound up at our place, but they both embraced vastly different worldviews. Frank was our conflicted dachshund. He was a feisty, weenie dog that never met a stranger he liked. He was adorable, but always up for escape. Chasing Frank reminded me of a bad episode of Cops, where the suspects sprint through the alleys and over the hedges, narrowly escaping the long arm of the law. One thing's for certain, it kept me in shape. He would elude our grasp for minutes, if not hours. Who needs a treadmill to stay in shape when you're doing daily windsprints to capture Frank? Escape was his goal. Escape to where? I don't even think he knew. I built a fence in the backyard so he could have a taste of the outdoors. What was I thinking? It took me several afternoons, but like Houdini, Frank devised and mastered an escape strategy in under two minutes. Frank could have easily used some pharmaceutical assistance, but I wasn't going to shell out the money for dog shrinks. For the best I could tell, he was adopted into a loving home where there was plenty of food, fresh water, but the wide world of danger and vicarious survival called his name. He ended up where all failed pets go, to the grandparents. We discovered Arthur about a year later at a local pound, a slightly overweight golden retriever. He had his faults, but one thing he never wanted to do was to go anywhere without us. We'd leave the door wide open and he would wait for us to make the first move. We rarely even used a leash. Arthur was joined at the hip to our boys. He had no interest in going to places without us. He would mourn our departure and celebrate our return. We gave him the freedom to go anywhere in the world, but his favorite place to be was with his people. These two dogs, they serve as kind of life strategies. There are some people like Frank who want nothing more than to climb over the boundaries of God's protection. Others are Arthur people. They could go anywhere, but are satisfied to be with the people that they love the most. I have to confess, in my younger years, I yearned to jump the fence, sneak away, and burrow under God's gracious boundaries. I looked at every wall as punishment and every rule as a burden to cast aside. However, experience has taught me that there's no place like home, especially for an old mutt like me. Until next time, take care. Notice those scattered moments and share the grace.