Lucky

Note: The following story showed up in my inbox. I have not edited a single word.

MARY AND HER HUSBAND JOHN had a dog named Lucky.

Lucky was a real character. Whenever Mary and John had company come for a weekend visit they would warn their friends to not leave their luggage open because Lucky would help himself to whatever struck his fancy. Inevitably, someone would forget and something would come up missing.

Mary or John would go to Lucky’s toy box in the basement and there the treasure would be, amid all of Lucky’s other favorite toys Lucky always stashed his finds in his toy box and he was very particular that his toys stay in the box.

It happened that Mary found out she had breast cancer. Something told her she was going to die of this disease….in fact; she was just sure it was fatal.

She scheduled the double mastectomy, fear riding her shoulders. The night before she was to go to the hospital she cuddled with Lucky. A thought struck her…what would happen to Lucky? Although the three-year-old dog liked John , he was Mary’s dog through and through.. If I die, Lucky will be abandoned, Mary thought. He won’t understand that I didn’t want to leave him! The thought made her sadder than thinking of her own death.

The double mastectomy was harder on Mary than her doctors had anticipated and Mary was hospitalized for over two weeks. John took Lucky for his evening walk faithfully, but the little dog just drooped, whining and miserable.

Finally the day came for Mary to leave the hospital. When she arrived home, Mary was so exhausted she couldn’t even make it up the steps to her bedroom. John made his wife comfortable on the couch and left her to nap.

Lucky stood watching Mary but he didn’t come to her when she called. It made Mary sad but sleep soon overcame her and she dozed.

When Mary woke for a second she couldn’t understand what was wrong. She couldn’t move her head and her body felt heavy and hot. But panic soon gave way to laughter when Mary realized the problem.. She was covered, literally blanketed, with every treasure Lucky owned! While she had slept, the sorrowing dog had made trip after trip to the basement bringing his beloved mistress all his favorite things in life.

He had covered her with his love.

Mary forgot about dying.. Instead she and Lucky began living again, walking further and further together every day. It’s been 12 years now and Mary is still cancer-free. Lucky still steals treasures and stashes them in his toy box but Mary remains his greatest treasure.

It has a picture of a dog on the cover

FOR SOME REASON, you put a dog on the cover of a book and it’s automatically a gift book. Or at least that is the assumption. Before one page is read or examined it is shuffled off to the stack with devotionals and other coffee table fare. All because of the face on the cover.

So, was it worth it?

SO NOW THE QUESTION IS, was it worth it? After having a dog for 3 months, was it all you thought it would be? Knowing what you know now, would you make the three hour trip to the wilds of Alabama and bring Sophie home all over again? Now there is a question. Well, actually, it was three questions, but the answer is YES, YES, and YES.

The Power of Routine

I THOUGHT I HAD SAID IT ALL. In AND THEREBY HANGS A TALE, I thought I had exhausted the metaphor completely, saying what I wanted to say about the devoted life using the memory of my dogs Oreo, Salem, and Savannah, and their stories. Now the book is finished. It is complete, and I hope it is a satisfying and informative read. But I left something out. Not intentionally, but I neglected a couple of things. I am currently working on another book, and have found a way to fit these two items in, rather strategically. Let me explain.

The Gospel According To Dog

Note: The following is an excerpt from a chapter called IF ONLY I COULD LOVE LIKE THAT. Oreo is the main character in this story, our oldest Dalmatian at the time. The pulpit is all hers.

THIS IS NOT A FUNNY STORY. It will not make you laugh, but I think this tale stands in sharp relief from all other stories in this book, and it has to do with a cat, a drifter that came in our yard, a sick scruffy-looking cat with no name.

I couldn’t help myself

I TURNED IN THE FINISHED MANUSCRIPT ON APRIL 14. It was a great feeling. I worked hard, caressed every detail, and turned in the best book I think I had in me. Outside a few edits, a tuck here, a pinch there, it is done. But I hadn’t realized, after spending so much time with my three dogs, or at least reveling in the memory of my three dogs, that I presently had no dog, and I began to kind of ache for one.

Right Where You Are

MY OLDEST SON, Adam, and his wife Katie, have three children—Julian, Evie, and Audrey Gray, ages four, two, and one you still count in months. That is a lot of commas. We all live together in one big house. Actually, they have a suite below Benita and me. Adam is going to school, so it works nicely. There is just enough distance, and it is a very live household. At certain times of day, the house is always ON.

Marley & Me

THIS PAST FRIDAY, the day after Christmas, I took my family to see MARLEY & ME, the true story, or the adaptation of a true story, by John Grogan (played by Owen Wilson). In the film, Grogan is a wannabe reporter, who becomes, to his own surprise, a widely read columnist. In preparation for having kids in their future, he and his wife (Jennifer Anniston) decide to start the experiment with a puppy. A reasonable logic. After some consideration, they choose a Labrador. The remainder of the story has little to do with reason.

And dog will have his day. Book finds a home.

SOUNDS LIKE A NEWS headline doesn’t it? Not quite so grand as that, perhaps, but as of Wednesday, 28 November 2008, AND THEREBY HANGS A TALE has found a home. It is official. The ink dries even as I write this. HARVEST HOUSE PUBLISHERS are excited about the prospects of this book and my association with them. Who am I kidding? I’m the one who is excited. In these fickle times, with all the caution and uncertainties around us, when many publishers are risking very little, taking no new acquisitions, spending only safe money, if there is such a thing, I am grateful to Harvest House for being bold against all the omens in the market place.

The dog is just a metaphor

THE WORKING TITLE FOR THE BOOK this blog promotes is AND THEREBY HANGS A TALE. It is not a bad title. It is actually a good title. It’s Shakespeare, after all, a line he was particularly fond of, and used in a few of his plays. I won’t say how he uses it. If you know Shakespeare intimately you are probably grinning by now. Like the response you get when you simply mention dogs in conversation or if you see a dog or a group of dogs together, so a Shakespeare zealot would grin loudly at the mention of the title. In homage to the dog, that incredibly faithful creature, that good citizen in our households, and the best metaphor available for unconditional love, for authentic selfhood and all that, it is an appopriate title.