Oldest excuse in the book, right?
(Jennifer, you probably don't want to read this one.)
(Jennifer is Mocha's previous owner.)
Even though Mocha (our new 4-yr-old chocolate lab) didn't technically eat my blog, she did eat up all the time I had to blog by going on a little run without me or her collar through the streets of my zip-code. A brown dog running in the road at dusk. Thinking it was a big game. Real fun.
I was just taking her for a quick potty break before I left for our last session of the Beth Moore Bible study, when she wrapped herself around a tree and got her collar off before I could do anything about it. And she was off.
In the right setting, it's a beautiful thing to watch this dog run. It usually makes me so happy, even to the point of rejoicing a little, that she can use her legs and lungs the way she was created. When she has boundaries, her freedom is healthy. When she doesn't, it isn't.
I won't take you on the fright fest that was the 30 minutes I spent chasing her across busy streets, through snowy yards in the wrong shoes, being told by strangers "You'd better catch her," and around dumpsters where she dined on things I'm pretty sure no living thing should ingest. I just cried and prayed that the same God who made the donkey talk to Balaam and the bear eat Elijah's tormenters would make my dog come back. And finally, the lure of the dumpster and some young girls who saw the action and came to help brought her close enough and still enough to grab. I said it then and I'll say it now. Thank you, Abba!
I got to the study late and we started late and finished late, so my blog tonight isn't what I planned about Baby F's mom and our growing relationship, but it's actually probably a better topic for tomorrow after our visitation. Until then, good night and watch out for dogs in the road.