Rosie

I share my home and my life with the world’s neediest dog, and I don’t mind a bit.  Rosie, a 25-lbs. beagle, sleeps at this moment on the arm of my sofa, occasionally interrupting her snooze to open one eye and assess me, her self-assumed responsibility.  Once she decides I’m breathing, she closes the eye and resumes her nap.  

I adopted Rosie almost a year ago, and I didn’t just get a dog; oh, no.  Rosie took one look – one sniff in my ear, really, and decided I direly needed a nursemaid, and she was just the dog to do it!   At one time, a lovely English Lab who had been trained to take care of me fulfilled that role, and my little Rosie has determined to cloak herself in that (self-taught) mantle. 

Did you know that, apparently, and according to the veterinarian, beagles come in two varieties -supper chill or super anxious?  Guess which Ms. Rosie happens to be. We struggled through submissive pottying, terrified-new-dog biting, and an ‘I’m-not-going-to-eat; you-can’t-make-me’ phases.  We learned each other’s proclivities: she likes to bolt out the door and run through the woods around my house for 10-30 minutes leaving me to pace and worry that she’ll get hit by a car. I don’t like when she’s bolts out the door and runs through the woods around my house.  She likes to put “indestructible” dog toys to the test. I don’t like that she’s destroyed every single “indestructible dog toy I’ve ever found.  She likes to wake me up at 7:00 AM by standing inches from my face and staring creepily at me.  I don’t like to wake up to unblinking eyes inches from mine.  I have discovered that reasoning with a beagle is much like reasoning with a toddler, and just as effective. I admit that Rosie mostly wins these battles of will.  

When Rosie first came to me, I determined she would sleep in her crate in the hall bathroom, but Rosie thought otherwise.   Last night I fell asleep with Rosie on the foot of my bed; two hours later, I awoke with her cuddled next to me, her head on the next pillow.  I smiled and turned to face the other way.  Rosie snuggled closer.  

Like most things worth keeping, Rosie entered my life as I looked for something completely different.  I began a search for a goldendoodle, but never did I ever consider a beagle.  Then, a lady I didn’t know called me out of the blue and asked me to take a beagle she was fostering, a little girl beagle that had been found along with her brother wondering in the woods.  I hesitated, so very confident only a Goldendoodle would do.  But, then, I had prayed for the right dog to come…maybe there was something to this.  

So…enter Rosie stage right. 

I quickly learned that for our relationship to work, Rosie needed anxiety medicine. I needed Rosie to be on anxiety medicine.  (Have you ever seen a dog become a basket case over a baby on TV crying?  I have; it’s not pretty.)  Rosie needed me to be patient as she learned how to navigate this new environment.

Patience is not a virtue with which I was blessed naturally.  Instead,Abba has afforded ample opportunities for me to develop this trait – opportunities I have squandered.  By His grace, He continues to open His hands to me, offering that which I have repeatedly pushed aside and rejected.  And, still, He reaches out to me, for me.  Love defined; love resounded in that open hand.

At moments I’m razed by duplicity of doubt, but tonight, a little beagle asleep on my sofa is enough to remind me of what is true.