By NANCY PATRICK

People have many opinions about pets—cats, dogs, birds, hamsters, snakes, and even iguanas. I’m not judging anyone for preferring one over the other, but I love dogs.

During my childhood, my family had at one time or another all those animals except snakes and iguanas.

As an adult, my first pet was a sweet little Chihuahua named Lisa. Mike and I obtained Lisa at four weeks of age because her mother wouldn’t feed her. We bought a doll’s bottle to nurse her. We loved that little girl but didn’t know all the rules for responsible dog owners. 

Consequently, Lisa contracted distemper when she was about three. The veterinarian told us that if we treated her carefully, she had a fifty percent chance of survival. We suddenly became parents of a very sick little dog. She did survive and remained our first “child” for six years.

In 1974, Mike graduated from seminary in Fort Worth so we went to Bethel Baptist Church in Princeton, Illinois, his first full-time pastorate. We packed our U-Haul truck and readied ourselves for our three-day journey from Texas to Illinois.

I was four months pregnant at the time, so we had a lot going on in our lives—including moving our little Lisa to her new home. You may know that Chihuahuas have nervous personalities and possessive tendencies toward their owners. 

Lisa had watched us move all our possessions to the truck and had become extremely agitated. Since the house was empty, we spent that last night in a friend’s home but left Lisa in the old house so we could pick her up the next morning.

When we arrived to pick up Lisa and the truck, we found her face swollen and her “voice” raspy. We deduced that she had cried and howled all night, grieving our abandonment of her!

We loved that little dog as she loved us, but she did not like having a baby in the house, nor did she appreciate all the attention we directed at our baby boy. When she became aggressively dangerous to the baby, we made the decision to rehome her. My heart broke even though we found a wonderful family for her.

Over the years as our son grew, we owned several other dogs—Blinky, the mutt; Dusty, the spaniel; Buffy, the American spitz; and finally, Max, the miniature dachshund. Every one of these dogs had major disruptive behaviors. After Max, Mike and I decided—no more dogs!

Gracie

And so, thirty years passed with no dog, and our oath never to have another one remained firm. The loss of a family pet hurt too much. 

Then in January 2022, I became so depressed that I told Mike I had to have a cuddle buddy. He hesitated at first, but after I boo-hooed every time Taylor Jones Humane Society showed their needy dogs, he relented.

My friend and classmate from Abilene High School, Sharon Kelly, who volunteers at TJHS, told me about a number of dogs removed from a dreadful situation. They had heart worms, were abused physically and emotionally damaged. I had told her I wanted a lap dog—female, quiet, and low key. She immediately sent me a video of her holding and petting Mary Grace (changed to Gracie by us).

This little girl was two years old, infected with heart worms, and terrified of people, loud sounds, and eating in front of people. We decided to love her and adopt her and assume the responsibilities of heart worm treatments, spaying, and training to our home and routine. (The Humane Society pays for all the initial medical care for the animals in their facility.)

She developed an immediate attachment to me, but her deep-seated fear of men, including Mike, almost excluded him. Because routines for these emotionally abused animals are extremely important, we tried to maintain daily routines as much as possible.

Gracie quickly learned our typical schedules and routines—so much so that deviations confuse her. Though Gracie limits Mike’s relationship, he has done a wonderful job of establishing certain practices with her. He provides her treats in the morning, afternoon, and evening. She even has a game she plays with him each night before bedtime. 

I realize that I am obsessive about my little fur baby, but I credit her with saving my sanity, if not my life. This little dog never misbehaves—no begging, rare “potty accidents,” and no barking except during her daily game with Mike. 

Dogs have been called man’s best friend and for good reason. The relationship between a dog and its owner is almost spiritual. Even a non-compliant or difficult dog knows its master, and the master knows his or her animal.

The connections remind me of God’s relationship with us. He creates, nurtures, and guides his children. Life has broken some who become rebellious and defiant while others attain humility and gratitude for their master’s love. 

Our heavenly father loves his children and gives to them generously. The least we can do is offer him loyalty and unquestioning love as our pets do for us. 

I hope God loves me as I love Gracie—abundantly, freely, understandingly, and purely. 

Nancy Patrick is a retired teacher who lives in Abilene and enjoys writing