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The Lost Hound Dog

By Guy K. Henry

www.guyhenry.com

The sun was lowering behind the mountains as I sat on my front steps having a conversation with my new friend. My friend was probably not what you expect. He was a hound dog.

I rubbed him behind his ears, which pleased him greatly. When I'd stop he'd make his dark eyes get larger. They'd ask, "Please, don't stop."

I had a bigger problem to be concerned with. I knew that this beautiful dog was homeless. I had seen him wandering around the neighborhood for a few weeks. Today was the first time I noticed him on my side of the busy road.

"I already have two dogs," I told my quiet friend. "I can't take care of three dogs!"

As if he understood, he sauntered back towards the road. A tear fell from my eye as he approached the dangerous road.

I couldn't stand it. "Come back here hound dog!" I called. Those must have been the words he had been waiting before because he happily trotted back to me.

I rubbed his ears some more. My new friend was satisfied. After a while I tried to explain the situation to him. "If it were up to me, I'd adopt you!" I then told him about my two dogs, Peanut and Roscoe. "They won't allow me to have any more family members."

He looked at me with sad eyes. "It's OK, I'll be fine," he seemed to say. With that he started up my driveway.

As he came within feet of the road a tractor-trailer truck roared past, causing my friend to jump backwards.

"Come back here!" I called, wiping a tear from my eye.

The slim hound dog happily obeyed my voice. I rubbed his big ears some more.

I believe that our minds were headed in two different directions. I was worried about my friend's long-term housing problem. He was only worried about when I'd stop rubbing his ears.

Tears came back to my eyes. "I'm so sorry…" I said as I rose to my feet. I turned my back and reached out for the doorknob. I closed my eyes, and when I did I imagined him standing scared on the yellow line in the highway, traffic speeding by him. I spun around to call him back. I didn't need to call him, as he was sitting, tail wagging, where I had left him. It seemed as though he was smiling. Perhaps he found my indecision amusing.

"I will find you a home, " I promised him. I think he understood as I made him a place with blankets. He ate a total of three plates of food. I gave him water, and a night-light. I rubbed his ears some more. He seemed pleased with the arrangements.

The next morning I made up a poster with his picture on it. I told my friends at the nearby restaurant that we needed to find this fellow a home.

A few people seemed interested. For a time it seemed that I would pick up the phone and be greeted by, "I'd like to take that dog!"

Sadly, that call didn't come. The days turned into a week. I replaced the posters when they blew off of the telephone poles.

Three weeks later I still didn't have a permanent home for him. I was getting worried as the cold weather was quickly arriving.

One morning, after a particularly cold night, I brought the hound dog his breakfast. I had decided to talk with him about the local humane shelter. I rounded the corner, and my heart sank. His leash lay on the ground, his collar at the end of it, but no sign of my friend. I realized then how attached I'd become.

Sadly I went inside to tell Peanut and Roscoe the bad news. They took it better than I did. All that day and night I called out for him. "Hound dog! Hound Dog!" I feared that something awful had happened to him.

Three o'clock the next afternoon my two dogs were outside, barking at the traffic. They carried on for a time, and then went silent. My ears perked up. Surely they hadn't run out of things to bark at. Between the UPS truck, kittens, and children playing basketball across the street, they should have had plenty to bark at. I went to check on them. As soon as I stepped out the front door, I saw Peanut and Roscoe licking Hound Dog. "You're back!" I exclaimed as I went to hug him.

After a quick celebration, I got serious and said to him, "I am not being fair to you. It is getting too cold for you to stay outside." I looked him over and repeated my promise to him, "I am going to find you a home!"

All three dogs gave me puzzled looks as I scurried around gathering supplies. I made posters, bigger posters than before. I grabbed a chair and a leash and led Hound Dog to the edge of the highway. I sat down in the chair, with Hound Dog by my side. Around his neck I hung a sign that said, "PLEASE ADOPT ME!"

The evening traffic sped by. People looked at both of us with all manner of expressions. I answered every surprised driver with a big smile.

Just a little over a half an hour later a vehicle pulled into my driveway. Out of it crawled a mother, father and a little boy.

I whispered to Hound Dog, "Strut your stuff mister!"

He did. The family fell in love with him, and agreed to give him a home. As he jumped into the SUV, I told him that I'd miss him. He turned and looked straight into my eyes. We connected one last time. I could have sworn I heard him say, "I love you, Thanks."

Later I wondered why I hadn't thought of sitting by the roadside earlier. Perhaps I lacked resolve. Perhaps I wasn't as serious as I needed to be about my promise to Hound Dog.

It was easy to promise Hound Dog that I'd find him a home. It was hard to take the needed steps to accomplish that. If Hound Dog had questioned my sincerity, I'd have come up short. I was surprised how easy it was to fulfill my promise once I got serious about it.

Hound Dog taught me something. Sometimes I have good intentions, but I don't do the things necessary to make them happen.

Hound Dog made me think about the way I share the good news that Jesus has made a way for me to enter heaven. I know that Jesus has made it possible for my sin to be erased, but am I serious about sharing that? Do I come up short? Are my attempts half-hearted?

I can talk about witnessing. I can hear others talk about witnessing. But, until I go out into the world and start sharing, no one is going to decide to trust Jesus with their sin problem. A hundred pounds of good intentions will certainly go unnoticed. A few words can change the direction of a precious soul.

Hound Dog,

            I love you too. Thanks.

Matthew 28:19-20 (19) Go ye therefore, and teach all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost: (20) Teaching them to observe all things whatsoever I have commanded you: and, lo, I am with you alway, even unto the end of the world. Amen.

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