We recently took our big white dog Hektor camping. He is getting on up there in years and it had been some time since he traveled anywhere farther than a local walk across the mesa or a stroll along the Rio Grande.

  Hektor was purchased as a pup, but in many ways I view him as a rescue dog. He was 16 weeks old when we delivered him from bondage. He was the sole remaining pup from a large litter. Bred by a hunter with no breeding experience, Hektor was the runt of his litter and most likely had to hustle for food. He had developed a small bald spot on his body and his breeder decided that dipping him in gasoline would alleviate the problem. When my son and I arrived to pick him up he had been washed spotless clean of the mud that had covered him, the kennel where he had been living was basically a massive mud puddle where he had been standing in water a few inches deep. As we talked to the breeders and paid the necessary monies I observed the children “disciplining” the little pup with a slap across the face. So needless to say I think if Hektor could speak he would consider himself to have been rescued.

  From the time we got him, despite a lot of hard work trying to socialize him he has always been my nervous pup. He worries about breakfast, he worries about dinner, he worries about new places and new people and he just doesn’t care much for strangers or strange places.

  Observing him over the course of the three day camping trip I pondered the similarities between myself and Hektor as compared to myself and God.

  Hektor worships me, he believes that I am, he wants desperately to have total faith and trust in me. For the most part he does. With coaching I can get him to do new things, go new places and even allow strangers to examine him and care for him……but he does not rest in that trust. There is always a little piece of him that doubts. Will it really be okay? Will I really get my breakfast this morning? Is it really true that I do not need to fear this new thing? Is it really true that I do not need to attack this scary thing myself? Can I really rely on her to take care of me? Can I really rest in her presence assured that no harm will come?

  As I pondered these things, I heard the still small voice in my soul say “yes child, you do have a lot in common with the big white dog.”

  You see, I worship Jesus Christ, I love Him. Sometimes just thinking about what He has done for me brings tears to my eyes. I desire to follow Him ANYWHERE, to do ANYTHING that He asks me to do. I believe that HE IS! He is EVERYTHING! There is nothing above Him, nothing that comes close to Him. I believe all these things and yet sometimes I still fret.

 It is my desire to walk with Him, wherever He might take me, be it the normal everyday places that I am comfortable with, or some new and frightening place to which I have never been. Yet I expect should that be the call that I will be like my big white dog, happy to be with Him, excited that He is taking me somewhere, but a little anxious about where we are going…….do they serve breakfast there?

 In all seriousness, Christ calls us to follow Him, to do so willingly and in full trust of His ability to provide. Sometimes the places He calls us and the tasks He calls us to are scary, in some cases even life threatening. But we know, we can have full assurance that whatever comes, He is right there with us, and He will provide all that we need.

   Hektor had his anxious moments, those moments when he was not real sure if I had all this, not real sure that he was safe and could relax, but when he finally decided to trust me in these things he had peace and was content to just be with us and relax in our care.

  Hektor was blessed in his journey with me. He got extra breakfast, extra dinner, he hiked at a leisurely pace in cool mountain air, he slept beside swift flowing mountain creeks, he got to sleep by my side in the tent and all in all he enjoyed his trip. Hopefully he learned to trust me just a little more.  Hopefully I can learn from him to trust my Master fully. To have no anxiety about tomorrow, to not worry about what we will eat, or what we will wear, or what choices others we love might be making or not making.

 Lord, help me trust You in all things, still my anxious heart, calm my restless worried spirit. Help me to rest in the knowledge that wherever I might be led You are right there beside me, and You are my Rock of refuge, there is nothing that I need fear.

 do not be anxious about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God.

Jesus spoke to the people once more and said, "I am the light of the world. If you follow me, you won't have to walk in darkness, because you will have the light that leads to life."

“The LORD is my rock, and my fortress, and my deliverer; my God, my strength, in whom I will trust; my buckler, and the horn of my salvation, and my high tower.”

“Every word of God is pure: he is a shield unto them that put their trust in him.”

