Buck vs. Stubby

My daddy was a first generation American.  His father immigrated from Sweden, passed through Ellis Island, and ended up in Chicago.  That is where Daddy was born.  Daddy lived in Chicago until he was about thirteen or fourteen and then the family moved to Delavan, Wisconsin.  My grandfather owned a business.  If you could make something out of bricks and/or stones, Grandpa could do it.  Daddy worked along with him and learned all about quality workmanship, under-promising, and over-delivering. 

Grandpa owned a chunk of land in Wisconsin and had lots of room for animals.  One of the animals was Buck, a dog.  Buck was long-gone to dog heaven before I ever heard of him.  It didn’t stop me from admiring him.  Buck was a pet, but he was also a self-taught guard dog.  He was friendly and loved visitors – everyone was welcome.  You could come on the property, visit, stay as long as you wanted – no problem.  When you left, it was absolutely against Buck’s rules for you to take anything with you.  Even if you had brought it along and it was yours to begin with.  Buck apparently viewed everyone as a potential thief and saw it as his job to provide adequate security service.  I always thought it was very commendable of Buck to be so concerned about his family and their belongings.  And I thought it would be great to have a dog of my own just like Buck. 

One day, our neighbor’s dog had puppies and we somehow ganged up on Mama enough that she said we could have one.  I was beyond thrilled.  I was about to have a Buck to take care of us.  Our puppy was named Stubby and I loved him immediately and unconditionally.  Stubby was no Buck.   There is no kind way to say this.  Stubby was not only a terrible guard dog, he was a thief.  This was in the days when everybody in the neighborhood knew everybody’s dog.  Dogs roamed around and visited wherever they wanted.  Stubby had the unfortunate habit of stealing mops and hauling them home.  It then became my job to find the rightful owner of the mop and return it with apologies from Stubby.  Stubby never reformed; he never turned from his life of crime.  It kept me busy. 

After my brother started school, I ended up being just about the only child on the block still at home.  So, Stubby was my companion and playmate and friend.  He didn’t mind if I dressed him up and pretended he was a girl. He didn’t mind wearing a cap gun tied around his “waist.”  Stubby and I spent a lot of time on the front porch.  He would sit in my lap and I would rock him in a big white wooden rocking chair. Sometimes I turned the rocker upside down and pretended it was a helicopter (with Stubby as my co-pilot), but mostly, I let it be a rocker.   I would sing to Stubby and tell him stories while we rocked.  We shared popsicles and Tootsie Pops and potato chips and Kool Aid.   Late one night, Mama woke Daddy to tell him about a noise she was hearing.  She thought someone was breaking in and she was worried.  There hadn’t been even the tiniest woof out of Stubby the Magnificent Guard Dog.  Daddy went to investigate.  The burglar turned out to be Stubby rocking himself on the front porch and bumping into the house with each backward motion of the rocker.  To this day, I remember Daddy saying, “What in the world has she done to that dog?”  Taught him to entertain himself – that’s what.

I loved Stubby so much that I quit wishing for Buck.  Everywhere I went on foot, Stubby went, too.  Guard dogs might just be over-rated anyway.  Mop stealing dogs don’t come along every day.  And he looked pretty cute in a dress.

By now, you probably know where I am – at the Cancer Center – I spend a lot of time here.  I learned a long time ago to stop wishing for what I don’t have and be thankful for what I do have.  Never wanted cancer.  Always wanted a closer relationship with God.  My journey has given me both.  Maybe, like me, you were wishing for a guard dog and got a bandit.  One thing is certain – if you spend too much time feeling sorry for yourself for missing out on what you wanted, you won’t have time to enjoy what you really got.  And you will forget to praise God in all things.  Don’t get me wrong – I never wanted to have to deal with cancer – but what else can I do?  Instead of talking about trusting God, I am trusting God.  There’s a big difference.  If it hasn’t already, some day your own journey may lead you from talking to acting.  And God will be right there. 

Guard my life, for I am faithful to you; save your servant who trusts in you. You are my God.    -  -  Psalm 86:2