Whining and Dining

There are few things over which I lose sleep. Last night it was one of my basset hounds.

Samuel, an eight-year-old lemon basset who was given to me as a puppy by my daughter when my beloved dog died generally delights my soul. His antics over the years have cracked me up as we have learned really important lessons about co-habitating with hounds.

For one, basset hounds generally do not use their ears and their noses at the same time. Created by God to be a scent hound, they are not what you would consider to be good listeners. It was a beautiful day when I arrived at home yesterday. Sam was enjoying the weather and feeling his oats. Sometimes when a basset hound begins to bark, they forget to start. Our neighbor swears that Sam is deaf and just can't hear himself barking. If only the rest of us could be so blessed.

So, Sam commenced to barking. Wanting to stay in as good standing as possible with my neighbors, I stepped out on the back deck and called his name. He quit barking (quite unusual) and turned and looked at me. That is my clue that he has heard me. I called for him to come into the house. He just stood and looked at me. I started to count, as if he would respond to, "You better get here before I count to three." Realizing that negotiating with a dog is only slightly more ridiculous than with a kid, I stepped off the deck to go corral him. He immediately crouched down in his "time to play" stance, barking at me and running around the trees inviting me to give chase. That used to work, because as a puppy, he generally had something that belonged to me and not in a puppy's mouth to egg me on. It had been a while since he has been so puppyish, so I joined in the game for a few minutes and then herded him into the house.

Sitting back down to continue quilting, my peace was once more disturbed by Sam's incessant whining. In addition to barking, Sam has a massive vocabulary in whines, grunts, groans, and murmurings. This particular whining was his reminder to us that he thought it was dinner time. It wasn't, but it didn't take long to bust out the feed bowls to shut him up. He and his sidekick, Tillie, both agree that dinner time is their favorite time of day. With the beasts fed and happy, there were a few hours of peace.

While Sam is the larger and older of the two bassets, he tends to be somewhat of a wimp. We have had problems in the past with Tillie taking his food away from him and growling at him when he wants to get up on their chaise lounge with her. Not a dumb dog by any means, Sam has learned that he can "tattle" on Tillie if she does not give him what he wants. Last night in the middle of the night, what he wanted was to be able to lie on the chaise lounge in the spot that was closet to the back of the chair. It is a lot like the kids arguing about who sits where in the car. He whined at my bedroom door until I came into the living room, causing Tillie to give up her position to see what was going on. As soon as she moved, he jumped into his preferred spot and we were all happy again.

What's the moral of this story? Well, first, my husband loves me very much. That is why I still have basset hounds. Second, it is probably getting close to time to remind the dogs who the boss is. They seem to be forgetting. Third, just think how much like basset hounds we are in our relationship with God. How often do we whine, groan, moan, and complain about where we are in comparison to where we want to be? How often do we get into circumstances where we have no business? How often do we "tattle" to God to report that someone is in a position we think we should be in?

The most amazing thing is that God loves us anyway. Think about that next time you are howling at the moon.

As for the basset hounds, they will sleep in their crates tonight so that I do not have to mediate their differences in lieu of sleep. I'm not sure what God is going to do about you.