Citizen's Arrest!

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My name is Yankee and I would like to file a report with somebody. This is a disgrace, and being only 8 pounds and very short, there's not a lot I can do about it.

That inelegant ca-nine my family brought home a couple years ago has done it again. She's nothing but a Big Red Troublemaker. I keep hoping she will finally leave, but no...she's still here, thinking we can be friends. Ha!

My people certainly overlook a lot where she's concerned and I find it offensive. Just look at her....playing innocent. Gets to them every time.


Now consider me for a moment. Perfect in every way, beautiful beyond comprehension, and doing a fine job running this household if I do say so myself. Do I run off when they're not looking? Of course not! Never!

Besides the fact that there are despicable street dogs who live down the road, I would never think to set one dainty paw outside the yard. Because as I told you, I always do the right thing. At least, right to me. 

I'm fairly obedient when they ask me to do something I want to do, I share my food dish with the red beast when I have to, and I never do anything wrong, but do they praise me for it? Ha! Take me for granted is what they do.

Again today, the red monster took off across the field as soon as my mistress turned her back. I watched her go and shook my head in disgust, knowing what will happen. Will they lock the doors and call the pound? No! They'll let her come back, scold her a teensy bit, and forgive her. She'll be back on my couch, lying on my cushion, eating my food and drinking my water before nightfall. And they don't understand why I don't like her.

Sure enough, after a couple of hours, there she was. On the patio, stickers in her fur, looking sheepish. And what do they do? Scold her, comb out the stickers, and let her right back in! If they had a fatted calf, they'd probably kill it too and throw her a party!

All I can say is, I hope you humans aren't like that. When someone offends you, I hope you drive them away forever, refuse to let them apologize, and remain as haughty as possible all your days. That would be the right thing to do, the Yankee thing to do. If I was human, that's what I'd do.

Let's face it, there are just some dogs--and humans--who don't deserve a second chance. Or third or fourth, as is the case with What's-Her-Name.

So to those of you who refuse to forgive, harbor resentment in your hearts, and let outright hate fester inside towards people who've offended you---I'm proud of you! You should be proud of yourself, too. You're my kind of human. Right on my level.

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It's Not Rocket Science

It's me writing today. Babe.

I need to file a complaint.

These people I live with, they expect the IMPOSSIBLE! They're always throwing new words at me, expecting me to know what to do.

Now I won't argue with the fact that we Irish gals aren't famous for our intellect, but c'mon...

For example, ever since I got here, they've been speaking human words to me as though I speak human.

That word "sit" they're so crazy about. How am I supposed to remember that it has to do with the position of my hindquarters?

And that other word, "sit." What's that about?

As if I'm not confused enough, they hurl other random words at me like "sit," "sit", and "sit." You see my point?

I try. I really do, but their demands are ridiculous. Orders flying at me all day long, sometimes they even wake me up! I've started to wonder if they care about me at all, or if they just like bossing me around.

Just yesterday, I heard a new one: "sit." Now what does that mean?

They start shoving on my backside until it lands on the floor and then they praise me like I danced a jig. I still don't know what they want. Life is very confusing when you are beautiful and... well, beautiful.

But I noticed something about you humans as well.

I hear you all talking about God giving you commands and how hard it is to follow them. You get downright fussy about some of them, acting like our Creator doesn't know what He's talking about. You argue back and forth about whether he really meant what he said, whether you'll be in big trouble if you disobey, and how you don't think he truly cares.

I so understand. I feel the same way about my masters. But my question is: If you humans don't want to obey your Master, why are you so aggravated when I feel the same about you?

Hey, Babe

She's supposed to be an outside watchdog.

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Clearly, she's not outside and... does this face scare you?

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If the burglars would be so kind as to wear bird suits and pretend to fly, she'd be a force to contend with. Otherwise, she's about as useful as a parka in Tahiti.

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Knowing that our multi-purpose mutt, Spunky, was near permanent retirement, we got Babe to replace him outside. Spunky has been a 15-year barking machine and no criminal with half a brain would challenge his backyard. Living in the country, we feel safer with a barking dog outside at night. Preferably one who could tell the difference between a criminal and a squirrel. But Babe...well, let's just say that intelligence isn't everything. And courage is overrated.

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She gets lonely at night. She's scared of the dark. And anyone approaching the yard might be a potential friend, so she'd hate to offend.

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She slinks around with a guilty look on her face and if we so much as raise our voices in laughter, she rushes to confess her crime. She obviously has emotional issues dating back to puppyhood, with which we were in no way involved. She was 3 years old when we got her, so any neurosis is NOT our fault.

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Things don't always turn out like we plan.

