A Tale of Three Dogs

   This portion of a verse out of Psalm 31, stood out to me this morning:

   "My times are in your hand;"

   I first thought of the old clock towers that grace many of the old courthouses that we had visited over the past months, and I knew I could draw some illustrations from those.

   But then, as I walked, I stopped and talked to a former neighbor as he walked his dog. I chided him for leaving his other dog at home, and only bringing one on this walking tour, but he gently and softly informed me that they had been forced to put the other part of that pair to sleep a couple of days previously. Chagrined, I politely asked about the second dog, and he related the trauma of having to put him down because of his medical problems.

   This all struck a chord in me because Mayre had, just the previous evening, had a conversation with a close friend who had done the same thing while we were on our trip north last weekend.

   Both parties had loved their pooches, and the dogs were like children of the family. Both were still grieving, and I felt bad for them in their trials.

   All of that reminded me of an incident many years ago, after our last son had gone off to college. We had a little dog that developed a back problem and could hardly get around, and it was painful for us to watch her try. We decided that, if the vet could not do anything to help the situation, we would have to put her down. After I went off to work the next day, Mayre took Corky to the vet and learned that she could not be helped. The vet asked if she wanted him to put her down, and, as the dog looked up at her with those big brown trusting eyes, she quietly told him that I would be along after work to let him know what we wanted to do. She could not even tell him.

   I went by, not being brave enough to even look at the dog, just told him to go ahead and put her to sleep, paid the bill and went home.

   Were the times of those three little dogs in our hands?

   What about the times of the three owners? Who controls those?

   The Psalmist wrote "My times are in Your hands", and I know that to be true. God, who is not bound by time or space, knows my length of days, I don't.

   We grieve when a pet or a person dies, how much more does God grieve when we live for ourselves and not use our times to honor Him.

   The grieving is real in both cases, only the importance varies.