Two minutes. One-hundred and twenty seconds. I decided to show mercy for our dog who is now on a chain all the time because she will not stay in the yard. She was loose for just two minutes and then she sprinted--faster than I've ever seen her sprint--to the wide open spaces. I hollered at the top of my voice. She didn't even look back. Was I a fool to show mercy (again)?
Did I mention it was somewhere close to 18-degrees that morning? So what! Did I mention that there was a 4-foot tall fence that surrounds the backyard? No problem! Did I mention that I had installed a "Stubborn Dog Invisible Fence" with the corresponding "Stubborn Dog Collars" which produce noise, vibrations and shocks at 10, 5 and then 2 feet around the perimeter of the boundary? Not even a hesitation! Did I mention the constant provision of food, water, shelter, company, pillows to sleep on, children to play with, another dog to pal around with, toys to chew, moles to dig up, squirrels to chase, flowers to sit upon, and a 30-something human who dutifully goes around with a shovel and ... well, let's just leave that to the imagination--what more could a 3-year old golden retriever want in life? Honestly. I am seriously asking this question. What more could she want? Apparently more than our family has to offer.
Is there a cure for a runner? Is there some incentive I can add to her life that will erase her need to escape? If dogs can be fools; Misty is a fool. But I cannot communicate to her doggie-heart the insanity of her running. There are cars out there on those roads and you, Misty, don't have a lick of street smarts. There are neighbors out there with rifles and you, Misty, look like a deer at full speed. There are people with the number for Animal Control already programmed into their mobile phones. There are not bowls of beef-flavored kibbles that magically appear every morning next to a bucket of fresh water. Why run? Why leave behind all that this family is freely offering you, Misty, for danger, starvation, and possible euthanasia out there in the "great beyond"?
But then I remember what a wise man once said on a previous episode of canine-escapism. Kevin, God must have given that dog to you for a reason. You must have a lesson to learn from that dog who runs.
Alas, it is true. Misty is a mirror. I am a runner, too. But God did find a way to communicate to my running-heart. He sent Jesus to "put on skin" so to speak, to live in the neighborhood, to speak our very dialect, in order to explain to us the Father (John 1:18). While I hollered at the top of my voice for Misty to come back to no avail, Jesus spoke in such a way that set the captives free, brought the dead to life, and still--in the most intense hours--opened not his mouth as a sheep led to the slaughter. While I have to tie up Misty now, Jesus holds us in without chains--He holds us in by grace. Grace that changes the heart. Jesus, cure my runner-heart with your transforming grace. "Prone to wander, Lord I feel it. Prone to leave the God I love. Here's my heart, oh take and seal it. Seal it for Thine courts above."