“Thou wilt keep him in perfect peace, whose mind is stayed on thee: because he trusteth in thee.”

Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and do not lean on your own understanding. In all your ways acknowledge him,
    and he will make straight your paths.

 A Great Heart Goes Silent

   On the 26^th day of May, in the year of our Lord 2015, my beloved Miss Keeter, Warrior Princess, Queen of the Pack, passed from this life.

  How does one put words to something for which there really are no words? This is my pathetic attempt to honor the life and death of my bestest (misspelling is intentional) girl, my Miss Keeter, my friend.

 She came to me four years ago, with bones sticking out all over, such a tall and majestic dog, but so skinny. Her toenails were black and soft, and merely striking them against something caused them to fall off and bleed. She lost a few.  She had been starved, she had been mistreated, she had been beaten, and we know this because when she first came to us, if you waved your hand, or a kitchen spoon, or moved in any manner that she perceived as threatening, she would crouch low upon the ground and pee.

 Despite the terrible background, she was full of a zest for life, and a sure and solid hope that love was possible. Oh how she loved, she would lean in close and groan at the very joy of having her body pressed against yours, and the slightest word of praise caused her to dance with joy, she danced and she leapt and glasses flew from tables, and knickknacks crashed to the floor, and even people stumbled and fell to her great dance.

 My task was to foster her, to get her healthy and to teach her manners, for she had no knowledge of anything. The only word she truly understood was no, and this word caused her to crouch low, and tremble. It was a word that she has seldom heard over the course of the last four years, a word not needed, for she lived to please, and teaching her manners was very easy. I obviously failed with the foster part, and could not bear to give her up.

 She came to me during hard times. Both my sons were having hard times, times that despite all my prayers and all my attempts to help, just were not changing, sometimes becoming worse, and my husband had been laid off, and was working out of state to make ends meet. I really needed to make a difference for something. And along came Miss Keeter. Saving her was an honor, a privilege and over these past four years she has taught me more than any other dog, more than I ever thought possible of a dog to teach.

  Keeter taught me about faith, about hope, about love, about dancing in the rain, about worship, about the joy of a moment, about the power of a simple word of praise, she taught me about tenacity, and that the grit and tenacity required to hold down a 300lb pig can also be useful in other circumstances, and that no matter what, you never give up, you never let go,  you keep moving forward, pushing through, and if you knock a few glasses over, or break a favored knickknack, it’s really no big deal. Many journal writings of mine mention “the big white dog” as do several of my blog posts, some just refer to the joy that she brought to me, the feel of her strong head under my hand as we walked, the laughter at her joyful antics, and some detail the profound things that she taught me, about life, about God and about living.

 Her heart just cannot be described, it was huge, it was fierce, and it was beautiful.  She was my dog, although she loved everyone in the family, she gravitated to me, and there was only one brief period where this was not so. Our soldier son came home from war, came home with the heavy burdens that war can place upon the soul. As a family we labored hard to show him love, to show him grace, to help him come home, but in all outward appearances this was to no avail, we could not break through the barriers that were there. But Miss Keeter did, she gravitated to him, she would sit by his side, at the garage door, him smoking and her just sitting there with him, hanging out, leaning into him. She too had known suffering and violence, of a different kind, but still painful, and I think she sensed the need in him, to just have someone sit, and share the pain, without expectations, without fear and worry and anxiety, but to just sit with him. It is my belief that she is the first of our family to connect with the soul of the warrior who came home. For that act alone she will ever have my gratitude.

  I am grateful for the four years we had, and I am trying hard not to be bitter toward those who mistreated her, starved her during formative years causing the very issues that in the end took her life. My youngest son said yesterday that had they not done the things they had done, we would never have had the joy of her in our lives. So I guess that is a lesson for us all in how God can use the awful things and make something beautiful.

