Bounder reminded us, a couple of days ago, that we need to get serious again about blog entries. He did it unknowingly, the way our animals usually speak to us about the love of God.
It was the first of the month: time for his heartworm medication. We took out one of the fudgelike rectangles containing the agent that prevents parasites from tunneling into his heart and insidiously killing him. He was sprawled on the living room floor in one of his accustomed spots, waiting for something to happen, when he heard the words "Bounder! Treat!" He leapt up, tail waving, eyes fixed expectantly on us, sat when told to, and delightedly scarfed down the morsel. He immediately looked for another but accepted "That's all" and went back to waiting for the next thing to happen.
Two minutes earlier, he had no idea he would get a treat. He had no opportunity to anticipate and enjoy the anticipation, nor to get impatient or exaggerate to himself how good it would be. He accepted it joyfully and unquestioningly. Neither did Bounder have any idea of the reason for the "treat." To him, it was just an unexpected blessing. He has no idea that its transitory goodness is just a side benefit: its real purpose is to keep him well.
Nor does he understand the same purpose behind the unexpectedly disagreeable times when we take him to the vet or get his nails clipped. He experiences subjectively - joy or sorrow - what we, objectively, know to be all parts of the same love and care for him.
How many times, Lord, do you surprise us the same way? So many moments of unexpected pleasure that we are hardly aware of them. We are much more aware when events unexpectedly inconvenience, annoy, or pain us. Yet we must believe that both types of surprise are evidences of Your love for us. Help us accept both in the same unquestioning spirit with which our animals put their trust in us - for You are so much more worthy of that trust.
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