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Spunky is still kicking. Babe lives in the house and only barks to be let in. She worships our two boys with a passion almost eerie, and every stranger is greeted with slobbering devotion. The shedding which I'd carefully avoided with my Maltese is now a regular part of life and we still don't have a replacement watchdog.

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Sometimes we do things for one reason and the result is nothing like we expected. We roll with the punches, make lemonade, or whatever cliche you choose to use. The best part is God's promise that He will make everything turn out for the good, if we love Him. The darkest night, the deepest sorrow, the biggest hurdle---it doesn't matter. When it is God's, He can twist ugly twine into a beautiful bow.

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"What would we do without Babe?" my youngest son asked as he wrapped his arms around her patient neck.

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Before I could start my list, he hugged her tight. "One look at that face, Mom, and you can't stay mad at her no matter what she did."

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I swept more red hair off the floor and watched them, boy and dog, lying together on the floor, content just being side by side. We don't have a watchdog, but my son has a friend. A responsibility. A practice in patience for parenthood some day.

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He's right. What would we do without Babe? And what would we do without all those unexpected twists and turns life hands us? Those valleys that end in mountaintops. Those detours that take us past undiscovered beauty. All those opportunities for God to take our snarled balls of twine and make bows out of them.

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What's the Babe in your world? That situation that didn't turn out like you thought it would. The decision. The detour. The upside-down, out-of-the-blue shock?

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Let God have it. One day you will look back on it and find yourself saying, "What would I do without it?"

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Will I Ever Get it Right?

Well, Babe was at it again.

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Just when we thought we could trust her to stay within our fenced 2 1/2 acres while we were outside with her, she vanished. Like a puff of smoke--one minute we see her romping through the tall grass and the next, she is gone.

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After calling in vain for 15 minutes, I was ready to find a recipe for Irish Setter stew.

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She made her appearance a couple of hours later, on the front porch, tongue lolling, smelling of pond water, sticker burrs embedded in her fur, and refusing to make eye contact. She's not the brightest bulb on the string, but she knew she was in trouble.

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She took her scolding and banishment to the backyard without the usual indignant bark and sulked under the trampoline until we had calmed down.

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I found her escape hole in the fence and fixed it, muttering uncomplimentary dog insults all the while.

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"We can't trust her anymore," Micah announced. "She doesn't get to go out the front door ever again."

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I agreed. For a while.

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Then those saggy, pleading eyes got to me. "We'll try it," I said. "I'll watch her like a hawk."

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We did. She never ventured near the escape hole. She watched us with eager eyes as though hoping she was doing right this time. Every few minutes, she would interrupt her romp to come charging back to us, eager for praise--which she got.

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She could disappoint us again, we're aware of that. But as long as she's trying, she deserves another chance to get it right.

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Do you owe someone in your life a second chance? Or a third, fourth or fifth chance? Babe's just a dimwitted dog, but even in her, I sense an eagerness to earn our forgiveness. She wants a chance to prove she can do it and be praised and loved for it.

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People are the same way. How quickly we give up on them, turn our heads and shrug: "Well, if that's how you are, forget it. You don't deserve my attention. You've blown it."

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I'm thankful God never says that to me. I mess up over and over, sometimes on the same things, but he's always there to pick me up, point me in the right direction, and offer complete confidence that this time I can do it.

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Babe's still getting her daily romps as long as she stays within the guidelines. And as long as we're seeking to please God, he offers us as many chances as it takes to succeed.

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Have you given up on yourself in some area? Decided you'll never get it right, so why try? Is there someone in your life who needs another chance from you?

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God hasn't given up on any of us, so we don't have the right to give up either. If Babe can do it, anyone can!

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Whose Got the Purina?

My 6-pound Maltese put on 2 more pounds the month after we got Babe.
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Suddenly, her food dish was filled with way more food than she could eat. But she tried anyway. Standing guard night and day, she ate as much as she could hold, trying to keep Babe from getting any. Nine months later, she's still at it.

It's not possible to reason with a piece of fluff whose brain is not much bigger than a quarter, so I've given up. But it's aggravating to watch her spend her days lying on the floor by her full dish on the chance that Babe will try to get a bite to eat. Her life would be so much fuller if she wasn't preoccupied with preventing something she really can't control.
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As I refilled the dish today from the giant sack of Purina, I thought how much like Yankee we are. We stand guard over our treasures, our lives, afraid to invest ourselves in the lives of others for fear there won't be anything left for us. We hunker down with our nose to the grindstone, competing for that prize, looking out for number one, because maybe nobody's looking out for us.
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And all the time, God watches us with his big bag of Purina, ready to keep us filled if we'd just get out of the way. He's got an endless supply of everything we need. Investing ourselves in others doesn't deplete the supply in any way. There's always more when we need it.

