If You Spell God Backwards, You'll Get Man's Best Friend...

...and when this life is over, man, that ain't gonna end....

I almost didn't get this post written. I've spent the day cycling back and forth between fighting tears and giving into them.

I'd like to tell you about Joe Bob, one of my favorite real life characters.

Joe Bob came to the local shelter as an approximately six-month-old stray; he was cute and playful, so he was adopted quickly. I'm not sure what went wrong, but that first family mysteriously and suddenly became allergic to dogs, and Joe Bob found himself back at the shelter. He was still young enough for a second try, though, cute and super playful, so he was adopted again. The thing was, that second family got tired of chasing him down the street every time he escaped their backyard...and they gave up on him.

I've always thought that second family wanted an outside dog, which could never work because Joe Bob is an inside dog, an absolute social butterfly; he needs people, needs company. He likes to be right in the middle of everything, and he needed a family who would train him, watch out for him. A family with the dedication to win his loyalty, who would curb his escape tactics with patience rather than violence.

He needed someone with staying power, because dogs only get so many chances to leave the shelter, and we were Joe Bob's third shot. Very probably his last chance. So on a brisk November afternoon, Joe Bob got a new name and a family that promised never to give up. 

On November 2, 2012, a clumsy, hyperactive, bright-eyed, gentle giant of a puppy named Joe Bob absolutely bulldozed my then-three-year-old, placed both paws on her little shoulders, and proceeded to lick as much of her face as he could reach, as many times as he could manage. Two very magical things happened in that moment. One, he didn't knock her over, though he outweighed her by nearly 30 pounds. And two, he greeted her in absolute silence, which is likely the only way he managed not to scare her half to death. She's on the spectrum and at that time was very sensitive to loud noises - one bark could have changed everything.

Now, I don't like to make accusations about Joe Bob's previous families, but I will say that when he came into my life, he was too terrified to ever make a sound. No barking, no whimpers, no growling. Not a peep. For that whole first year, even the most slightly raised voice would have him trembling in a corner, his tail tucked under his belly, big brown eyes wide with fear. We called him Chance, because he needed one. What's crazy about his story is that I gave him the name, but he gave me the start.

I wrote my first novel with this red-headed hound at my feet, and he's been next to me through every writing project I've embarked on since. He's seen nine published books, four address changes, two divorces, and countless friends who came and went over the years. He soaked up tears when my grandmother and both of my parents died in less than three years' time. He was steadfast when I felt abandoned or discouraged, energetic when I otherwise wouldn't have gotten out of bed, and an incredible, unfailing friend to both my children.

We've never known exactly how old he was, but the best guess right now is somewhere between 14-16 years, and he's spent every second of that time in faithful and loyal service to my daughters and I. Right now he's curled up next to me, but I know that we're closing in on the last time. He's gone white in the face and gray-haired with age. He's covered in skin tags and fatty tumors, and if I don't keep balm on his nose it gets all crusty and dry. He doesn't play much anymore, though he still loves to be petted in just the right spots.

He can still get outside to do what needs doing...but he's moving slower and slower these days and he's almost always a little out of breath. Sometimes he loses his balance and stumbles. Increasingly often, he refuses food. I'm not sharing wins this week, although there were a few. I don't know if I'll share any next week either...most likely, I will instead be sharing a devastating loss.

When I can, I'll still be writing - and as always, feel free to check the sidebar graphics for book updates at any time. Whatever happens, whenever it happens, I'll still be here, learning to...

*song lyric from "All Dogs Go To Heaven," Chris Young