It's not a coincidence that GOD and DOG are palindromes of each other. Dogs are the real proof that God loves us.
Holiday lights, snowy walks, and tables full of holiday treats are treasures, but my all-time favorite Christmas gifts are two of my dogs: Chica Bonita, and Alabaster Amos. I also lost the best dog of my life, Scout Eliot, at Christmas exactly one year to the day when we found out we could adopt Alabaster. I believe Albie, as I call him, was sent to us by Scout, who could see that his sister Chica was still grieving.
Chica, a stunning, long-haired black German Shepherd, became ours on Christmas Eve 2015. We adopted her from Pet Refuge, an awesome local organization where you too can find a furever friend. She was to become Scoutie’s companion for the rest of his life. We didn’t know much about Chica’s background when we adopted her. She barely ate and she had a raging case of separation anxiety. On Christmas Day while watching the Bulls-Thunder game, I offered her food from my plate, and with tentative, sidelong glances, she slowly began to understand it was a gift for her.
She’s since become a faithful companion and a fierce protector. I live in a rural area, and I walk 3-4 miles several times a week. Walking a dog in the middle of nowhere isn’t a big deal for men. For women, it requires a lot of forethought. How fast can I run away from that car if it stops, and I am threatened? Where will I run to? Will I have a cell signal should it become necessary to call 911? I fear no evil when Chica’s with me.
I’ve never seen a dog transform from a house pet into a hellhound as rapidly as she did when a pickup truck once slowed to a roll to harass us on a walk. She tripled in size, bared her teeth, and emitted a hellhound bark I’ve only heard twice. I never trained her to do that. Her desire to protect me is instinctual and it was impressive.
In the spring of 2021 when I was at the Texas Mexico boarder volunteering, Chica was admitted to Purdue University Veterinary School with a severe case of sepsis and a mass in her stomach. By calls and texts with my family back home, we learned that she had a 50/50 chance of surviving the surgery, if they could get her infection under control.
I was distraught being so far away with nothing to do but pray for my noble Chica. I went back to my hotel to wait out the surgery and opened my Bible that I have on my Kindle. The passage it opened to was Psalm 23, Shepherd me, O God. That was no coincidence. Chica lived through her surgery and did not have a tumor. She had a piece of a tennis ball lodged in her stomach that became infected. She’s a super chewer as well. I once watched her drag my mother’s walker by one of tennis balls on a non-wheeled leg across my living room floor.
In between Christmas and New Year 2021, we lost Scout, our 14-year-old Yellow Labrador. He was nearly blind and deaf and had so much trouble walking that the only way I could get him outside was to carry his back legs for him in a bath towel slug under his tummy. While making our Christmas dinner, I fed him so many ingredients, knowing it would be the last time I’d get to spoil him. On the last evening of his life, he lay under the Christmas tree so peacefully that it broke my heart to realize it was time to let him go.
After returning home from the vet, my husband and son dug Scout’s grave while Chica laid down next to his body. Scout was wrapped in a Scooby Doo quilt and she leaned into the grave while my boys buried him. As heartbreaking as it was to let him go, I’ll always be grateful to have had Scout in my life. For our family, he was that once-in-a-lifetime dog.
On New Year’s Day we rescued our newest pup, Alabaster Amos. He was a street dog from Indy, found during the blizzard a few days before Christmas. He wasn’t chipped or claimed on any of the lost and found message boards, so my son and I drove to Indy and brought him home. Albie, as we call him, has been both a handful and a healer. Chica wasn’t the only one still grieving Scout’s loss.
A Sheperd-Husky mix, Albie is a willful, active dog. None of that scares me. I raised a colicky baby who screamed through the entire Bulls Jazz finals of 1998. Jordan killed and she still wouldn’t let me watch the games! Albie’s wolfish good looks enable him to get away with his many antics, like counter-surfing, pie thievery, zoomies, and solid, A-game mooching. Albie, Chica, Scout are the gifts that give all year long.