 My Miss Keeter was brave; she endured the pain of the growing gaps in her spine with grace and tenacity. She never cried, it just kept getting harder and harder for her to get up. She would still charge full speed ahead at any perceived threat, and then stumble and limp back to her bed once the threat had been met.  She lived to please, in the good times, just the sound of her name would bring her leaping, entire body wiggling in joy at the summons, but toward the end, her tail would gently thump, I think even that hurt, and she would look at me with sorrow filled eyes, and gradually, with my coaching and my praise, she would slowly rise, taking faltering steps, front legs bearing most of the weight, and she would make her way to me. On top of all this, she lost her sight, and was pretty much blind. I realized that she would never give up entirely, that she would endure the pain for as long as I kept asking her to endure it, and that is when I realized that I could not ask this of her anymore. It was time. The medicine was not working anymore, and it was tearing up her stomach, causing her to vomit blood and messing up her appetite. It was time for me to say enough, it’s okay my girl, you can go in peace.

 For her last day, I gave her extra pain pills, and we loaded her up in the car, it was hard for her to get in the car, but once again with coaching she did as I asked and heaved herself in, with as much assistance as I could offer her 100 lb. body. At first my intention was to take her to a park, where there is a peaceful fountain, a place where I sat many times, but then I realized that this was my place, where was her place? What was her joy? So we went out on the mesa, and we walked, she rooted for the kangaroo rats and prairie dogs, flushed the quail and the jackrabbits. I wished for her sight back, as I watched huge jackrabbits running before her, she could smell them, but she could not see them. Even so, you could see some of the old Keeter come back, her drive to hunt, her joy in the smells, her tenacity as she crashed through the cactus and the thorns, oblivious to the pain. She took joy in crashing through the middle of a giant puddle, and it was good to see her with mud spattered legs again.

 We sat at the car for a bit, and I gazed at the beautiful view, and scratched her head and ears. We had some water and we headed down the hill to the vet’s office. We were early for our appointment, so we sat under a beautiful tree, in the thick green grass, and we rested and enjoyed each other’s company. I praised her and loved her, scratched her ears and kissed her and fed her lots of cheese and fatty bacon. She would try and sit, but you could tell sitting was painful but she was able to lie down and rest.  Too soon it was time, and we walked inside. Tears filled my eyes as I looked into one of the rooms, with door slightly ajar, and saw the blanket on the floor. I knew that was for us. Sure enough we were escorted to that room, and my brave Miss Keeter went straight to that blanket, plopped herself down and stretched out her legs.  I sat with her, and told her how incredibly awesome she was. I fed her bacon and cheese as they made their preparations.  She passed with her great head in my lap, as I scratched her ears, and fed her cheese. She passed in peace.

 On 5/26/15, at approximately 3:30 PM. A great heart went still and I was left with silence.  

“There are various places within which a dog may be buried. We are thinking now of a Dogo Argentino named Keeter, whose coat was as white as snow, and who, so far as we are aware, never entertained a mean or an unworthy thought, despite the mistreatment she received at the hands of humans. She will be laid to rest in our back yard, by a flowering bush, overlooking her domain.

  Beneath a cherry tree, or an apple, or any flowering shrub of the garden, is an excellent place to bury a good dog. Beneath such trees, such shrubs, she slept in the drowsy summer, or gnawed at a flavorous bone, or lifted head to challenge some strange intruder. These are good places, in life or in death. Yet it is a small matter, and it touches sentiment more than anything else.

For if the dog be well remembered, if sometimes she leaps through your dreams actual as in life, eyes kindling, questing, asking, laughing, begging, it matters not at all where that dog sleeps at long and at last. On a hill where the wind is unrebuked and the trees are bent to its force, or beside a stream she knew in puppyhood, or somewhere in the flatness of a pasture land, where most exhilarating cattle graze. It is all one to the dog, and all one to you, and nothing is gained, and nothing lost -- if memory lives. But there is one best place to bury a dog. One place that is best of all.

If you bury her in this spot, the secret of which you must already have, she will come to you when you call -- come to you over the grim, dim frontiers of death, and down the well-remembered path, and to your side again. And though you call a dozen living dogs to heel they should not growl at her, nor resent her coming, for she is yours and she belongs there.

