Another empty dish on the floor...

Just over 12 years ago, a colleague told me of a 7-month old Black Labrador being given away by a friend. I was at a place in my life where I really needed that faithful companionship so I went to look at him. The owner told me to go wait in the back yard and she’d let out the dog. Very shortly an energetic pup came running up to me, placed his front feet on my chest and peed all over my legs. I looked at the owner and said, “He’s marked me, I guess I’m his.” I picked him up after work that night, and he, Amos, became my constant friend. He was the gentlest dog I’ve ever known. I only saw him ready himself to attack, twice in twelve years; both when he thought I was in danger.

When Megan left for college and I was home alone, Amos saved my life. He was the reason I had for coming home at night. He needed to be fed and watered, exercised and loved. Were it not for him, I’d have easily slipped down the neck of a bottle. God used him to sustain me during that loneliest time of my life. It’s as though Amos heard the Lord say, “Your mission;” and his response was, “mission received.” I can clearly and easily say, “mission accomplished.”

I lost my friend today. The ravages of time were finally too much for me to allow Amos to continue to suffer. He was victim to that common large-dog affliction of hip dysplasia, and was having difficulty getting up and down the steps required for him to go outside. Arthritis set in, and he was moving like an old man. His bowels and bladder weren’t the “iron organs” they once were, and he was losing his appetite – not a normal thing for a Lab. His wake-up greetings to me went from, “Hey, where have you been? It’s about time you got up to feed me,” to “Ah, good morning, great to see you,” to “For the love of God, would you just leave me alone!!” So, I made the decision, and sent my most faithful friend to a place where he would no longer suffer.

As a young man, I would often pull out my guitar and sing a song that would make anyone who had owned a faithful dog, cry. It’s what I called the sure fire way to make grown men cry. That song was “Old Shep” - a good version here, if you’ve never heard it: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=b2ACtMyq-Eo

Amos was my “Shep”. Rest in peace my good and faithful friend, while this grown man cries.