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It's not only money we're stingy with. Our time, our schedules, our talents can all be poured out over and over again, and like the widow's oil, our lives stay full.

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Yankee may never learn where all that dog food comes from, but we can learn. God says, "Try me now and see. I will open up the windows of Heaven and you will have so much you can't hold it all."

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So, how do you spend your days? Are you lying beside your food dish or do you know Who's keeping it filled?

A Lament from Babe Ruth

Hello. This is Babe again. Since it's the weekend, my mom let me have the computer. Well...actually, she's in bed and unless I leave paw prints on the keys, what she don't know won't hurt her. Or me.

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I have a problem. I just wanna know why my boy I love so dearly won't let me sleep on his bed with him. I thought that was my job. I came here to keep him company in his big room by himself, but do I get to share the nice soft bed?

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NO-O-O... I get the ratty blanket on the floor and I just wanna know why.

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I'm warm, they keep the stickers mostly out of my fur, and I love to cuddle. Absolutely LOVE to cuddle.

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That first night I was all ready for bed and I got to stay maybe...maybe three minutes total! Can you believe that? Three minutes!

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So what that I tend to drool a bit, I kick in my sleep, and prefer to lay ON my boy rather than beside him? Is that any reason to banish me to the cold lonely floor?

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I've scratched my ears repeatedly over this, shoved my nose in his neck when he's asleep, and moaned mournfully but he won't budge. I gaze with great longing at the nice soft comforter and imagine my big beautiful paw prints all over it, making it nice and comfy. How I would slowly crawl up his legs after he goes to sleep until we are curled like two puppies in a pile.

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I accepted it without complaint when Mom banned me from the new living room sofa. I've stopped jumping on her bed since she makes such a big fuss over it. That's just the kind of dog I am. But this...

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This I cannot accept and I will continue to express my sorrow over this cruel decision until he gives in. Every night I forget I can't sleep up there and I leap joyfully onto OUR bed and curl up in a tight ball on his pillow, hoping he won't notice me. But he always does and down to the floor I go.

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Does this sound fair to you? Here I am, loyal and true, loving and faithful. I come mostly when I'm called and hardly ever grab food off the counter...well, not usually...

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If you are as outraged as I am, join me in my crusade for fairness. Let him know how you feel. Maybe there is justice out there somewhere in this cold, cruel world.

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Bark once if you agree!

Update from Babe McCombs

Hello. This is Babe again.
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I thought I'd check in with all you people who visit my mom's blog.
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I see her over here every day, typing away, and I wonder what she's saying about me. I decided I might need to defend myself. My boy says I'm paranoid, but I don't know what that means. I think it means I like birds.
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I want you to know, whatever Mom tells you that I do--it's not true. I'm a good dog (usually) and there is way too much emphasis on being smart these days. Intelligence is not all there is to life. If these people would stop throwing new commands at me all the time, maybe I could get one right. Those human words go right out of my head the minute I hear them, but they still expect me to know what to do.
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Take that "sit" business, for example. What's the big deal about me sitting? In the first place, I can't remember what it means and in the second place...I can't remember the second place...
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I had these photos taken as proof of what a spiritual dog I really am. As you can see, I choose to rest on the Word every chance I get. I would never chew up the Bible, but I do like to lay on it.

I just love Bible time at our homeschool. I get so excited when Mom starts reading aloud I just have to crunch my food and lap water right then. For some reason, they yell at me. I want to make them happy, so I quietly tiptoe over to my squeaky toy and chew on it.
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They don't like that either.See how hard they are to please?
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I'm very proud of the fact that I know how to make my toy squeak whenever I want to and Yankee doesn't. She acts like she doesn't care, but I see her giving me the haughty eye when I squeak away on our new Christmas toy. She can fetch and I can't, but fetching is not as smart as squeaking.
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I show my people all the time how smart I am. I squeak my toy while they watch movies, when they pray at the dinner table, and when they have quiet conversations. They all start shouting my name at once. I think that means they like it and it makes me proud.
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The most important thing is that I'm a happy dog who would do anything for my people--if I just knew what it was they wanted. I can't make heads or tails of those words they use, but when they speak to me, I just assume I did something bad. I show them how sorry I am by cowering down and licking their hands and in a few minutes, they're hugging me and telling me I'm a good dog. It works out great.
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So I hope you can see what a fine dog I am and anything that Mom may tell you in the future about me, just ignore it like I do the word "come."



Ya'll have a great weekend and may you catch every bird you chase!


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