Daring Dakota

To the right you can see a picture of my older dog, Dakota. She's a 4.5 year old hound mix who found us when she was approximately 8 weeks old.

Dakota is a smart puppy. She learns tricks very quickly, is highly motivated by food, follows voice and signaled commands and knows when she's in trouble before I do.

Sometimes she's too smart for her own good. In our last apartment when she would eat dirt from our house plant strewing it along the carpet she would often run into her pin as soon as I got home before we dicovered the dirty carpet. A self-punishing dog.

Recently, her cleverness has resulted in added frustration for her mommy and me. Dakota has never been allowed on any furniture. But being left alone during the day to rome the apartment by herself has apparantly led her to believe she has certain newfound priviledges.

Dakota always greets us at the door when we arrive home with an excited and adorable wagging tale. But when she's done something she shouldn't have there is no greeting. When this happens our routine is to search the apartment for a warm spot that is crinkled and matted like a furry 60 lbs something has been sleeping there.

First, it was our bed. So we began leaving things on the bed of which Dakota is afraid. She's terrified of motorcycle helmets so those worked for a while until she overcame her fear and the warm spot one day was right beside a big scary helmet.

Then we placed my hand drum on the bed. Everytime I even graze it with my hand walking by and it sounds, Dakota goes running. But, eventually she braved the dangerous drum to enjoy some bed time. Now, every morning we cover the bed with various things-drum, tool kit, clothes-just to keep her on the floor.

Thwarted from the bed, we began finding warm spots on the couch. She is wiley. This one was easy. Remembering to do it is the hard part. I plop a bar stool longways on the couch and she has no space to curl up. Thinking we'd fixed her, I came home recently to the absense of a greeting not knowing why, because the couch and bed were both dog-proofed. That's when I discovered that she had discovered the sofa chair. Yarrr!

So, because of this daring dog, before leaving the house we must cover the bed with stuff, block off the couch and sofa chair, and close the second bed room door to keep her off that bed. It's a lot of work each morning when I'm in a hurry.

Reflecting, I wonder how often God sees us like I see my dog, constantly pushing the limits trying to get away with things even though there's no chance of actually hiding it. Does God ever look at us and think, "Bad dog!"? More likely, I think God's heart responds like mine toward Dakota, eventually calling her gently and loving on her with a good rubbin, telling her I love her and that she'll always be my dog.

(And yes, the third picture is underwear on her head!)