The Price of a Dog

Other bulldogs have come to us, each with a story.

A man known to my son called and said he wanted to sell an Olde English Bulldogge he owned . That would give him the rest of the money he needed to buy a motorcycle he had his eye on. My son paid him and the bulldog came to us. We renamed her Wiggles because she never stopped moving, constantly wiggling and wriggling her compact body, dancing around in a semi-circle we referred to as her “comma dance”.

A few weeks later, my son learned that the man had been killed in a one-vehicle motorcycle accident while riding the very motorcycle he had dreamed of and had purchased with the money he received for Wiggles.

That struck me as incredibly sad. The event raised imponderables, questions that rear their heads  in my head at such times. What if Wiggles’ previous owner had waited? What if he had kept Wiggles? He still may have suffered the accident. Or he may never have bought the motorcycle. Wiggles may have come to us anyway. I took note of the circumstances. I have started doing that more often. It is part of being awake. Life in all of its stages , including death, revolves around us continually

So Wiggles had a home with us, but her stare always has a question mark in it, as though she is wondering what happened to that man who cared for her before and just exactly who are these people she is with now.

I have had dogs throughout my life, but I don’t remember staring into their eyes as much as I have with these dogs and I don’t remember having them stare back into mine. Now I spend time looking into the eyes of bulldogs. It develops my patience with them and theirs with me.

I have loved dogs since I was a child, even during those times when I did not have one. Among them were the buff-colored Cocker Spaniels, Brandy and Buffy, a loyal miniature black poodle named MeMe, and Susie, the wonderful Cardigan Welsh Corgi. I enjoyed their company. I hope they enjoyed mine. But even though I enjoyed them, I never really gave dogs credit for their value. I guess I never really gave God credit for creating them.

I keep circling back to the same conclusion. God can use anything to get through to a stultified mind, to a sleepwalker stumbling through a superficial life. He has used these dogs, Stella and Wiggles. I didn’t know that’s what He was doing at the time and I didn’t know that more stories were coming. It’s best that way.

©H.J. Hill 2016 All Rights Reserved.

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