After reading yesterday’s post, I feel the need to make a case for myself in reference to the issue of protecting Midge. In last night’s blog about fear, she glossed over the idea of me playing a key role in looking out for her. Although I’ve always been aware of her needs, during these last nine months since Pidge died, I’ve made that JOB ONE.

But lest you think I’m all “give” and no “get”, I want to set the record straight. My doggie pals and I agree that food is of utmost importance, but immediately after that comes affection. And Midge gives me plenty of that. Every head-pat, back-stroke and tummy-scratch puts heaven on earth for me.

And speaking of heaven, that brings me to the subject of God. I am a deeply spiritual animal, and I do agree with Midge that God is in charge of us both. However, if she experiences fear for any reason, I believe God has put me next to her to leap into action. If she is in need, the Creator will prompt me to tend to it. So don’t think he and I aren’t working in tandem on a regular basis.

Another “get” for me is Midge’s voice. All of us dogs thrive on happy talk. She speaks to me often, and I hang on her every word. Knowing I’m her only audience doesn’t mitigate my pleasure, and I eagerly expend wag-energy letting her know this.

Last night she sat down next to me on the floor, and we had a lengthy conversation. She cooed about how much she loved me and instructed me to live a long time. I’ll be eight in October and am feeling my age, but I promised I’d do my best. As we conversed, she used words; I used my eyes and tail. We understood each other perfectly.

Once in a while Midge is displeased with me, and it breaks my heart when I mess up. For example, last week I got nature’s call after she’d gone to bed. Even though we’d taken our regular midnight walk, several hours later an unexpected urgency came over me.

The next morning I heard her talking loudly to me from the basement corner where I had tried to hide my mess. Since then, I’ve been too embarrassed to go down there, even when Midge does. But I do wait for her at the top of the stairs.

As for protecting her during a break-in? I faithfully demonstrate my ever-readiness each time someone approaches our front door, using my loudest voice (which otherwise is quiet) as a sample of what I’d do in an emergency. If I sensed a smidgen of fear in Midge, I’d be all over an intruder. Some people say I look like a bear. That suits me fine, especially if it would terrorize someone threatening my Midge.

I’m a fortunate canine. Many of my buddies lead aimless lives without direction or purpose, but I’ve been given a calling. So, in conclusion, no one needs to worry about my mistress. Until God takes me to heaven, I’ll protect her like a ferocious, intimidating bear protects its cubs.

“Love always protects. Love never fails.” (1 Corinthians 13:7a,8a)