Once Upon a Time There Was a Dog

She was beautiful. Long white fur. Adoring face. Best friend. Protector. A giant snow cone with black eyes. Always ready to run away.

I found her in Anchorage, Alaska, under "pets for sale." "Kuvasz pups. Reg. 10wks. Husband going moose hunting. Must sell dogs NOW."

We had been reading that this breed might provide perfect companions for our three young children. Kuvasz come from Hungary where they were bred to provide predator control for shepherds and to be guard dogs for the kings. "They can be ferocious in protecting family members," the books read.

So I drove across Anchorage, found the house, met the family, and fell in love.

Arctic Shadow, we called her, and she howled for six days straight, loud wails calling for Northern Lights and cold snow. All we could offer was cool straw and puppy formula. ...And slobbery kisses from three children who thought Shadow was the most beautiful person they had ever met.

On the seventh day, she gave in, and we all rested.

Shadow ruled our home for 16 years, guarding kids and parents through High School. She howled at football games and ran like a wildebeest whenever she could slip her leash. Each morning she joined on our morning two-miler, listening in on the personal challenges of raising a family in America.

When I was sad, she laid her head in my lap and stared me to peace.

When I hugged one of the family a little too tightly, she would howl her way between us. Always the peacemaker.

She was also a frustrated Mother, bearing 20 pups and then begging us to care for them while she rested in the corner.

She was always the first to greet me when I came home, til the night she couldn't get up anymore. That night she whined for me to hold her. I did, remembering long runs in the mountains, playing with puppies in the back yard, listening to strangers "Oooooh," and "Aaaah" at her beauty, and listening to our kids proudly tell everyone about their Arctic Shadow.

Shadow's gone now, but our memories are real, and almost everything I know about her tells me more about God. All but two things: God doesn't run away, and God isn't gone.

"I will comfort you," His letters read, "I will accept you, embrace you, run ahead of you, come back to check on you, and love you. Regardless!"

Dick Duerksen
Assistant Vice President
Mission development
Florida Hospital