Great Dog Stories

by M. R. Wells

  Baby’s compassionate vet examined her with knowledge and empathy. She needed lots of stitches and staples to put her back together. But unlike the famous nursery rhyme character Humpty Dumpty, there was more involved than repairing Baby’s outer “shell.” She had lost a great deal of blood—so much that the vet was concerned she might not make it through the night.

  Rather than leaving her with the night staff and going home to a well-deserved rest, Baby’s vet went and fetched his own beloved yellow Lab, Jake. He extracted Jake’s blood and shared it with Baby. Without the extra platelets from Jake, Baby might have died. The assisting vet also stayed after hours with Baby and lovingly kept her covered with warm blankets, meeting her every need. This was necessary because Baby was in shock.

  Baby’s human family was also in shock. They all loved Baby. Why, they wondered, would the other dogs treat her this way? The night was a long one for everybody. They prayed for Baby’s healing and that she would be relieved from all pain.

  The next morning, Baby’s humans were anxious to see how she was doing, praying she was still alive. When they arrived at the vet’s office, they found a happy puppy standing by the door of her cage waiting for them. She was well on her way to recovery. The whole family was deeply grateful to the vet for his sacrificial gifts of love, time, and Jake’s platelets. Baby now lives a quiet life with one other—much calmer—little boxer.

  Jake’s gift of blood gave Baby another chance at life. My gift of blood gave someone another chance too. I had never given blood before, but the son of my husband’s acquaintance was in a life-threatening circumstance. He needed surgery to live. His blood type was rare so they were asking anyone they knew to give blood if it matched his. Mine did, so I decided this was the time to share it. I went down to the blood bank and gave my blood for this young fellow. I never met him, but the surgery was a success and he recovered well. I’d always thought that giving blood was a huge sacrifice, but I realized it was a small sacrifice and a huge honor. I was glad to do it.

  Jake and I gave blood rather painlessly and in sterile surroundings. We didn’t have to die to share it, either. That was not the case with God’s Son. Jesus was horribly and hatefully beaten, then hung on a cross to shed His blood and die for our sins so we could have eternal life. Thankfully, He didn’t stay dead. After three days He rose, just as He’d promised. He met with some of His followers and then went to heaven to prepare a place for all those who accept Him as their Savior.

  Jake’s master gave his dog’s blood to save one boxer pup. I gave my blood to help save one man. Jesus gave His blood to save the world. If, like Baby, we receive the life-giving gift we’ve been offered, we will live in God’s presence forever!

  Then he took a cup, and when he had given thanks, he gave it to them, saying, “Drink from it, all of you. This is my blood of the covenant, which is poured out for many for the forgiveness of sins” (Matthew 26:27-28).

  Consider This:

  Have you ever given blood? What was it like for you? How did you feel about it? When did you last thank Jesus for giving His blood for you? Is there someone you’d like to tell about Jesus’s sacrifice so that they might have a chance at eternal life?

  Freeing Shadow

  Perfect Love Casts Out Fear

  Love is the magician that pulls

  man out of his own hat.

  BEN HECHT

  Jennifer and her husband, Lynn, already had Panda, a two-year-old Tibetan terrier whom they had adopted from a stable, loving home. This dog was an “easy child”—affectionate, outgoing, and healthy right from the start.

  Shadow was a different story. A six-year-old terrier/toy poodle mix, he was abandoned by his original owners and wandered the streets in the East San Fernando Valley until the pound picked him up. He was adopted soon after, but a year later the family returned him because their house was in foreclosure. On top of that, he had developed a leg injury. He was now “damaged goods,” which minimized his chances of adoption.

  Jennifer, however, fell in love with Shadow the minute she saw his picture on the rescue website. Shadow had the same coloring and markings as Panda—jet-black coat with a white chest and front paws, and melting brown eyes. So she and Lynn arranged to have Shadow meet Panda to see how they got along. They didn’t kill each other, so Jennifer and Lynn signed the adoption papers and became a family of four.

