The Prodigal Dog

The previous occupants of the house where I now live in East Lake were evicted so they had to leave in a hurry. Often in an eviction, choices have to be made concerning what to take given the limited time, resources, and space to move and store all their possessions. Sadly, pets are frequently chosen as one of those expendable possessions to be abandoned, which is how I came to meet a dog neighbors introduced to me as Smoky.

Though abandoned, Smoky still thinks he lives here. With no one to take care of him, smart dog that he is, he has resourcefully taken to raiding all the neighborhood garbage cans. Even worse, he drags what he decides he wants either into the street or back to what is now my yard. Sunday, I arrived home from church to find a full bag of garbage (among other things) in the middle of the front yard that had just recently been cleaned up, an impressive though annoying feat for such a small dog. Needless to say, Smoky has earned the reputation as an unwelcome menace in the neighborhood and has been treated as a pest. His history of abuse is so severe he would not come within twenty feet of me when I first arrived, even when I was offering him food. My heart hurt for Smoky as I looked at him from a distance, recognizing his predicament as a lonely and rejected member of the community everyone would just as soon see dead. So, I decided to love him and try to find a way to take care of him. Besides, the landlord of this house, Tony, liked the idea of my adopting him since he thought he might make a good guard dog. Bonus.

After days of coaxing Smoky closer with food, I earned his trust enough (with the help of some Cajun turkey) to lure him far enough into the house that I was able to trap him by shutting the door behind him, to his horror. No amount of coaxing, with food or otherwise, calmed him enough for me to approach him without his dodging me and running to another part of the house. I finally had to limit his options for escape by cornering him in my bedroom. Shaking and uncertain, he relented to allowing me to get close to him and even to pet him. After some time and more turkey, he finally relaxed and began to wag his tail. Thinking I had won his friendship, I let him go so I could do some needed chores around the house. However, as soon as he was free, he bolted from the room with the same panicked behavior as before. I had to repeat the process of cornering him, feeding him, and loving him half a dozen times over a period of hours before I began to see even a small change in his acceptance of my love and care, but it was enough to convince me there was hope in winning him over. Now all I had to do was overcome the challenge of containing him for the sake of his safety and the sanity of the neighbors.

I had heard from the neighbors about his ability as an escape artist. Though my back yard is fenced in, there are several places at the bottom flexible enough for a smart and determined dog like Smoky to wiggle through. So, I first inspected and secured the weak areas I deemed possible sources of temptation before releasing him inside the fence. Confident I had blocked any potential for his escape, I freed Smoky in the back yard then left to go run errands. When I returned, I was disappointed but not very surprised to find him gone, but not for long, since moments later I saw him prancing up the street toward the house. When he arrived, he kept his distance as before but showed less fear. Hope was rekindled. Though not as easily, I managed to trap him in the house again, fed him, loved him, then went to work on the fence again. After releasing him, I went to go get my son Bailey for the weekend. When we returned, we found he had escaped again, but this time he was sitting very proudly in the front yard waiting on us; at least I thought he looked proud since I was so humiliated I had been outsmarted twice by a dog. To my amazement and as an added humiliation, Smoky immediately approached Bailey when he got out of the van and allowed him to pet him. However, my indignation was quickly overcome by gratitude when I realized I would not have to trap Smoky again. Leaving Smoky in my son’s charge, I went to work on the fence again. When we put Smoky in the back yard this time, I decided to change my strategy by watching him from the windows inside the house with hope I could discover his means of escape. Within minutes of his release, after sniffing and poking along the weak areas I had attempted to secure, he found a section just flexible enough to wiggle through. Outsmarted again. My son went outside to catch him again but I was sure Smoky would run since, smart dog that he is, he had to have figured out we were going to put him inside the fence again. Nevertheless, Smoky came right to him as soon as he was called. Even after going through this exercise about eleven times over the course of the weekend, Smoky returned and allowed my son to capture him. I’m wondering if he had begun to see it as a game. He’s even coming to me now. I hope he is enjoying himself.

