Image: my own photo
Stewie, my dog, doesn’t like fireworks.
Not in a I-don’t-like-peas-but-I’ll-eat-them-if-there’s-enough-mashed-potatoes-to-cover-them
sort of don’t like fireworks. More like
the I-don’t-like-velociraptors-figuring-out-how-to-open-doors sort of
way. It’s a deep hatred for Stewie and
it triggers his fight or flight response.
The trouble is, he’s missing the flight part, so my 95lbs black lab mix
runs at the windows and doors, barking his thunderous bark at every boom of a
firework. Oh, and the county in which I
live allows some pretty serious personal fireworks. So for five days I’ve got a freaking out dog
on my hands.
Last year I tried giving him Benadryl. It made him groggy, but didn’t lessen his
freaking out barking. I think he was
more frustrated by the drugged feeling of not being alert, and so fought it
more. So this year I’ve used a multifaceted
plan of helping Stewie cope. We went for
a five mile walk this morning. I haven’t
let him nap all day. I’ve got the
(white) noisy fan in the bathroom going, and classical music at the upper
limits of comfortably loud. He’s had the
maximum recommended dose of doggie herbal calming tablets. He hasn’t had any dinner, and I’m going to
give him a big beef bone to focus on, right when it gets dark and the fireworks
kick into high gear. On the milder
nights leading up to the fourth, I cut up several hot dogs, and every time we
heard a firework, I gave Stewie a piece of hot dog and told him he was a good
boy.
My friends who have kids say that they learn an amazing
amount about God through their children.
Well, I learn a lot about God through Stewie. I’m not saying that he’s like a kid. I am emphatically not Stewie’s mom. I am not a doggie parent, I am a dog
owner. But that said, Stewie is a heck
of a lot more work (and reward) than a hamster, and God really
likes to speak to me in object lessons.
Therefore, Stewie plays a part of my spiritual formation in this stage of
my life. This time, help Stewie with the
fireworks reminded me of something God showed me years ago, and added a layer
of meaning to it.
A number of years ago I was going through a particarlly
rough patch. One night I had a dream that
I was out on a battle field but terribly wounded. God, as a knight on a horse, comes charging
over at the head of a group of calvary, picks me up, and rides out from the
midst of battle into a castle. In the
infirmary, my wounds tended and resting, God’s sitting beside my bed. We’re inside the castle, but in my
semi-delirious state, we can hear the roar of battle, and I’m flinching at
every sound. God is patiently calming
and soothing me.
When I woke up, I read the bible in the morning. At the time I was cycling through the book of
Psalms, reading one or two psalms a day.
That morning, the next psalm was the 18th. Go ahead and read it. The highlights are:
1I love you, O Lord, my strength.
2 The Lord is my rock and my fortress and my deliverer,
my God, my rock, in whom I take refuge,….16 He sent from on high, he took me;
he drew me out of many waters.…19 He brought me out into a broad place;
he rescued me, because he delighted in me.…35 You have given me the shield of your salvation,
and your right hand supported me,
and your gentleness made me great.
The psalm of the day mirrored my dream.
At the time it was a great comfort, that God had rescued me, but was
still patient as He and I worked through the ramifications of what He’d rescued
me from. That instead of being mad or disappointed
that I still had issues to work through, He was patient and understanding of
the process.
Now several years later, helping Stewie deal with the fireworks gives me a whole new
appreciation for how awesome God’s patience with me then (and now) is! With Stewie, I get frustrated that I can’t
explain to him that he’s inside, the fireworks can’t hurt him, that his barking
will do nothing, and it would be best if he’d just chill out and go to
sleep! I feel like saying, “Dog! Will
you just believe me! You’re OK! Calm
down already!” How much more should I
believe God when He tells me not to worry?
Or when He tells me to rest? What
a difference there is between me and God!
He’s not annoyed like I am with Stewie, but patient and gentle.
Oh, and God doesn’t try to bribe me with hot
dogs. :o)
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