  They quickly found out their new kid was not Panda. Instead of being a people-pup, he was standoffish and skittish. When Lynn came near, Shadow would growl and hiss. Jennifer had to do a lot of coaxing to get Shadow to come, whereas Panda was always craving attention.

  Shadow’s leg problem compounded his negativity. He was often lethargic and cranky. If Jennifer and Lynn pushed too hard to engage him, Shadow hobbled off and hid, not wanting to be bothered, sometimes foregoing food. He would squeeze into the narrowest and most insular spots in the house. His favorite hiding place was underneath Lynn and Jennifer’s heavy and immovable bed, so flushing him out was often an exercise in frustration. He refused to be sweet-talked, biting and snarling more viciously than his owners could believe. Jennifer would finally put on a protective mitt to reach under the bed and grab at him—but then the little stinker would dart to the other side. They kept their bedroom door closed to cut down on those episodes.

  It took lots of loving, gentle coaxing, and great endurance for bites and snarls, but after about six months of being with his family, Shadow began to lower his defenses. The turning point came shortly after a new medication began to ease his leg pain. Instead of indifference when Panda walked by, Shadow crouched down, wagged his tail, and pounced on his unsuspecting housemate. Jennifer’s heart was touched. From that moment on, the pups began to pal around and even snuggle up together in bed. They would never have done that in the early days.

  Soon, Shadow was spending time in the living room instead of retreating to his hiding places, and would even cry out when he wanted to be picked up or held. As his leg improved, he became bouncy and animated, even approaching other people with a wagging tail! When Jennifer’s sister visited for Thanksgiving, Shadow followed her everywhere, and loved cuddling up to her on the couch.

  Jennifer and Lynn soon discovered Shadow loved belly rubs! A few well-placed scratches would send him rolling over, mouth opened wide with ecstasy. He even took to licking his people’s hands or faces and recently graduated to giving lavish Eskimo kisses! That’s quite a milestone for a former canine “affection Scrooge.”

  When Jennifer first told me about Shadow, I wondered why they’d kept that scared, snapping, snarling, hissing misanthrope so long. Why didn’t they give him back? They had no idea he’d eventually come around to being the sweet and lovable dog he is today. Why bring home a gimpy middle-aged hostile street urchin when they could have just as easily adopted a sweet, adorable pick-of-the-litter purebred puppy?

  Because…

  When Jennifer said she fell in love with him at first sight, she did not mean it in a lightweight, teen romance novel, pop-song “groovy kind of love” way. Jennifer’s love for Shadow was the same kind of love parents have for their kids and God has for us. It’s that 1 Corinthians 13 kind of love: patient, kind, protective, trusting, hoping, and persevering. This Super Love, when applied in generous amounts over time to those who have been wounded by abandonment and abuse, has the most incredible healing effect.

  First John 4:18 says, “There is no fear in love. But perfect love drives out fear.” Jennifer and Lynn brought Shadow into a loving home and over time, the root fear of abandonment and abuse was driven out. What was left behind was the treasure of a real family.

  We humans who suffer from similar issues of abandonment and abuse, who hide in narrow places and snap, snarl, and bite when others try to reach out to us, are also offered a healing kind of love. It’s God’s love, and it’s meant to bring us into relationship with our true family. God paid a much higher price for this love than Jennifer and Lynn did in working with Shadow. But this
love is the source of the ultimate transformation of the heart—and just like it did with Shadow, this love will set us free.

  Jesus cast seven demons out of a woman named Mary Magdalene. His love transformed her into one of His most devoted followers. Then Jesus called a tax collector named Matthew to follow Him. Matthew responded to that love-inspired invitation, turned from his old life, and went on to write a book of the Bible.

  Love has the power to transform demon-possessed women, unscrupulous tax collectors, and antisocial dogs.

  Love has the power to transform the world.

  Love has the power to transform you and me.

  Beloved, let us love one another, for love is from God; and everyone who loves is born of God and knows God…. for God is love (1 John 4:7-8 NASB).

