A Coal Miner’s Daughter, Man’s Best Friend and Cheesecake

Today, I sit gathered around the kitchen table with my own version of the Golden Girls, which is a television sitcom about some elderly women who became roommates and the best of friends, only my friends and I are not quite elderly and we share our lives with man’s best friend, instead of man (well at the present moment anyway, I am sure Mr. Right will be along any day now, but he has to get along with Fido). We, like the Golden Girls, spend our time together dinning on cheesecake and drinking coffee while we discuss life issues and days gone by. The only real difference that I can see is my best bud, my baby, Brutus, a mixture of Lab, Brittney Spaniel, and Alaskan Husky, curled up at my feet patiently waiting for that drop of cheese cake to come falling to the floor.

I have to admit that most days Brutus, that cute medium sized, somewhat tan and white fur ball, seems more like an added appendage than a dog, but the truth is that I couldn’t imagine my life without him. However, I digress, for this story does ultimately end up with Brutus but it began with a stray dog. So, in the immortal words of that most famous Golden Girl, Sophia, portrayed by Estelle Getty on the sitcom, “Picture it…”

Small town Pennsylvania, Autumn, 1985, a young coal miner’s daughter, blond hair and blue eyes, without a soul to play with, steps outside of her family home to play with her favorite baton with dreams of becoming a majorette one day. She starts to lift those skinny, scrawny legs as high as she can and marches down the sidewalk, twirling like she has never twirled before. Yet, to take her routine up a notch and add some flare, she makes a bold and daring move and tosses that baton high up in the air only to have the bitter disappointment to see it land somewhere off in the distance and not in her talented dream-filled hands.

Though, not wanting to give up on her dream, she gingerly walks over towards the sound of the thundering thud of the baton where it hit the ground to pick it up and try it again. However, when she went to stand back up, a slobbery, smelly tongue, streaked the side of her freckled cheek. She looked at the source of this kiss with amazement; for what she had been praying for, God had just allowed to walk right into her own backyard. He was a beautiful Golden Retriever, with his fur shinning like the sun and his tail wagging wildly behind him. It was clear to see that he was just as happy to see his new friend as she was to see him, especially when she couldn’t get him to stop kissing her. It could have been that he was just simply grateful for a friendly face after his long journey, but I think it was much more than that because it started off a chain of events that this little girl would never forget.

The reality of the situation was that both friends were grateful to have crossed each other’s path that day, even though the little girl new that somewhere deep in her heart of hearts that there was someone out there who loved her new friend just as much as she did and was missing him terribly. She knew what she had to do and she reached down grabbing the dogs bright blue collar that was around his fury fluffy neck, and read the silver bone tag that was dangling down in front, “If found, please return Lucky to …” There it was, the truth that she had known all along and it was time to reunite Lucky with his best friend. So she marched those same skinny scrawny legs back up to her house only this time, instead of the baton, she had Lucky following along right beside her.

After a somewhat long, pleading and drawn out explanation to her mother, she picked up the phone and dialed the number engraved on the tag. The man on the phone was more than ecstatic to hear this meek little voice on the other end and the good news that it had to share, and a half hour later Lucky was back in the arms of his family. Yet, once again the agonizingly bitter disappointment darkened the heart of this little girl, for though she was happy that Lucky made it back home, she was alone again. However, like her unwillingness to give up with the baton, she was unwilling to give up on God to answer her prayer for a true best friend, for a dog just like Lucky.

Feeling both determined and still a little lonely, she went upstairs to her bedroom to pray. She sat down cross legged on her floor and just started talking to God, pleading with him in much the same way that she did her mother only minutes before. She wondered what she could do that might make God remember her prayer and hopefully answer it a little quicker, when all of the sudden it hit her, almost like a light bulb illuminating right above her. She would write it down; after all that’s what she had seen adults do over and over again to remember things. However, not having any paper on hand, she decided she would write it on her white bedroom door with bright orange crayon. God would surely see that prayer written on her door and she was certain a dog would be on his way to her house again, and this time she would get to keep him.

Well, God wasn’t the only one who would see that orange crayon because as the little girl lay sleeping that night dreaming of her new doggie that was on his way, her mother was reading the prayer on her door. Needless to say a few days later, the little girl came home from school on a crisp autumn afternoon excited because she new her best girl friend was coming for a sleep over. She could barely contain herself when she saw her friend sitting at the table, in fact, she was so excited that she never even noticed the answer to her prayer laying quietly by the kitchen stove. She wondered why everyone around her was laughing and pointing towards that area of the kitchen, when all of the sudden out of the corner of her baby blue eyes she caught a glimpse of a small brown furry creature starring right back at her with two big black shinny pieces of coal for eyes and a thumping tail, for it was hitting the stove at a mile a minute. “A dog, you got me a dog,” she screamed, “thank-you, thank-you,” and privately she whispered, “Thank-you Jesus.”

Uggie, her new best friend, was a mixture of Lhasa Apso and Shih Tzu, and would prove to be a very loyal and loving companion for many years. The little girl’s loneliness was now a thing of the past. Who was this coal miner’s daughter you might ask, well that little girl was me and not only did I learn that prayer was a power thing but I learned the wonderful companionship that our four footed friends could provide. These lessons are ones that I will never forget for as long as I live, nor will I forget the chain of events that changed my life forever.

Uggie passed on about a year after I grew my added appendage, Brutus, and though Brutus was a young pup at the time, he loved his older brother very much and was saddened by his passing. However, as younger brothers will do, Brutus, with a new found sense of honor and loyalty, took over the job of faithful companion and ever-dutiful cheesecake taste tester. Brutus is fifteen years old now and still fulfilling his honored role and I will forever and always be grateful to that stray dog, Lucky, that day for teaching me the true meaning of a friend and the assurance that I can always trust Jesus to hear me when I call. I have a friend in Brutus because I first found a friend in Jesus. J