You might remember my small rant (you better remember) about the dogs from a week or two earlier.
Well, as I type I tell you that I have seen the light.
The job of ‘man’s best friend’ has never been in better paws than it is here at Alabanza.
Each canine here victoriously holds the title of “Laying in the Sun and Sitting Around Looking Happy Morale Officer.”
Let me tell you, these guys are good.
A gift from God indeed.
Tammy and Inka split time as border guards.
Our first duty upon returning from ministry is to stop just inside the gate and produce a full report of how our time went at the nursing home or hospital or the local township.
They are very interested in our affairs and the good works that are coming out of Alabanza.
Next, we have to navigate our seasoned Ford station wagon, affectionately named
“Pepe“, around and between what seems like a sea of little black labs, but is really only one very energetic Voctor.
It’s not unlike selling cotton candy at a fair and having to wade through a bunch of kids.
Once we’ve dispensed of the arrival ceremonies, Tammy resumes the task of trying to out-lazy Inka.
Just for the record, Tammy is some sort of a horse-grizzly-Great Dane mix that has perhaps the funniest under-bite the world has ever known. Voctor is continually gnawing on something; your arms and heels regularly, but mostly a Ridgeback puppy named Peanut is positioned firmly between his jaws.
Voctor is our associate pastor/relational minister here at Alabanza.
He takes enormous care to unsure that he is present during meetings for prayer or Bible study in the barn, and secures for himself the finest couch cushions for such facilitation.
This is especially true when there is a fire going.
Peanut, well, Peanut just discovered he can bark.
He’s still in that awkward puppy stage and hasn’t realized that shortly he’ll be the size of a Volkswagen.
The others, I believe, know the future and are getting their shots in on him now.
Volkie (which means something to the effect of little white puffy cloud), Lily and Zoe are all pretty much little bundles of joy.
They truly have a gift for replenishment and might actually be some form of fountain of youth.
But know this my friends… there is none like Inka.
I love her.
She’s not really a dog so much but rather resembles a small cow.
Judging by her distinctly vast physical appearance and her ‘I like flowers and butterflies’, happy-go-lucky disposition, I’m convinced that she is the spirit of my old dog, Beaux, sent back to make sure that not one gets into too big of a hurry and that all of the grass at Alabanza stays firmly in place.
It’s a tough job, holding all that sod down, but Inka does it with a glad heart.
So that’s my tail, of how a man can turn to mush.
We are emptied as we walk and pray through shanty-towns and hospitals, and we are filled again because dogs, too, are in the body of Christ.
