First of all, to those who commented on the last post, thank you. I have decided to keep this blog private and, if and when I have the time, I might start another less personal blog. But, for now, this blog will remain a moment's rest within the very full day. I confess to quaking in my boots a little when I think of the kids' photos and stories out there on the big, bad web. I tend to be a little paranoid but I do sleep much better at night knowing that no one is tracing my kids' pictures to their home address. Also, I need to respect their privacy. They know about all that I post (especially the twins who love to read the blog and laugh and laugh and laugh). I think of this blog as our photo album and I hope to one day find a way to print it out and put it in a hard copy format for us and our extended families. It has been a real blessing to regularly record our life together and these years in which the kids are growing up far too fast.
Now, onto a story.
Most of you know that we have a dog called Sammy. We also have a son called Jacob. Both of these, in two different senses, belong to Dave. Sometimes Dave doesn't like to admit to 'ownership'. Last Sunday might have been one of those days.
On Sundays Jacob runs from our house to church, a distance of 2 km, in order to serve mass. Our priest requires all altar servers to arrive at least 15 minutes prior to the start of mass; thus, Jacob's early start. We, sans Jacob, leave for mass in order to arrive 5-10 minutes before the official beginning. Last Sunday Jacob left at around 10:30am for an 11am start. At about 11:40 we started to put on our winter clothes and pack ourselves in the van. I am usually the last one out as I grab the diaper bag, soothers and make a last minute rest stop. While I did my before-mass review, Dave called back in the house wondering if I knew where Sammy was. I quickly looked around the house and, not seeing Sammy, I responded that he must be in the backyard. And then we left for mass.
When we pulled into the parking lot my eye was caught by an unusual sight on the church steps. There was a boy and there was a dog. In fact, there was a boy with a dog. An average sized boy with a very large dog. The overly exuberant dog was being restrained by a boy that was quickly looking smaller than an average boy. My first thought was, "Will you look at that? Jacob found a dog and is holding him for his owner." And then I realised that I was one of the owners of that overly large, overly exuberant dog. "Oh," I thought, "That's Sammy." My heart sank just a little.
For those of you who are unfamiliar with our family pet, shall I just use the description, ummm, overly friendly. Add to that overly big and you have a good picture of a somewhat stupid animal who really likes people and, thus, is able to significantly harm unsuspecting visitors with his amorous welcomes. We regularly lock him in rooms when people come to the door.
I could only imagine what sort of injuries the average church lady would suffer when greeted by this domestic pet. "Oh, dear God," I prayed, "I hope that he hasn't hurt anyone."
Jacob had clearly been watching for our van and, when he saw the red Sienna pull into the lot, he came running over half dragged by the dog whose collar he was holding. Jacob was smiling and laughing which partly reassured me that all church ladies were still intact. Somehow someone asked what had happened and we realised that the back gate had been left unlocked and Sammy had embarked on the biggest adventure of his life running free through the streets of our town in pursuit of his little master. He must have had the time of his life.
With only five minutes until the start of mass, Dave barricaded Sammy in the back of the van, left the window down a crack and left him for the duration of mass. Jacob later told us the full story in which he caught sight of "something yellow streaking behind him madly." Yes, those were his words. He says that he noticed Sammy about halfway to church and thought that if he ran faster Sammy might decide to turn around. Clearly he has little understanding of a Golden Retriever in pursuit of his master. Not surprisingly, Jacob never once considered turning back home and bringing the dog back to our house. Rather, he said that he decided that he would find someone with a cell phone and call us from the church so that we could come and take the dog home. Apparently he carried this plan out as one of the men at the church saw the young altar server with his dog and offered the use of his phone. By this point we were already on our way and Jacob was forced to abandon his plan and wait on the steps of the church greeting all who dared enter there.
And so ends my story. Sammy survived his first (and last) mass and, as one friend whispered to us as we processed out, "I didn't know you were so Franciscan." Neither did we.
4 comments:
There is a service that lets you turn your blog into a book. I know someone who did that for her twin girls. I'll ask her what it was and get back to you.
That story is remarkable. Now I don't have a dog, nor have I ever, nor will I ever, so I don't know anything about dog-behavior, and I don't know if this is normal, but it seems so regal and un-dog like. I picture Sammy running along with the Chariots of Fire music playing, his golden fur flapping majestically. It's rather poetic.
Jenna, the man with the phone was your husband's boss. And, I too hear the music when picturing Sammy running past Metro. However, the music is ominous.
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