When I found out it was International Dog Day, I couldn’t resist. Y’all know I’m a sucker for a dog, so I thought we’d have a quick talk about them today. We all need happy things to think about and there’s not much of anything that makes us happier than our pups. 

Growing up, we had outside dogs. I didn’t really know many people who had dogs that actually lived inside their houses. It was more of a common thing then than it is now to just have a nice dog house in the backyard and everybody seemed happy with the arrangement- dog included. Daddy built ours. It was painted to match our house and had a shingled roof and a little front porch- the works. A dog really couldn’t ask for nicer accommodations. On cold nights, we’d make sure they had help to stay warm with extra hay or whatever was needed. There just wasn’t any way a dog was going to live in my mother’s house, the queen of clean. She, especially, was of the belief that animals should live outside where God intended.  

So, when Davis and I got married, we got two Bassett Hounds. I’d always wanted a Bassett as I’ve had an enduring soft spot for dogs with big ears as long as I can remember. They were sisters. Cleo and Maxine. Because of how I was raised, Cleo and Maxine had a lovely dog house in our nice fenced backyard and that’s where they stayed. Every now and then, I’d get the urge to bring them in for a little bit and I’d go get a blanket and spread it out on the floor to protect it from their rather enormous feet. They’d lie on the blanket and we’d love on them and then it was back outside they’d go. 

When the kids got a little older, we decided it was time to get a little dog for them. Cleo and Maxine were gone and we thought they needed to have a pet. That’s when we got our little Sugar- the dachshund with the traveling salesman chihuahua daddy. We’d just moved into our new house and I wasn’t planning on bringing a dog into it to live. I just wasn’t used to that concept. But, since she was so little, we put her small dog house in the garage right by the door so she’d stay warm and be safe at night. The kids would be like- “please, can Sugar come inside?” I’d say, “Ok, if you hold her and don’t put her down.” Then, it was- “ok, she can sleep in the laundry room in her kennel and go outside during the day.” Then it was- “ok, whatever.” Sugar lived out the remaining 95% of her life as an inside dog. God rest her sweet angel soul. I still can’t look at her picture without crying.

Ruby comes on the scene as our beloved rescued stray- the dog, who’d been actually living out in the elements all of her life and could’ve fared very well outdoors, came straight in as an inside dog. She had no earthly idea how to behave as an inside dog. We would’ve done just as well to go out and get a large zoo animal and bring it in to live with us. She was barbaric, I tell you, but we worked through our issues albeit rather slowly. 

So, we’ve gone from a dog house in the backyard to a dog house in the garage to a kennel in the laundry room to this. 

I went to a funeral on Sunday. It was for the sweet mother of one of my high school friends. She was a most precious woman and I have a lot of sweet memories of her through the years. She was a true Southern lady and it was always a special treat for me to run into her and get to catch up and visit. There’s just something so dear about those friends’ mothers from our younger days, who looked after us like we were their own. There were even those who teetered on qualifying as emergency contacts because of how often we were at their houses. They were our other moms and it hits the heart hard when they leave us. 

The minister did a beautiful service and, in keeping with tradition, we stood as the family left following the casket to go to the cemetery. As we were standing quietly- respecting the family’s loss- my little Mama reached over and put her arm around me. Her arm doesn’t seem like it comes up as high on me as it once did. We didn’t make eye contact, but I knew we were both thinking the same thing as we watched my friend and her sister leaving with their mother, one last time. One day, one of us will leave the other. We never know how life will play out, but if things go in natural order, she will leave me. And there I’ll be- without a Mama. I wasn’t ready to think about that yet and my eyes teared for my friend and also at the thought of losing the little woman who was hugged up to me. 

I’ve had this quote on my camera roll for a while. I’m not sure who Chelsea is, but her words touched me and I wanted to save them. While I can’t relate to them yet, I’m sure some of you can. 

Shifting gears. 

I’ve been to a plastic surgeon’s office, a couple of times, in the last week. I wish I could tell you that it was to have my eyelids done or my neck tightened, but it wasn’t nearly that glamorous or beneficial. I just had a little harmless cyst removed from my scalp that was bothering me. It was really probably more along the lines of an episode of Dr. Pimple Popper than The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills. Anyway, as I sat in the office waiting to get my stitches removed, a poster on the wall caught my eye. You can see all kinds of enticing products being promoted at the plastic surgeon’s office- treatments of much greater interest than those statin drug posters over at the GP’s place. 

Well, this one was an advertisement for fillers to support your natural expression or resting face as it’s more commonly known. Well, this really piqued my interest, because I’ve known for quite some time that I have a very unwelcoming resting face. Not unlike a rabid Doberman. I became keenly aware of this flaw when I’d watch our church service, after the fact, on Facebook. I sing in the choir and, while certainly not meaning to, my resting face has the warmth of a death row prison guard. I guess I can’t help it- it’s just my natural expression at rest. At least, I know that treatments are now available. Just look how much more pleasant these people look. I’ll be working this into my conversations with Davis to see how he takes to the idea of paying for me to look like a more likable person. 

I feel like maybe all of our resting faces have become a bit more droopy as of late. There’s just a lot going on that can weigh our faces down. Personally, I have so many friends who have some really heavy things going on in their lives. Serious surgery, Covid, grief, cancer, divorce. And I have teacher friends who are going back to school in this crazy confusion. Nurse and doctor friends who are exhausted in every way a person can be exhausted. Parents are frustrated. Citizens are frustrated. Employees are frustrated. It seems like a lot of us are on edge- on the brink of either tears or a tantrum. We could probably all use some intervention with our resting faces about now. 

If the world has ever needed to see our fruit of the Spirit, it’s now. Everyone is so desperately hungry for just kind, simple words and a little grace in this confrontational and super-critical place we find ourselves. Where there is hate, we should be that voice that speaks with love. Where there is despair, we should share the flame of joy. Where there is conflict, we should be the representative for peace. Where there is impatience, we should demonstrate patience. Where there is cruelty, we should bring the warmth of kindness. Where there is evil, we should counter with goodness. Where there is disloyalty, we should stand strong in faithfulness. Where there is viciousness, we should offer gentleness. And where there is indiscipline, we should model self-control. I know that’s what I should do, but I’ll be the first to admit that’s not always my “natural expression.”  Lord, help me do the hard things. 

Y’all have a great weekend! Stay safe! 

JONI