The Devil is in my house.
It’s just before dawn and I’m writing this column using only the soft light of my computer monitor. I dare not use more illumination as it could draw attention. I’ve learned to listen for the soft click-click of paws on hardwood floor. Oh, I miss the days when I was my own man! My freedom is dwindling away little by little, like a winter day blending into a cold dark night. Like all evil, this started out so innocently.
My young son wanted a dog. As any good father would do I instructed him on the responsibilities of having a pet. He assured me he understood.
“Daddy,” he said, “if I had a dog I’d walk it an’ feed it an’ pet it an’ take care of it! I would Daddy, I understand ‘bout being ‘sponsible. Please, I wanna dog more than anything in the ‘hole world!”
Evil entered my house in the form of a puppy. She was a full blood Fawn Boxer. Her little paws were white with fawn brown fur on her upper body. Her chest was snow white and she had black around the eyes and an upturned little muzzle. We named her Roxey and we were all struck by her cuteness. And that is what blindsided my Christian faith.
At first my son played with her and fed her. Then he learned to play soccer, softball and ride a bicycle. Soon it fell to Dad to make sure the dog was walked and fed. Dad cleaned up poop, Dad paid the vet bills and Dad somehow ended up being the one with a dog. Coming home after work meant taking care of Roxey—first thing.
Three months went by then one day the Boxer chewed the bottom off of our sofa and I went ballistic! My wife picked the puppy up over her shoulder and hugged her.
“It’s alright my sweetie pie-- my good girl, yes you are-- you’re my sweet good girl!” Turning to me she said, “You should walk her more. If you did then this would not happen. You should be more sensitive to the needs of others.”
As she carried “good girl” out of the room the Boxer looked over my wife’s shoulder at me as if to say “Watch what I do to your shoes---the new pair.” The room grew cold-- I could see my breath.
The Boxer grew bigger and could do no wrong.
One afternoon Roxey managed to eat a cake that was left on the countertop. My wife thought it was hilarious. As she knelt down to hug Roxey the dog looked over my wife’s shoulder at me and for an instant I thought the Boxer leered at me with black and green teeth and then her head twisted completely around while staring at me! It seemed that the kitchen window was covered with black flies but when I started to speak everything went back to normal! My wife turned to me and said” You can run out and get a cake---- if you think you really need dessert.” She looked at my stomach like it was something you’d step on by accident.
The Boxer now claims what was my chair, naps on what was my footrest and watches Desperate Housewives from my couch. If I try to correct any of this I am met with cold stares by my wife, son and the dog. They have become the unholy Trinity.
Roxey has been watching me a lot lately. She demands longer walks; more play time and more treats. I see that she is in the room with me right now. She slipped in quietly, unnoticed and she knows that I am writing about her. She stares at me, silently, intently.
The Devil is waiting to be walked----- and she likes to be scratched behind her ears.
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