  Consider This:

  How has fear held you back in your life? How has love transformed and freed you? Who might God be calling you to reach out to with His love?

  The Saga of Walter Brennan

  Love Doesn’t Count the Cost

  For it is in giving that we receive.

  ST. FRANCIS OF ASSISI

  I had the immense privilege of spending a week with Walter Brennan toward the end of his life. Not Walter Brennan the actor—Walter Brennan the dog. He was in rough shape when my cousin Elly and her husband, Jim, took him in, but he blessed and changed their lives forever.

  Walter was a big red Hungarian vizsla. He was pre-owned, but his family had gone through a rough patch. That’s how he wound up with a rescue group at the age of seven. At this point his name was Damon. Elly spied him on a website. He was oversized for a vizsla and a bit goofy-looking, but Elly found this endearing—and called his rescue group.

  Elly and Jim already had two vizslas, Willie and Bonnie. She was looking for a pal for them. What she learned about Damon sounded promising. He had a couch potato side that would suit Willie well. But he also loved to run, which would make him a fun friend for Bonnie. Was this a match made in doggie heaven?

  Maybe—but there were medical issues. Damon had hurt his knee, undergone surgery, and was fighting infection. He was currently running on three legs. Elly’s vet reviewed Damon’s case and believed she knew what was causing the trouble. She thought she could probably fix him with a new surgery. But Damon also had heartworm disease. This can be transmitted by mosquitoes—which abound where Elly lives. She was concerned for her other dogs and felt she couldn’t take Damon until he was heartworm-free. It took six months, but he was finally cleared for adoption.

  Damon still had an infected leg and was fifteen pounds underweight. Elly and Jim knew his medical bills might mount, but they wanted to help this dog. Elly went and got him. He was home!

  Damon fit in right from the start. He loved everyone, but especially Elly’s young grandson, Jake. The first time Damon saw Jake, he let out a “cry of joy.” They bonded instantly. Not until later did Elly learn that Damon had been trained as a special needs dog for his first family’s little boy.

  Elly and Jim didn’t think the name Damon fit their oversized, underweight, gimpy new family addition. But what should they call him instead? The answer came in the form of a movie. After they’d had the dog a week, they were watching a Walter Brennan film. In the movie, Walter’s character was tall, lean, and had a limp. Since Jim and Elly’s last name is Brennan, the answer was obvious. They would call their new family member Walter.

  Fixing their new dog’s name was easy; fixing his body, not so much. The infection in Walter’s leg moved to his eye. Their vet fought to save the eye with medication, but feared he might lose it. This was about the time I came to visit.

  I remember Walter being sweet, loving, and uncomplaining despite his health problems. We took Walter on short walks to exercise his gimpy leg without straining him too much. His eye infection responded to medication, and the vet thought he could see shadows. He would never get his full vision back, but at least the eye would not have to come out.

  The bad news was that the bills were mounting, despite price breaks from their sympathetic vet. Elly and Jim didn’t flinch. They were committed. Walter had knee surgery and seemed to be recovering well, but then he developed pneumonia. His poor body had been through too much. He fought for two weeks but couldn’t shake the illness. It seemed he would have to be put down.

  Elly took Walter to her vet. There was a chapel area of the clinic where such things were done. Even as she and Walter sat waiting, she struggled with her decision. Suddenly, Walter stood up and headed for the door. She followed to retrieve him. He turned, looked at her, and collapsed in her arms. Walter was gone. Elly believes his last gift was sparing her that agonizing choice.

  In the three months he spent with them, Walter gave Elly and her family many other gifts as well. He was full of love and had patience with everyone. He was very attuned to people and seemed to sense what each one needed. Elly thinks this was because of his special needs training. Walter was also a joyful dog, in spite of his medical problems. He taught his humans what it meant to make the most of each day. He touched many people’s lives—and that didn’t stop with his death.

  Maybe Walter had gone away, but his medical bills hadn’t budged. Elly and Jim were retired, but they had a plan. They applied for jobs as Santa and Mrs. Claus at a nearby Busch Gardens and got hired.