I’m going to continue to try to find a way to adopt and take care of Smoky. I wish he could see I only want to love him, provide for him, and protect him. If he continues to run, he will continue to suffer the abuse of unwelcoming neighbors, the danger of being run over by a car, and the sickness that will only grow worse if he continues to feed on garbage. Why does he not stay after I have given him what he needs? Why does he not desire what I have given him more than the lifestyle he has known to produce such loneliness, pain and torment? I believe the answer is Smoky is just as much a product of this fallen world as I am. How often has God pursued me, cornered me, loved me, fed me, and provided me shelter, then let me go within boundaries he set for my care and protection, only to watch me cross them as I run away again? What is it about sin that compels me to run from God in pursuit of what I know not only to be inferior, but harmful? Why does God keep taking me back in when I come home, running to embrace me even though I reek with the stench of the pigs with whom I have been feeding? Why would he die to make me clean, knowing I would only go back and wallow in the mud again? Such is the mystery, sufficiency, relentlessness, and beauty of grace. Such is the grace I am compelled to show Smoky and the people who live here. You see, Smoky has been a meaningful introduction to my mission here but he is not the only one left abandoned, wandering the neighborhoods, wreaking havoc and feeding on garbage to survive. I have been able to begin building a few other relationships as well:

There is a mother, unemployed, recently released from prison after eight years, struggling to start again and looking desperately for support. She is grieving over the time lost with her children that cannot be regained. She remembers and desires the powerful role her Christ following father played as a spiritual mentor and counselor but is unable to restore that bond due to his moving away some time ago. She hopes to find that support here. She has given my information to some of her friends and brought one of them by Friday to meet me.

There is a man with construction experience who is unemployed. He has been able to find some odd jobs (some working with me), but is struggling to provide for his wife and stepson. He confesses himself to be a Christ follower and is open to being discipled for leadership. He is grateful for the work and fellowship I have shared with him and looks forward to being a part of the work God is doing here. He and I are very quickly becoming close friends as we share fellowship together in our common purpose.

There is a religious woman, charismatic in the praise of Jesus and the proclamation of testimonies that prove he is worthy of her trust in him. She also trusts God understands she is a sinner with needs so will not mind if she enters into a sexual relationship with a new friend since her second husband recently abandoned her. She says she knows what the Bible says and does not need to be told what to do, she can make up her own mind. She asked me to involve her in leading worship and evangelism. Young people in her extended family live with her. They are grateful, as their new neighbor, that I am friendly and say they are glad I am here.

There is a group of mechanics who work in a shop located behind my house. A couple of them approached me while I was working in the back yard to inquire about the plans for the house. As professing believers, they are grateful I am there and told me I am at any time welcome to visit their shop. One of them let me borrow a crow bar to tear out a rotten floor in the house and said he wants to support what we are doing because it is so needed.

There are two women who daily walk in front of my house, greeting me as they go by. Sometimes they ask for change to buy cigarettes. Both of them are homeless. One of them was pregnant until this morning. She slept on the stairs yesterday while I listened to the sad testimony of the other, filled with pain and loss, related to drifting from the immature faith she developed as a child. She doubted God would take her back given the depth of her sin. She cried as I reminded her of the sufficiency of God’s grace, the power of his redemption and his eagerness for her return. Unable to find a place for them to sleep out of the rain last night, I offered them one of the empty bedrooms in the back of my house along with my heater and some warm clothes to pad the hard floor. The pregnant woman went into labor this morning. By God’s provision, I was able to bring her to the hospital where I now sit in the delivery waiting room.

My failure to rescue and adopt Smoky has been a humbling lesson in the reality of my limitations and the unreliability of quick fixes. There is so much need here, so many like Smoky who need to be loved, fed and protected. They will just run if I chase them. They cannot be quickly caught, converted and contained any more than Smoky…any more than me or you. There is no government agency that can make them go away or keep them out of our yard because, out of their neediness, they have become a menace to our manicured structures of order and self-reliant sensibilities, tramps among suburban pure-breds. Like I sent my son to call Smoky and bring him to me, God is sending us outside of our comfortable yards to call the lost and abandoned to new yards he is building, equipped with the power of the Holy Spirit, the message of the Gospel, and the Way of the Spirit filled life. We are to invite all people to be adopted by our Master and to live with us no matter how different, dirty, untrained or unruly they may be, lavishly sharing with them the grace and abundant provision God has so lavishly given to us. Not everyone will come when called like Smoky came to my son. Nevertheless, we are commanded by God to invite everyone in the knowledge it is not for us to know or up to us to decide who will come or when. For those who do come, we are to make them family, loving them, sharing with them, and patiently guiding them according to the Way directed by the leadership of our Master. For you who has been given so much and trained so well, can you really do otherwise?