Susy Flory - Dog Tales: Inspirational Stories of Humor, Adventure, and Devotion

SUSY FLORY

HARVEST HOUSE PUBLISHERS

EUGENE, OREGON

Unless otherwise indicated, Scripture quotations are taken from the Contemporary English Version 1991, 1992, 1995 by American Bible Society. Used with permission.

Verses marked NASB are taken from the New American Standard Bible, 1960, 1962, 1963, 1968, 1971, 1972, 1973, 1975, 1977, 1995 by The Lockman Foundation. Used by permission. (www.Lockman.org)

Verses marked NKJV are taken from the New King James Version. Copyright 1982 by Thomas Nelson, Inc. Used by permission. All rights reserved.

Names and minor details have been changed in Making the Rounds with Blackie to protect the privacy of the individuals mentioned.

Published in association with MacGregor Literary, Portland, Oregon

Cover photo iStockphoto / PK-Photos

Backcover author photo Flory Photo

Cover design by Left Coast Design, Portland, Oregon

DOG TALES

Copyright 2011 by Susy Flory
Published by Harvest House Publishers
Eugene, Oregon 97402
www.harvesthousepublishers.com

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Flory, Susy.

Dog tales / Susy Flory.

p. cm.

ISBN 978-0-7369-2987-5 (pbk.)

1. DogsAnecdotes. 2. Humananimal relationshipsAnecdotes. I. Title.

SF426.2.F56 2011

636.7dc22

2010047852

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any meanselectronic, mechanical, digital, photocopy, recording, or any otherexcept for brief quotations in printed reviews, without the prior permission of the publisher.

Printed in the United States of America

11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 / VP-NI / 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

For Doug Foxworthy, a dear friend, brother, and fellow dog lover, and his amazing wife, Sherry. Ill never forget our teams adventures in Cuba, including Dougs Spanglish, his crazy morning jogs in Havana while smoking a cigar and dodging Cuban troops, and the incredible miracle of Sandys torn pants.

Also, for Joe, Nannette, and Hunter.
Of all the stories in this book, yours most touched my heart.

Thanks to my familyRobert, Ethan, Teddy, and Momfor being ever patient as I told dog story after dog story around the kitchen table. Thanks for loving me, encouraging me, and celebrating with me. Boudin, anyone?

Angela, thanks for baking me a blackberry and apple pie at deadline time. You are a love.

Thanks to Chip MacGregor, agent extraordinaire, for sparking the idea for this book and for being a truth-teller and my voice of wisdom.

And to LaRae Weikert. Thanks for falling in love with this little dog book. Its an honor to work with you and the rest of the team at Harvest House.

To Barb Gordon, my editor and fellow cowgirl. Im grateful for your astute guidance and sharp pencil.

Hugs to my 9-1-1 crew, Tracy, Claire, Janet A, Shirley, Shannon, Bea, Janet C, and the whole Flory and Kuzmicky family. I could not have survived this past year without you.

Love to my prayer partners Diane, Anita, Gini, Barbara Sue, Kathi, Margaret, and Sara. I know you always have my back.

Thank you Mark, my pastor and friend. I appreciate your guidance and your prayers.

My dear friends at Neighborhood Church, thank you for being there in tangible ways for us this past year. Tammy, Annette, Rita, and Diane, I cherish your friendship and love you all.

And Jeannie, thanks for the gift of Sprinkles. She came at just the right time. She adds sunshine to our lives.

Dont worryIm here. The floodwaters will recede,
the famine will end, the sun will shine tomorrow,
and I will always be here to take care of you.

C HARLIE B ROWN TO S NOOPY

I had a blister on the back of my ankle recently. It was painful, the kind of blister that is raw and red. I earned it when I was in Dallas on a business trip, staying at a big hotel set up for large conventions. It was a beautiful place, with large echo-y atriums full of ivy, giant Buddhas, and elephant statues. Out back was a sculpture garden with bronze statues of children flying kites and catching butterflies. Around the sculpture garden was a jogging track with a synthetic springy surface that looked like a fresh slice of warm carrot cake with cream cheese frosting. ( Just from that simile you can probably understand why I needed to be out on that track, walking my double chin off.) Overlooking the garden, in a building separate from the hotel, was a gym.

One morning I was feeling particularly ambitious and I got up early, drank some juice, ate a banana, and pulled on my workout clothes. Just a few weeks before, I had run (I use the term run loosely) in my very first race, a 5K (approximately three miles) to benefit the sports program for my daughters high school. To prepare for the race, I had purchased an expensive pair of running socks with pads on the toes and ankles. The socks were a cool shade of silvery blue and green. I pranced through the atriums and deserted lobbies on my way to the gym. I was just a little bit proud of myself. Look at me. Im going to work out in my new padded running socks!

I headed out the back doors, and the hot and heavy air engulfed me. Whew. Im glad the gym is air-conditioned. Inside the building that housed the gym, I stretched my legs while I talked to the attendant. She directed me to sign in and then asked if I wanted the charge put on my hotel bill. Charge? I was dismayed when she explained that guests at the hotel had to pay for a workout. Irritated, I said, No thanks, turned on my padded running socks, and headed to the sculpture garden. Humph! Ill just work out for free on the carrot cake track.

I walked for a while to warm up and then began a slow jog. Every once in a while I stopped to adjust my iPod (meaning: to catch my breath) or take a drink of water (meaning: to try to stop breathing so hard). I sped up in the shade and slowed down in the sun and had a lovely time. For free. The only problem was that the heat caused my feet to swell a bit and my expensive socks slipped down, which meant my shoe rubbed the back of my ankle. It stung but I ignored it and kept going. After a few more laps, I headed inside. I started limping when I hit the Buddhas. When I passed the elephant statue I repented of my slight air of superiority about working out. And by the time I made it back to my room, it was clear I had a pretty nasty blister. You know what they sayeverythings bigger in Texas.

After a quick application of Neosporin and a Band-Aid, I went on with my day. Blisters heal slowly, and it still looked pretty nasty by the time I got home. I kept it covered with bandages and tried to forget about it.

The morning after I got home, I was standing in front of the mirror in my pink fuzzy robe and brushing my wet hair. I felt something strange on the back of my ankle. It didnt hurt exactly. It felt warm and tickly. I looked down and Sprinkles, our six-month-old silky terrier puppy, was licking my wound.

I wasnt sure whether to yell at her because it was kind of gross or just say, Aw, thank you, honey. Sprinkles was doing what dogs are born to dotake care of us. No one has really nailed down the definitive history of dogs. No one is quite sure who first domesticated the gray wolf, the ancestor of the dog, but for the last 15,000 years dogs have been used across the world for hunting, herding, protection, military purposes, and companionship. No other domesticated animal has earned the term mans best friend. Dogs and people just go together.