Sleepless night

Ah, love it when things are so clearly going awry. For example, I woke this morning at 1:30. That's not terribly unusual. I wake during most nights for an, uh, pit stop on the road to dryness. But this was different. I'm STILL awake at 6:33 a.m.

The question is why? When this happens, my dear Mary almost always asks: "Is something bothering you? Are you worried about something?" You know, things along those lines.

I have a friend who told me that when he is awakened during the night, he always asks God, "What do you want from me this time, Lord?"

While it is true that bills are a problem, frustration always mounts when church attendance isn't where one's goals were and such as that, but it is equally true I didn't think of any of that during the sleepless night.

So, what was it?

It was a dog. I've found myself looking at shelters lately, looking at dogs that look like my dear departed Frankie. Ironically, in looking at the dachshund breed, I come across many, many others. All in cages. All with the eyes of pain, suffering, loneliness, desire. I can't help but think "how can people put so many of these dogs out?" I have no answers.

In a cruel world that kills fetuses, I guess it is only logical that dogs and cats and other animals are mere toys to be thrown away when it suits the person doing the throwing. But my goodness it tears up my heart.

I saw this dog, who I might claim today, named Sissy. She fairly recently had puppies, which is a perilous thing at shelters. For some reason they don't want birthing dogs there. She's a full-blooded dachshund, red and white not black as was Frankie (who died in January while we were in Israel of cancer that we knew nothing about before it was too late). But her ears are the dachshund alert looking, pointed to the heavens as if she knows something we do not, and she's got that fascinating dachshund smile.

And unless someone claims her in some unknown time period, I guess she faces the death chamber.

I was talking about this at a Bible Study last night and a wonderful friend named Josh said he would pay half the adoption fee if I would go pick up Sissy and bring her home. I said I would think about it. I didn't' know or realize that would constitute half my night.

What can we do about this insane problem of people giving up dogs for reasons that border on lunacy? They have to move. They have too many. The economy is belly up so there will be no more belly rubs. They got to old. They got sick.

You name it.

And their dogs wait for their master to return with longing, puzzled eyes.

I've always thought that dogs most represent or give evidence of God's mercy and grace more than anything. They forgive all evils. They never give up hope. They love completely unconditionally.

Oh, but that I could go to a local shelter and bring them all home. Oh, but that I could find homes for every dog (and cat and rabbit and ferret and on and on). I know I can't, but goodness that keeps my eyes open on a sultry September night.