People may scoff at you, who see no lightest blade of grass bent by her footfall, who hear no whimper pitched too fine for mere audition, people who may never really have had a dog. Smile at them then, for you shall know something that is hidden from them, and which is well worth the knowing.

The one best place to bury a good dog is in the heart of her person.

(Original poem by Ben Hur Lampman, edited for our dear Miss Keeter)

One of my blog posts about the things she taught me:

http://allisgrace.posthaven.com/taught-wisdom-by-a-dog

And here is a beautiful video telling all of what a dog can be to it's human, if the human will only allow it to take place.

 So God Made a Dog

1/2/2016 This morning I watched a video of my Keeter girl as she danced around the living room, every fiber of her being expressing joy in the moment. I miss her a lot.

   I also wanted to add this one photo to her memorial. It was sent to me by a dear friend. Living here in Albuquerque we often have hot air balloons flying over our house and they are almost always visible in the sky over the city. My Keeter girl HATED the balloons. She saw this as a threat and before she lost her sight she would spot them floating in the sky and she would shout out her defiance to them. This beautiful photo shows hot air balloons floating above the clouds, and one of the clouds to the left of the photo looks like a large white dog. Get em Keeter girl!

 This dog is one of the special ones. All that know me know I love all dogs, and that I love the three that reside at my house and are part of my family. But every now and again there comes along one that is special. This one is one of the special ones.

 She is not much to look at, and any enthusiast of her breed would be quick to point out all her many faults. She looks like a Great Dane, with the head of a Boxer, her backend is higher than her front end, her legs and toes are all gangly and crooked, and she has the worst under bite I have ever seen in a dog. No she’s not much to look at…….but neither am I. She and I have a bond, and she is dear to my heart.

 She has known sorrow in her life, she has suffered, she has known days where there was no love, no breakfast and no dinner.  She first came to us, skinny, browbeaten, with rotten toe nails that fell off her feet if she knocked them against something…….but despite it all, she had a huge heart and all it needed was a little love for it to blossom. She loves big, one must be careful speaking to her as if there is any excitement in your voice she will burst into dance, her entire body wagging, and she will leap with joy, and furniture and plants and drinks on tables will go flying. She loves big.

 As I sit here praying, and as my gaze shifts from the bright blue sky, to the hazel eyes of the big white dog at my feet, I think of my Lord, and how much this big white dog is teaching me about worship. I want to be like her, I want to be content to sit at His feet and gaze upon Him, I want to listen attentively for the sound of His voice, I want to please Him, I want to walk with Him, commune with Him, to live every moment of my existence fully aware of His presence with me. When He speaks I want to be so full of joy at the sound of His voice that I cannot contain myself, bursting into dance, with no thought or worry as to whether I have the rhythm required for such antics.

 I call her to me, as I get ready to leave the house for work, her head in my lap I gently rub her ears and tell her she is good and that I love her. I tell her everything is going to be okay, and she trusts me, she stands sure upon my every word, she looks at me with eyes that say, “Just say the word, and I will lie right down and die for you, if that is what makes you happy”. I truly believe she would, were she able to understand such a request. I want to hold and keep that kind of faith in Jesus, a faith so certain that if he simply says “lay right down and die”, I would do it willingly, gladly and with a song on my lips.

 The older I get, the more I realize that this world is full of instruction, if we only pause and look. Creation really does cry out “there is a God, come and know Him!”   The heavens declare Him, the mountains declare Him, the trees declare Him, and the creatures declare Him!  I look upon this big white dog, and her ungainly body, her bulldog face, her trusting eyes….and I see the hand of our Creator God.

““Lord, we thank you for our dogs — your simple gift to us. Open us to what they teach. We thank you for the grateful exuberance of our dogs.

“We thank you for the way they bound across the hills, splash in the waters, chew on sticks, and roll in the dewy grass. Teach us, every day, to say our own ‘thank you’ with every fiber of our being, for the wondrous works of your creation.

