When You Feel Maxed Out

And he said: “Naked I came from my mother's womb, And naked shall I return there. The LORD gave, and the LORD has taken away; Blessed be the name of the LORD.”
(NKV) Job 1:21 

God’s gift for my hard work, Maxi joined our family the same day I was promoted at work. It didn’t take a belly rub to get this English bulldog laying on his back and rolling in joy. Since then, I was never alone, even in the toilet, since he would groan outside the door till I let him in. The clicking of his nails on our wood floor tailing me had become a reassuring background.

To shadow me was one thing, but to obey commands was another for Maxi.  Bullheaded yet princely, he tested the fruit of the Spirit whenever rules were set. The couch was for people, and neither was it a face towel. No table food! It  might cause you allergies. Stay! We can’t take dogs to all our appointments. Don’t pivot on your bottom to get something; you need to stand and get to it. Walking is something you do, not watch. Doors are built to close rooms so don’t whine about it. Clipping nails is part of grooming. You need to chew food, not gobble it down. Maxi taught me to win the battle of the will through firmness and gentleness. But we threw away these rules the day Maxi had to cross the rainbow bridge.

Maxi had been battling allergies, ear and eye infections, and later, seizures. Strong-willed, he wouldn’t give up the fight until we saw he wouldn’t benefit from his suffering. Two months short of his eighth birthday and three months after my next promotion, we took Maxi to a pain-free home.

​I treasure Maxi’s memories and the most important legacy he left.

Every day, hours before my alarm, Maxi’s guttural cry would wake me. Choosing to ignore it, I would turn up the volume on my Audio Bible app, but his cry would always prevail because of its distinct quality. Grudgingly, I would rise to let Maxi into the bedroom and go back to sleep. Then, two thickly padded paws would be planted on the side of our mattress. Pretending to be asleep, I wouldn’t budge. Maxi just needed to sniff our presence. As quietly as this fifty-four-pound bulldog can, he would land his paws back on the floor, curl up beside the bunk and snore away. Our presence is Maxi’s joy.

If only we could be spiritual bulldogs, always seeking our Father’s presence to gain the fullness of joy.

​You will show me the path of life; In Your presence is fullness of joy; At Your right hand are pleasures forevermore.
Psalms 16:11

​Two years ago, I wrote this for Homeboy, our pug, Maxi’s little big brother.
 
Our Homeboy  was God’s provision
At a time  when I needed consolation
Into our lives, his was woven
Through thick and thin, his loyalty is proven.
 
When I’m happy, he’s ecstatic.
When I’m sad, he’s sympathetic.
I can vent, and he listens.
When I’m active, he quickens.
 
When I want to be alone, he’s unobtrusive.
When I’m discouraged, he looks persuasive.
Feasting is our favorite way of bonding,
Playing with him is energizing.
 
For nine years, he was my shadow
Wherever I went, he was sure to follow.
At times, I may have taken him for granted
But to be around was all he wanted.
 
Emotional support and companionship were his mission.
Indeed he was more than a friend with determination.
Fighting for life through pain
For his sole purpose to gain.
 
What an example for a leader
This simple dog thinks like a winner!
If only you and I could be like Homeboy
We can live our lives in joy!

Dog is  man’s best friend. Maxi and Homeboy are as different as water and air. But they have a common purpose in life; to be with their master, and that makes them a best friend. Our Lord says:

“No longer do I call you servants, for a servant does not know what his master is doing; but I have called you friends, for all things that I heard from My Father I have made known to you. - John 15:15 NKJV

Our dogs didn’t have to work for our unconditional love, they simply trusted us with their lives, and with their death. Do we trust our Father the same way?

What lessons have you learned from your pets?