Several weeks ago, almost a month now, our guardian dog came to live with us, the response to a prayer for protection. He's been very determined that we shall be safe in his keeping and goes to great lengths to see his mission through. Just last week I was out in the yard with a neighbor and saw this dog literally stopping cars from passing our house. He purposefully walked in front of a truck and would not let it go forward until my kind neighbor intervened and got the dog back to the yard. He takes his job seriously.
As much as we appreciate this dogged {snicker} determination to protect his adopted family, we've seen it more as a suicide mission than a mission of mercy. All cars, with the exception of those who pass while we are inside our house, will get run after and barked at in his most scolding manner.
Frankly, I didn't know what to do to stop him. I didn't really want to tie him up- how scary would that be for a burgler? The conversation would be something like..."Don't go to that house, they have a mean dog!" "Yeah, but he is tied up. This house is a piece of cake." And it was too hot to shut him in the garage and we don't have a fence yet. I was at a loss. So, I did nothing.
Then today, fateful today. Jacob and I were outside playing as we do most mornings while it's cool. Diesel having gotten tired of harrassing us- when we come out he is in a frenzy of joy that is touchingly annoying- was at his command post watching for bad cars to kill. And then the thud, the shriek of pain and my sweet guardian dog was on the ground while the car that hit him never stopped. Diesel came back to us, holding his leg up and limping slowly, a grim expression on his face. It was the expression I imagine has been on many a soldiers face having bravely faced his duty, done his very best with heart and passion, and then the inevitable wound that comes between the soldier and the end of his mission.
Oh how I cried. It's a moment like this where you suddenly realize that this crazy, stubborn kamikaze dog has rooted deeply in your heart.
Thank heaven for kind neigbhors! I called mine up because I didn't know if I should take the dog to the vet, or if it would be kinder to just end it for Diesel then, with a bullet. The dog rallied, and the leg I thought broken, started to take some weight. By the time I was ready to get him in the car to go to the vets office, he was trying to play tug of war with the towel I was trying to wrap around him! Some people would say it was shock and he wasn't feeling the pain for the adrenaline. I say he's supernatural! An angel dog!
Tonight, a battered and sore doggy is sleeping under his tree. His leg hurts. Maybe a fracture, maybe some small bones in his paw broken, but nonetheless, his post will not be empty tonight.
There is a lesson here friends, if you care to dig deeper a moment? See, I knew that Diesel was playing with fire long before he ever got burned. But I did nothing. I felt it was out of my league, protest would be useless, why bother? How is it that we do this with people we love? We see them playing with fire- whatever it might be..drugs, alcoholol, impurity, whatever...and we don't say anything. We do nothing. And then they get burned and we feel the weight of our silence bearing down on us like a heavy punishment. If you love them, you don't wait until they are burned to take action. No, you put the fire out as soon as you see it flicker. It's bitter tears that come with the knowledge that you could have said something, and didn't.
In time, Diesel will be back to his old self. A frenzy of joy when his family comes home. A welcome light in his eyes. Loving us, for loving him. But now, he will wear a shock collar that will stop him from leaving our yard and if I have to, he will spend his life attached to the old boat tow rope that is his tether now. I love him too much, to let him keep on as he is. I can't be silent any more.
Think about it.
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