Good Boy

Charlie’s love for people

I’ve got the best dog in the world. Better than any other dog I’ve ever owned. Better than your dog. Better than all the other dogs on the planet.

The proof? What’s a dog’s natural number one priority? Food. Put a dish of kibble on the floor, and a normal dog will tune out everything around him. He’ll go face down in that dish and stay there until it’s licked clean. No human being on earth can draw him away from his greatest love: food.

Some dogs will even risk their lives for a treat. I was in a vet’s office several years ago when a woman walked in with a grizzled old beagle. The dog was there to get some stitches removed from her chest. She had tried to steal a tasty morsel from a hound half her age and three times her size. Food is everything to most dogs (especially the beagles that I’ve known).

But not my dog. Not Charlie. Yes, he enjoys eating. He gets mildly excited a few minutes before dinner (as opposed to the hour or more of a beagle’s restless anticipation time). As dumb as he is, it didn’t take him long to learn to recognize the signals that indicate that I’m going to feed him soon. He’ll never starve to death for lack of interest.

But unlike most dogs, his number one priority, his greatest love, isn’t food. It’s people.

One day I brought Judy home with me at Charlie’s feeding time. The first thing I did after we came in the door was to get Charlie’s dinner ready for him. Filled the dish, set it on the floor. Judy was surprised when Charlie ignored his kibble and continued befriending her. His joy was obvious in his wagging tail, his perked-up ears, his eager attention. This was just normal behavior for Charlie, but Judy was amazed and impressed. She’d never met a dog who preferred people over food.

My love for people

So how do I compare to Charlie? Do I love human beings above all other material things on this planet, as he does?

No. Unlike Charlie, I don’t always communicate joy in spending time with someone. Sometimes my thoughts and eyes wander. Sometimes my shoulders slump. Sometimes I find myself stifling a yawn. I seem to love the things that bring me comfort more than I love those around me. Sometimes I resent talking on the phone or visiting someone in need when my to-do list is weighing me down. If Charlie was human, he wouldn’t do that.

When I’m out shopping, I don’t always take the time to ask the cashier how her day is going and listen to her response. Sometimes I expect her to give me all the attention. Isn’t that what she gets paid for—making the customer happy? Other times I wish she’d just hurry up and finish the job so I can get home as soon as possible. If Charlie was human, he wouldn’t do that.

The most important part of our spiritual lives is our relationship with God. The most important part of our physical lives is our relationships with other people. Charlie provides an illustration of that. Jesus gives us an even better one. But do I live as if it’s true?

And it’s not just those I already know or those whose names are on my schedule for the day. Charlie has no choice about who walks in our front door. He makes no plans for himself. As far as he can tell, the selection of guests is totally random. He simply enjoys whoever comes his way. Do I do the same with the “random” people God places in my life?

Charlie doesn’t care what a visitor believes about politics or religion or even dogs. He just lets them know that he loves them. How much do I allow my personal opinions to limit my love for others? It isn’t easy to have a meaningful conversation with someone if we can’t agree on important issues.

Maybe I should follow Charlie’s example more often and let the other person lead the way. Charlie makes it clear that he wants to be with you, but he humbly accepts his place if you tell him to back off. I need to be honest about my faith and my beliefs, but is it my place to continue expressing them when the other person is clearly ready to move on? Or should I humbly back off and simply listen? Which choice springs from love and which one springs from self?

Charlie’s limits

I have to admit that Charlie isn’t perfect, though. He does get in trouble on rare occasions (see “Bad Boy”), and he can be annoying when he detects an interesting new scent on my clothes and wants to spend the next three hours sniffing it.

And I wonder whether Charlie would sacrifice for others as much as we humans are capable of doing. I know he would risk his life to defend me against any violent attack. Most adults would do the same for those they love. It’s an instinctual, spur-of-the-moment behavior.

But if, for some reason, Charlie went without food for three or four days, would he still give all his attention to a new friend when that next meal finally appeared? I’m not so sure that he would. On the other hand, some people live lives of continual, long-term sacrifice. Many, like Mother Teresa, consciously and willingly deny their own needs in order to minister to others for days and weeks and months and years. I’m not sure Charlie could do that.

In spite of his shortcomings, visitors who come to my house, especially at dog-feeding time, always express amazement at Charlie’s love for people. I pray that those who know me would see that same kind of love in me.