“We thank you, Lord, for the honest, direct loyalty of our dogs. We thank you for the wag of their tails and the offer of a cuddle for friend and stranger alike, the way they make people . . . into our neighbors, the way they regard not body type, color of hair, or color of skin. We thank you for the easy way they forgive faults — the way they love us, not because we can love back, but because of our need for love. . . .” (http://www.patheos.com/blogs/geneveith/2013/04/a-prayer-for-dogs/)

“I look up and I see God, I look down and see my dog.
Simple spelling G O D, same word backwards, D O G.
They would stay with me all day. I'm the one who walks away.
But both of them just wait for me, and dance at my return with glee.
Both love me no matter what - divine God and canine mutt.
I take it hard each time I fail, but God forgives, dog wags his tail.
God thought up and made the dog, dog reflects a part of God.
I've seen love from both sides now, it's everywhere, amen, bow wow.
I look up and I see God, I look down and see my dog.
And in my human frailty...I can't match their love for me. “ (God and Dog, by Wendy Francisco)

  The above are lyrics to the song “God and Dog”, but few are aware of the story behind that video and song.  The below link tells the story and also has links to the video. Enjoy.

http://www.guideposts.org/pets/story-behind-god-and-dog-youtube-video

 I have seen many photos of him, froliking in the snow with his buddy Sienna. He is such a beautiful boy.

 Go with God Chief, you were a good boy, you did what you were created to do, you loved your humans, loved your friends, loved the snow and the cold and a good frolic, you loved........and you did it well. Run now, with the Great Shepherd.

   Yesterday, exact time unknown, a dog passed from this world, and another was seriously injured. Most likely this tragedy was one among thousands and thousands that occurred.

People died yesterday, some of them in horrible ways.

Dogs died yesterday, some of them in horrible ways.

   But yesterday, exact time unknown a much loved dog passed from this world and another much loved dog was seriously injured.

   I did not know this dog, have never sat on a couch with her, never petted her never spoke her name, yet she was dear to me. I have viewed a hundred photos of her in my Facebook feed; have Liked a few here and there when I have the time to take notice.  Almost always in these photos of this dog, and the one injured, were one or two little girls. So often were these two young ladies in the photos with these two dogs that I had to spend some time going through all these photos to even find one that was just the dogs.

Just as I have never met these two dogs, I have never met these two little girls who love them, but the various photos I have seen over time; clearly show the great love that exists between these little humans and their canine friends. Photos of them curled in bed, photos of them sleeping on couches, photos with laughing child faces and happy content canine ones. Beautiful photos, yet the sort that slip past you for the most part……until a day like today, a day when you know one dog has died and the other is fighting to survive her injuries, and you know that two little girls are heartbroken….you know that their mom, who also loved these two dogs, is dying inside, for the loss of the dog and the sorrow of watching her two little girls deal with this tragedy.

Who knows what happened. Somehow a door was open and the two dogs went on an adventure, as dogs are prone to do. Perhaps it was something else entirely, as the following letter was posted to Facebook today.....

"Girls I got your names from another angel friend. I understand you are the loving earth friends of Gigi and Livy Grace, my earth angel dogs. I have a serious problem here in heaven and I am hoping you will understand. I am the angel that helps animals as they come to heaven. Last week I had several special dogs that preformed miracles and saved their forever friends on earth. Rex climbed into a burning building and saved two children. His injuries were so severe I called him home to heaven. Oscar and Buster were protecting soldiers and after saving their lives, they both were called to heaven. I have lots of things that have happened and I can't find enough dog angels to help me with these four pawed heroes. I have heard such wonderful things about Gigi and Livy Grace and I understand how much you love them. They both have told me so much about you! I stopped by yesterday to speak with you girls and your Mom and Dad. I knocked on your door but no one answered. I opened the door a little bit to talk to Gigi and Livy Grace. I told them how much I needed them to help me out and let them know I would wait to hear from them. Gigi thought about it and said she would help. Livy Grace has not made a decision yet. If you girls would please say a prayer for Gigi, she is sitting here in heaven beside Oscar and helping him so much. Thank you both for being such good friends of Gigi on earth. She says to tell you she will love you forever and to pray for her as she will be Oscars helping angel. She wants you to pray for Oscar’s soldier. His name is Smitty and he is having a hard time. God loves you and so do all the animal angels. I'll check in with Livy Grace and see what she wants to do later. Take care earth angels and lover of animals......”

