I have lost track of how many animals I have rescued over the years--it's more than 20 for sure. Most of the time it has been dogs, although there was the occasional kitten and one time there was this duck...but that's a whole other story. We currently have five dogs; three live in the house with us, and two are out on the property. Of those five, four are rescues. I'm not sure I have a favorite, per se, but there are a couple who are just extra special. One is Sophie. Linda and I rescued her back in early March at the market in Zaculeu. She was skin draped on bones, covered in multiple kinds of vermin, and stunk to high heaven. We couldn't just leave her there, so I scooped her up and Linda drove us home. By the next day, Sophie wasn't moving much and we knew she was in trouble. Turns out she had more than one type of intestinal parasite, a skin infection, a fungal infection, and parvo, which is usually a death sentence for a puppy. The vet gave her all kinds of meds and sent her home with a little IV to keep her hydrated. When she wasn't sleeping right on me, she was in her comfy new bed right next to mine. I barely slept for days; I was so sure she would die in the night. I got up every few minutes to make sure she was still breathing and that her scrawny little body was covered and warm. After a couple of weeks and many near-death experiences, Sophie finally recovered. She is now a happy, healthy 65 pound love sponge. I think she remembers all the times she slept on my chest because she still tries to on occasion and has to be reminded that she is no longer a lap dog. We all love this oversized, awkward goofball; she is horribly spoiled.
Imagine my dismay when I walked into the kitchen tonight to find my Sophie eating some nasty thing out of the trash. I gasped and she dropped it, knowing she was in trouble. Then I said, (yes, I talk to my dogs) "You're eating trash?!? You act like you don't have a mother who loves you and feeds you every single day! I even make half your food from scratch, and here you go fishing through the garbage like no one is going to take care of you." The words had barely left my mouth when I felt a twinge of conviction from the Holy Spirit. How many times have I been guilty of this same type of behavior? How many nights have I tossed and turned, filled with anxiety as if I don't have an all-powerful Father who loves me and delights to takes care of me? How many times have I lacked the qualities of Christ-likeness and turned back to old habits and thought patterns, forgetting that I was cleansed from all that stink? (a Murphy paraphrase of 2 Peter 1) How many times have I gone back to living like an orphan even though I was rescued and adopted by a King? The prodigal son had one moment where he "came to himself" (Luke 15:17) and remembered he had a good father; I have had many such moments. I seem to forget a lot. Tonight God used Sophie to remind me to quit acting like I have to fend for myself.
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I'm just going to leave this here as visual proof that I am not the only animal lover in our household and that
Linda and Jessie are not miserable and suffering here in our zoo.
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