  “Mrs. Claus” was expected to pass out cookies in the seasonal Christmas shows. But Walter had died the Tuesday before Thanksgiving, and the first show was just three days later. Elly was grieving, and she wasn’t sure she could manage this. Sympathetic coworkers got her through. Walter inspired them to uplift her, and she followed his precious example of perseverance in adversity. Jim and Elly brought a smile to many a child’s face, and, in the process, joyfully paid down their dog’s debt.

  Elly and Jim gave sacrificially of themselves for the love of a dog. Jesus gave infinitely more for us. He died an agonizing death to pay the sin debt for every person who ever has or ever will live. Contemplating His sacrifice made Jesus sweat blood in the garden of Gethsemane. But He went through with it anyway. Why? Because He loves us with an incomprehensible love! That’s why the apostle Paul wrote to the Ephesians, “And I pray that you, being rooted and established in love, may have power, together with all the Lord’s holy people, to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ, and to know this love that surpasses knowledge—that you may be filled to the measure of all the fullness of God” (Ephesians 3:17-19).

  Love gives sacrificially. It doesn’t count the cost. It doesn’t even look at the price tag. It delights to give and bless. God loves and gives to us this way, and if we do this for others, we will be like Him and share in His joy!

  Now I (Paul) am ready to visit you for the third time, and I will not be a burden to you, because what I want is not your possessions but you…So I will very gladly spend for you everything I have and expend myself as well (2 Corinthians 12:14-15).

  Consider This:

  Has someone ever loved you sacrificially? What did this involve? What effect did it have on you? Is God calling you to love someone else in this way?

  Squitchey Love

  Being There Says You Care

  No road is long with good company.

  TURKISH PROVERB

  Our daughter Karen works at Disneyland. Last time we were there, I watched a little girl dressed in a princess gown jumping up and down, waving her wand as if to create magic. Her excitement—and the happy giggles and dancing feet of other eager guests—reminded me of how excited our dog Squitchey gets when Karen comes home to see us.

  Squitchey knows before any of us when Karen is arriving. She seems to recognize the particular sound of Karen’s car. When Karen drives up, Squitchey bounds in the doggie door and races through the house to our back entrance. She whines and jumps until Karen comes in. Karen has no choice but to greet her first. Then our other dog, Stuart, gets his hug. Afterwards they all go outside to play ball. Finally Squitchey settles down on Karen’s lap or b
y her side as we all listen to her adventures.

  When Karen came home to Bakersfield for Christmas last year, she got a serious sinus infection. She felt miserable and had to stay with us an extra week. Squitchey rarely left her side. When Karen slept on the couch or sat in the easy chair, Squitchey perched on her lap or curled up next to her. When Karen went to the bathroom, Squitchey followed and waited impatiently by the door.

  After Karen’s fever was gone and she was feeling better, she started to pack to return to Anaheim. Squitchey followed her around the house. When Karen stopped in one place, Squitchey would lie down flat with her ears drooping, realizing her dear human friend would be leaving soon. Finally it was time for Karen to go. She hugged Squitchey good-bye. Squitchey dragged herself slowly out to the backyard and slept most of the afternoon.

  Watching Squitchey’s devotion and commitment to Karen reminds me of my husband’s love for me. Steve and I have been married over 38 years and I can’t imagine us not being by each other’s side. Last Sunday I got sick during church and Steve took me home and stayed with me rather than going to the second service to play his trombone in the praise band. He felt that his place was with me. I am sure that his loving care helped me to heal quickly. That’s the way we have been with each other since we were teenagers—except our commitment has grown deeper over the years.

  Steve is a farmer. One day after a big rain, I wanted to go with him to some rain-soaked fields thick with mud. I was no help—I was just along for the ride and the company. It was good that he had four-wheel drive or we would still be out there! We went mud bogging, sliding all over the road. When we reached our destination, Steve’s pickup truck was covered in mud. It could have been tense, but we had a great time because we were together.