Whatever happened, this family is hurting, these two little girls are hurting, this mom, and dad are hurting, and Livy Grace is hurting.

One minute everything is wonderful, you are home, planning dinner, and the next you are out frantically looking for your two missing furbabies………..and then you are dealing with the worst of news……..struck by car….

Gigi was killed instantly... Livy Grace terribly injured……she made it through the night…….countless prayers are going up all over the country………but we just don’t know yet.

So the next time you are out, and you see that lost dog, and you think to yourself of how very busy you are, instead of whispering a prayer……stop. Find it. Take it home, take it to the pound, but don’t leave it loose. You never know how much heartache you might be preventing…..

 And as to the person who hit these two dogs, it was someone in an SUV. They did not stop, they did not slow down...they just kept on driving, one dog dead in the street and the other in agony. The lady behind this person stopped, and struggled alone to load two large dogs into her truck, people passed by her, no one helped. This angel in a pick up is responsible for saving Livy Grace's life. We don't know her name, but we pray a multitude of blessings be poured down upon her. We pray also for the people who kept on going, that they might slow down, and consider things, and feel compassion. It's a sad world, that so many will not take time to care, to care about an injured animal, to care enough to assist a fellow human...but its a beautiful world also, because of those who do take the time to care.

“There are various places within which a dog may be buried. We are thinking now of a Gigi, whose coat was as white as the snow, and who, so far as we are aware, never entertained a mean or an unworthy thought.

Beneath a cherry tree, or an apple, or any flowering shrub of the garden, is an excellent place to bury a good dog. Beneath such trees, such shrubs, she slept in the drowsy summer, or gnawed at a flavorous bone, or lifted head to challenge some strange intruder. These are good places, in life or in death. Yet it is a small matter, and it touches sentiment more than anything else.

For if the dog be well remembered, if sometimes she leaps through your dreams actual as in life, eyes kindling, questing, asking, laughing, begging, it matters not at all where that dog sleeps at long and at last. On a hill where the wind is unrebuked and the trees are roaring, or beside a stream she knew in puppyhood, or somewhere in the flatness of a pasture land, where most exhilarating cattle graze. It is all one to the dog, and all one to you, and nothing is gained, and nothing lost -- if memory lives. But there is one best place to bury a dog. One place that is best of all.

If you bury her in this spot, the secret of which you must already have, she will come to you when you call --come to you over the grim, dim frontiers of death, and down the well-remembered path, and to your side again. And though you call a dozen living dogs to heel they should not growl at her, nor resent her coming, for she is yours and she belongs there.

People may scoff at you, who see no lightest blade of grass bent by her footfall, who hear no whimper pitched too fine for mere audition, people who may never really have had a dog. Smile at them then, for you shall know something that is hidden from them, and which is well worth the knowing. The one best place to bury a good dog is in your heart.”

Where to Bury A Dog, by Ben Hur Lampman (adapted for Gigi)

Rest in peace Gigi girl, you were a good dog, rest now in the hearts of those who loved you most.

We contine to pray for Livy Grace and for all her humans. The last report received is that Livy is hanging in there and that she has followed peoples movements with her eyes. This is good news as first reports were that she might have lost her eyesight. Livy Grace is deaf so we are praying hard that she will be able to see.

Please join us in praying for this dog and her humans. And don't forget to add some prayers for Smitty.

(letter from angel courtesty of Sandra Clark Yebba)