Two dogs left their yard seeking adventure.  One came home alive.  

My friend found his family’s other dog (dead) after an extensive search.  I was feeling sad and out of sorts at a hotel in New York City and had to call Pepper at the farm where she was staying.

“Hi Pep, how are you?” I asked.  “I wanted to check in.”

“I’m fine,” she answered, out of breath.  “I’ve been chasing my friends.  And they’ve been chasing me.  None of them are as fast as me,” she bragged.


“You are fast,” I agreed.  “Faster than the dogs in New York, I’m sure of it.  They are small and fluffy and ride in strollers.  The others trot along on their leashes in a sophisticated and world-weary manner.  They’ve seen it all and are not impressed.”

“I haven’t seen it all!” Pep replied.  “I would be impressed!  Will you take me to New York City?  It would be a grand adventure.”

“I’m actually feeling kind-of sad about adventures,” I admitted.  “Sometimes they don’t end the way you expect.  And sometimes an adventure can go horribly awry.”  I told her about the little dog who didn’t come home and how distraught my friend and his family are.

“Oh no,” she said quietly, and couldn’t say anything else.  Nor could I.

“We have to pray for his family,” she finally offered, “with our very best prayers.”

“At Thanksgiving we can talk about the little dog and be thankful for him and his adventurous spirit and all the love he shared with his family,” I added.

“Then we can cuddle and you can sneak me some turkey,” Pep suggested.

“Yes,” I said.  “It isn’t enough.  And – maybe it is.”


*     *     *

Rest in peace, Oreo (2009-2016).  You were greatly loved and loving.



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