I helped April take Abby to the vet yesterday to be spayed. Abby is their "little" boxer. Imagine what a funny sight to see a boxer almost as big as a grown woman, wiggling around and wearing a specially made doggie diaper to catch all the dreaded drips that indicate she is in her first heat. Now imagine said boxer in a tiny Toyota, in the back seat, squeezing herself into Cailyn's carseat. Very funny start to the day.
Abby was very excited to be going somewhere - anywhere. When we arrived I noticed a cat lolling around the parking lot, so I made sure to get a good grip on Abby's leash. She never saw that cat, but imagine her joy when one of the workers inside the vet's office was seated on the floor in front of a cage feeding … you guessed it … a cat. Frenzied whining, stifled barking, anguished straining at the leash. Thankfully they were expecting us, so we hid Abby behind a counter out of eyesight of that feline temptress. And she was just beginning to calm down a bit when the front door opened and strutting in like the prince of the animal kingdom I'm sure he thought he was came a tiny little pug. And all bets were off in the chance to keep Abby calm department. That little tidbit would have been just the right size for a snack, and Abby had been on the required no-food-since-midnight fast. But honestly, it didn't appear that Abby wanted a snack just then. She wanted a playmate. And the fact that this particular potential playmate was about the size of a softball made it even more exciting. Abby ignored all boundaries of good manners and indoor voices. She began a barking frenzy to accompany her futile attempts at tail-wagging that became rear-end wagging that in turn became serious tugging at the meager attempts at restraint by one rheumatoid arthritis afflicted senior and a young veterinary assistant who by now had made her appearance to collect Abby and show her to her room for the day. The vet lady was finally successful in dragging her away and closing the door, thus erasing one temptation and, I'm sure, revealing a myriad more behind those closed doors. April said that's the most complete vocal rendition she has ever heard come out of Abby's mouth.
The whole thing reminded me of an experience I had in college long ago. We were in one of those larger classes that looks more like an auditorium. The professor asked for prayer requests before we got started (the class was in the theology building on the Houston Baptist College campus, so prayer was not only acceptable, but expected). One fellow raised his hand, and when recognized, stood up to deliver his concern. In a real country twang that rivals that judge on The Voice, he delivered his plea. "I could shore use y'all's prayers around mah house this week. See I done took my wife (pronounced why-ef) in to git spaded and thangs ain't gonna be too fun around there." The professor was stunned. The silence lasted only until the first snicker snuck forth from somewhere near where I was sitting. Others followed. Pretty soon even the prof shook his head and chuckled. I guess it does shake up the whole household when someone gets spaded. Hang in there, Abby.
Hebrews 8:11-12 says, "No longer will a man teach his neighbor, or a man his brother, saying, 'Know the Lord,' because they will all know me, from the least of them to the greatest. For I will forgive their wickedness and will remember their sins no more."
Father, bring on that time. Galveston needs it. Amen.
No comments:
Post a Comment