Ascribing too much...

I was a bit ridiculous about Kashi, especially the longer I had him.  I missed him while at work the last few years.  I did not want to travel unless I could have him come along.  He was not the easiest of dogs to own.  He was not a lap dog or snuggler or even very loveable.  He was opinionated and stubborn and grumpy.  Yet Kashi was my joy.  Never, not once, did my heart not melt when I saw him curled up in a ball.  Never, not once, did he fail to greet me with reckless abandon.  I was his world.  He was mine.

Amos is nothing like Kashi, for which I am quite grateful. 

Amos is everything I could want in a dog, if I were honest most things that Kashi was not.  He is more cuddly than I ever imagined possible.  He is soft and fluffy and does not shed.  He frets when I am out of sight and will follow me about the house if he is having floor time.  Washing dishes, I oft have him curled about my feet.  That puppy gets most of his exercise racing from room to room, anticipating where I am going and then rushing back repeatedly to ensure I am still on my way.  To be fair, Kashi had no problem with potty training.  Amos still gets an F.

Do I ascribe too much to him?  This, I do not know.

What I do know is that he is different with my guardian angel realtor than with my church friend.  He plays with the former and cuddles with the latter.  He seems to know what each needs. 

Do I ascribe too much to him?

Sleep has been elusive to me, even when taking medication that should knock me into next Tuesday.  Mind overrode body until body broke and body overrode mind.  Now, having slept a bit, mind is re-exerting control. I have been too afraid to sleep.

I did not fall asleep last night until around 4:00 AM. An hour or so later, I was trapped in a nightmare.  I was back in dark place, being smothered by a great weight and in great pain from what was taking place.  I screamed and screamed and screamed.  I suddenly awoke and realized that I was dreaming.  Only the weight and the pain were still there.

The pain is something I have to endure from time to time.  It catches me unaware.  Several months have passed since the last time...at least two by my reckoning, but I believe three or four.  It happened a while after I moved here.  One a scale of 1-10, it is a 10.  I lie there thinking I cannot stand a minute more, trying to hang on, waiting for it to pass.  Sometimes I pass out.  Sometimes I vomit.  It is horrible and there is nothing to do, really.  Just something I have to face.

When I awoke, I discovered I was screaming in real life as well, for I awoke with a very sore throat. And I awoke with a weight smothering me.  It was Amos.

Since the crate did not work with him, Amos has slept with me from the first. While I am reading, he will drape his neck across my own, as if trying to peer at the book as well.  Only I know he's not following the story since snores soon start filling my ear.  When I turn off the light, he will resettled himself on my pillow curled around my head.  Some time during the night, he moved to curled up back to back with me.  When I get up to go to the bathroom, he presses his back against mine once more upon my return.  He comforts me all night long.  Only, really, it is more like I am merely an oversized puppy to him.  He's just draping himself about me as he did his brothers and sister for 10 weeks after he was born.

Only the night of the attack, when I lay exhausted on the ground, Amos dragged himself across my lap.  He was in so much pain he didn't even want me touching him.  Still, he inched and scooted his battered body until it was draped across my lap.  The weight of him was so very comforting, as if he was trying to make himself the greatest presence in my life...not the dog owners threatening me, not the crowd of strangers, not the fear overwhelming my mind.

I still cannot hold him.  He still cries out most of the time I pick him up to take him outside to do his business.  You can still see the bruises beneath his white hair.  His wounds are not yet closed.  At night, he has slept on a pillow near me, but not touching.  I have greatly missed holding him.  But I have also missed having him curled at my back all night long.  Sometimes his small pressure against my back is what helps me have the courage to rewrite a nightmare and fall back asleep quickly.

Last night, though in far less pain than he was before, Amos once again draped himself across my lap.  It is like he knew I was being attacked again and wanted to protect me.  It is like he knew and did what he thought would help me.

Is it wrong for me to think that God created this very unusual puppy dog so that His weak and weary sheep might have the comfort she craves and a modicum of the peace she needs?  Am I ascribing too much to Amos?  Am I confused in how God provides for His children?


I am Yours, Lord.  Save me!