Monday, January 19, 2004


Our lab mix, Klondike, parks himself on our stairwell.

That, I suppose, is not unusual. What is somewhat strange is that Klondike won't move. If you decide you might like to climb those stairs, Klondike won't object, but he won't get out of your way either. He will position his carcass in your path and stare at you with a certain blissful ignorance as you are forced to shimmy by him.

He was that way when he was 10 weeks old and weighed 18 pounds, and he's that way 10 years later at 85 pounds.

It's not a behavior exclusive to the stairs. Klondike will lay next to the couch while I'm reclining, but when I step down he holds his ground. He never makes any effort to avoid being stepped upon.

He will sleep next to my bedside and when I roll off the mattress he might occasionally crack open one eye, or even wag his tail, but he doesn't budge to make room for my fairly significant feet.

I've always thought he was at best stubborn, and more likely simply a little dim. No other dog I've ever owned has acted so silly.

Today, at the hospital, our young friend had her surgery. It went fine and she's going to recover although there are some hard days still ahead.

Many of her friends and family members were present as she was going into the O.R..

We prayed together.

We waited together.

Despite the trepidation of the day's events, I noticed there was a certain sense of tranquility about the morning. We had faith that everything would be okay.

Amy and I also spent some time today with her surgeon. He listened to our concerns, and carefully explained what his thoughts were on Amy's recovery and future treatment. Our pastor and a caring friend were in the room at the time providing us with comfort and reassurance.

Although there are still some hard days before us too, I came away feeling better about how things will work out in future weeks.

I left the hospital this afternoon. When I arrived home Klondike parked himself on the stairs again.

I realized it then.

Klondike knows I will go out of my way not to harm him.

He trusts me implicitly.

Today, I feel that same sense of peace

Perhaps it's not the dog who's been silly all these years.

PSALM 56:3

When I am afraid, I will trust in You.