image courtesy of

He was unusually active that night. He was skipping, running, and even sliding around on the floor like a complete goofball. I should have known something was up, he was acting like he was on drugs or drunk, certainly not acting in his normal mode of character.

He seemed so happy and appeared to be having so much fun, I must have turned a blind eye, or blind brain… He wanted to sit close to me at dinner, which he doesn’t do much anymore. I even served him myself, his favorite food to boot.

I actually enjoyed the closeness and his desire to be close to me. It’s no surprise to anyone in the family that he and I have had our difficulties; his teenage years were an absolute nightmare. He has grown up and has become more settled, a little more comfortable in his own skin you might say.

After a nice evening of enjoying everyone’s company, he lay down in the family room and rested as my wife and I talked. I could see he was dozing on and off, opening his eyes every so often. It seemed, in comfort though, not in aggravation.

I got up to get something. On my way back to my chair, as I was passing by where he was resting, I reached out and patted him on the back. My intention was to show a man to man type of affection, after all, we had a nice evening and I felt close to him.

I don’t know what it was, but he snapped! I mean a full blown emotional into physical snapping! The little jerk did it! After all I’d done and sacrificed for him he did it… The unthinkable…

He bit the hand that feeds him! It wasn’t a full blown bite, but it was delivered with growls and all. I grabbed our dog Larry by the back of his collar and led him out the back door…

My pal went Cujo on me! We’ve been through a lot, but he crossed the barrier of what a man’s best friend should. He bit the proverbial hand… I was stunned, I’d even sneaked him some special jerky treats behind Lola’s back that night. (Our other dog). I’d rubbed his head and scratched his belly and this is what I got in return?

I even talked to him all night long, “What is your major malfunction Private Lar”?!!! He loves that one even more than, “Where’s your ball”?  I didn’t let Cujo back into the house the rest of the night. Most of the time I’m a little smarter than Larry, not all of the time, but most of the time.

I never raised a hand to my dad as a kid. I’ve also tried to never raise a fist physically or mentally toward my Father in heaven. I’m not saying I’ve been completely obedient, that would be an understatement, but I’ve tried to stay on the side of respect or sanity.

I marvel in disbelief and wonder when I hear people raise up in spirit against God Almighty.

I wonder how I’d feel if I could speak life into existence, then sustain the atmosphere that provides sustenance to something about the size of a small ant then have that ant that I created, loved, and sustained cuss me or bite me?

I’m not God, I can’t do any of those things, I don’t even know my heart compared to the One who created it.

Of all the dumb, reckless, fearless, brave, and courageous things I’ve ever done, I’ve never had the nerve, guts, or heart to question the God that works all things together for His good will. My insanity goes only so far…

I know other Christians who have the relationship with God to be able to test Him in these matters. It might be different for all of us.

I can’t say for sure what’s always the best thing for my dog Larry, only God knows. Of course, He is perfect.

Not being perfect and all, it’s occurred to me, maybe I shouldn’t call my dog Larry, “Private.”

Or ask him what his major malfunction is?