MY WIFE BROUGHT HOME A DOG. She was driving to work and she saw it get hit by two cars.
Tagless the year-old black lab pup was suddenly broke and homeless.
Three drivers stopped, including my wife, who’s a nurse and a caregiver by nature.
Two men rushed the dog to the vet ER. Neither wanted to keep the dog.
That included the guy who put up his credit card to cover the medical bill. He already had two Shih Tzus.
When my wife told me that, I felt the Shih Tzus excuse seemed appropriate to my emerging situation.
I work out of a home office. So when my wife named the dog Buddy and brought him home, I had a barking buddy all day everyday while my wife worked in a place forbidden to dogs—as my place had once been.
Last week, two little sisters came to my front door.
They were both still too young for school. Their mommy stood behind them.
They lived in my Cul-de-sac, three houses away, but I barely knew them. Just well enough to say “Hi” from a distance.
The girls had a cellophane bag about the size of a softball. It said “Merry Christmas.” And it was full of goodies. I saw cookies and fudge.
I told them it was very sweet of them to do this. And I wished them a Merry Christmas.
I set the bag on the top of the kitchen counter and went upstairs to my office to write.
When I came down later to try out a cookie, you know what I found.
It wasn’t a cookie.
It was a cookie monster.
The cellophane paper lay flat as a sheet of stationary on the living room floor. I looked around for cookies or candy or anything sticky.
The floor was crumbless.
It occurred to me that one way to clean carpet is to throw cookie crumbs all over it. Turn the dog loose and you get a hot, wet vac.
I confessed to them in my thank-you note that Buddy the Dog got left holding the bag.
But I assured them that Buddy deeply appreciated the best doggone Christmas treat ever.
Here’s the question? Who’s the star of this story?
Here’s a hint about my vote: “Point your kids in the right direction” (Proverbs 22:6, The Message).