I Gotcha

The hope of the righteous brings joy, but the expectation of the wicked will perish.

AFTER THREE YEARS OF APARTMENT LIFE, Cora and her husband, Dillon, were delighted to move into a three-bedroom house. The new location meant a shorter commute for Dillon; miles of tree-lined sidewalks for walking their black and white cocker spaniel, Max; and friendly neighbors. The neighborhood was idyllic—with one cantankerous exception. A sandy-colored terrier mix seemed offended by this new dog on the block. He would stick his nose through the fence surrounding his yard, baring his teeth and barking ferociously whenever Cora and Max walked by. Max, a sweet-natured and timid dog, would scurry past the terrier’s house, keeping Cora between himself and the cranky canine.

For an entire week the terrier sounded his disapproval, but with the fence as a barrier, Cora wasn’t too concerned.

However, one morning when Cora and Max set out, they were startled to see the terrier racing down the sidewalk toward them, viciously barking. Instinctively, Cora scooped up Max into her arms, raised her leg to block the aggressor, and with a power she didn’t know she possessed, she shouted, “No! Enough!”

The dog not only stopped—he sat.

A moment later a woman came running up with a leash.

“Is everyone okay? I’m so sorry this happened. I’m watching Scout while my friend is out of town. I didn’t realize he snuck out my front door when I went to get the newspaper.”

As the frazzled dogsitter took charge of Scout, she continued to apologize. “Are you sure no one was hurt? I promise to keep a closer eye on Scout.”

“Thank you. Max and I are fine,” Cora assured her. “Ready to go, Max?” Cora put him down on the sidewalk and they began walking. Having come through his ordeal unscathed, Max seemed to walk with his tail held a little higher and with an extra little bounce in his step.

He glanced at Cora. The look of adoration and gratitude warmed her heart.

“I gotcha, buddy. I’ll always have your back,” she said.

The rest of the walk was pleasantly peaceful.

The next morning Cora braced herself for another showdown with Scout. But it never happened. In fact, the little dog never barked at them again. He simply watched with interest as Cora and Max walked by. “You’re actually kind of a cute little curmudgeon,” Cora admitted.

When Scout finally went home to his owner, Cora missed seeing the testy dog when she and Max went on their walks. But one look at a much happier Max confirmed he liked everything just the way it was.

PAWS & PONDER . . .

Max placed his hope in Cora to protect him. In what ways did Max’s hope lead to joy? In what or whom are you placing your hope? Is the source of your hope giving you joy?

Paws & Pray

Lord, you alone are my hope and the source of true joy. Right now, I place my hope and trust in you and ask that you would fill me with deep and abiding joy.