Why I Did Not Kill My Dogs

A few years ago I almost murdered two dogs. 

Actually, that may not be completely accurate.  It wasn’t like I had a gun to their heads or a knife to their throats or anything else like that.  I did, however, express my dislike of them in a vociferous manner. 

I yelled.  Loudly.  I told them that I hated them and wished that they would just die.  They didn’t deserve this type of treatment and I am not proud of what I did.  I’m just reporting what happened.

Smidgen was a dalmation mixed with some kind of hound dog.  She was white with black spots and had the kindest eyes I have ever seen.  Blessed with a sweet disposition, she would often sit next to me on the couch with her head in my lap.

Amos was supposedly a full-blooded beagle, but with his bowed legs and sizeable midsection he probably had a little bit of basset hound in him.  He was a good friend; one of the best I’ve ever had. 

I’m not quite sure what set me off that day.  We had loaded the kids along with Smidgen and Amos in the little Dodge Grand Caravan that we had then and traveled to Knoxville from our then-home in Oakdale.  On the way to my mother-in-law’s house, Kristy had to make a stop at a clothing store to look for a dress.

I sat in the van with the kids and the dogs.  That is when the incident happened.

It gets kind of hazy from  this point.  I know that one or both of the dogs did something that I did not like; I’m just not sure what.  Whatever it was, I did not handle it well.

My blood pressure shot up as my voice increased in volume.  I could feel myself sweating and my heart beating.  Then I realized that the people sitting in their cars near me might be able to see my little outburst.  I needed to calm down.

So I picked up my Bible.

What I am about to tell you normally doesn’t happen to me.  In fact this may be the only time that it has ever happened to me.  But it is the absolute truth.

My Bible fell open to the book of Proverbs chapter twelve.  I looked down right at verse number ten.  That is where I (the one who just moments before went berserk screaming at 2 helpless dogs) read these words:

“A righteous man regardeth the life of his beast: but the tender mercies of the wicked are cruel.”

That’s when I prayed the most unique prayer of my life:  “Crap, God!  I’m sorry.” 

Then I looked over at Smidgen and Amos.  I apologized profusely while patting their heads.  They wagged their tails profusely and tried to lick me.

I explained to my children that Daddy shouldn’t have yelled like that and that they should never do what they had just witnessed me do.  I don’t think they fully comprehended it because they were too young.  

Then I looked out the window, amazed at how God reveals Himself to a moron like me.

I smiled knowing that God loves me in spite of my foolishness. 

And He loves you the same way.


2 thoughts on “Why I Did Not Kill My Dogs

  1. I have been there, maybe not in exactly the same position, but I am familiar with the rise in blood pressure and the uncontrollable verbal diarrhea. I think I might steal that prayer from you, if you don’t mind. “Crap God! I’m sorry.” might just be my perfect prayer and one I have needed on many occasions. Hope you and your family are well. Glad you didn’t kill your dogs 😉

    • Feel free to use the prayer anytime. We’re doing great–sounds like you are doing well with your familay and your new addition as well.

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