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110 pages

English

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Dogs are truly one of God's finest creatures, a marvelous gift for us humans. In the perfect follow-up to A Prince among Dogs, Callie Smith Grant compiles a delightful collection of true stories that celebrate the dogs in our lives. These stories will touch our hearts, renew our spirits, and show us how God made these wonderful creatures for unique purposes.Readers will love these uplifting glimpses into the lives of ordinary and extraordinary dogs and the people who love them. The stories are warm, captivating, and ideal for a good curl-up-and-read or a perfect gift for any dog lover.

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Publié par	Baker Publishing Group
Date de parution	01 juin 2011
Nombre de lectures	0
EAN13	9781441237330
Langue	English

Informations légales : prix de location à la page 0,0374€. Cette information est donnée uniquement à titre indicatif conformément à la législation en vigueur.

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© 2011 by Callie Smith Grant
Published by Revell
a division of Baker Publishing Group
P.O. Box 6287, Grand Rapids, MI 49516-6287
www.revellbooks.com
E-book edition created 2011
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—for example, electronic, photocopy, recording—without the prior written permission of the publisher. The only exception is brief quotations in printed reviews.
ISBN 978-1-4412-3733-0
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is on file at the Library of Congress, Washington, DC.
Scripture marked NIV is taken from the Holy Bible, New International Version®. NIV®. Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984 by Biblica, Inc. TM Used by permission of Zondervan. All rights reserved worldwide. www.zondervan.com
Scripture marked NKJV is taken from the New King James Version. Copyright © 1982 by Thomas Nelson, Inc. Used by permission. All rights reserved.
The internet addresses, email addresses, and phone numbers in this book are accurate at the time of publication. They are provided as a resource. Baker Publishing Group does not endorse them or vouch for their content or permanence.
To my husband,
a friend to dogs everywhere
Contents

Cover
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
Introduction
A Walk of Joy
They Protect Their Children
When Scooter Met Scott
Willie Nelson and the Open Tread Stairs
On the Train to London
The Purpose-Driven Dog
The Dog Next Door
Rescue on Round Top Mountain
Coming Home
A Gift of Love
Seventy Times Seven
Share the Wealth
Something a Lot like Love
The Rescued Dog Who Rescued Me Back
Skippy
Vicki
You Just Never Know
A Dinah by Any Other Name
The Money Dog—Worth Her Weight in Gold
A New Calling
Jack and Willa—A Love Story
TLC for the OES
Three-Legged Sentinel
Respect
A Saving Transformation
The Pound Puppy
Tennessee and Me
The Dog of My Heart
Sam and Tiffany
Taking Care of Ginger Blue the Beagle
Bachernalia
Not a Boat, Not a Beaver—It’s a Lab!
The Foo Foo Dog
Love Once More
The House in the Woods
Acknowledgments
Notes
Contributors
Other Books by Author
Introduction

Callie Smith Grant
M y husband and I live on a lovely, tree-lined country road that doesn’t get a lot of traffic. We see some commuters, one school bus, tractors and combines, and a few teenage kids with loud stereos thumping from their vehicles. But otherwise it’s pretty quiet.
Every now and then, however, a pickup driven by an elderly gentleman goes slowly by. We know the truck because we’ve come to recognize the bark of its canine passenger.
No matter what season we’re in—bitter winter, humid summer, and everything in between—the front passenger window is down some if not all of the way. Sitting on the truck’s bench seat is a big dog who’s either hanging his head out the window or trying to. Around every five seconds, he gives one big, loud, whooping bark with that underlying whine my husband and I recognized from the first as belonging to a hound of some kind. We hear this before we actually see the dog.
The truck with man and dog passes by a couple times per week. We don’t know who they are or where they live, but we do know this—that is one happy hound. Whenever we hear them down the road, my husband and I stop what we’re doing, look for each other, and smile. No words are necessary.
America’s 44.9 million dog owners know there are myriad reasons to have a dog in their lives. [1] Dogs are good company, they protect us, they keep us on track in the daily grind, and sometimes they simply help us enjoy the world we might otherwise get too busy to appreciate. That’s what I think about our drive-by hound—he reminds me that the air is fresh and the day is full of possibility.
I view the dog as one of God’s finest creations. When I looked for material for this book, I wanted good, true stories about these noble beasts, stories that also might offer some perspective into why the dog came into the author’s life. Some things we’ll never know in this world, of course, but some reasons do present themselves clearly.
I found excellent and often powerful stories I know you will enjoy. There are stories of dogs that saved people’s lives and dogs that kept children safe. Less dramatic but just as valuable are the stories of dogs that helped the aged and infirm enjoy their days. I was presented with stories of dogs that offered support to strangers in need. Some of the dogs in this book displayed uncanny abilities to know when their human was in medical trouble. There are some tributes to beloved childhood dogs. I even discovered stories of dogs that saved other dogs.
In the 1930s, the great Helen Keller—blind and deaf since infancy but nevertheless amazingly accomplished—was given an Akita by the emperor of Japan. She was the first American to acquire this stunning breed, the hometown dog of Japan. She loved her Akita dearly, and when that dog died too soon, the emperor sent her another Akita. Miss Keller called her dog “an angel in fur.” [2] We lovers of dogs can understand that, can’t we?
My father always dreamed of moving to a remote Greek island to live. I once told a Greek gentleman that. He pulled out a map of his homeland and said, “In Greece, there are many islands, and there’s an island for everyone. Let’s find one for your papa.”
I’m convinced it is also true that there is the right dog for everyone.
Some of those wonderful creatures find us or are given to us—you’ll read about many of those in this book. And many more dogs still wait to be found.
I sincerely hope that after you’ve enjoyed the stories in this book, you’ll wonder about that perfect dog for you and consider finding it if you haven’t already. Or even the semiperfect dog. Or more than one dog. I also hope that you’ll feel compelled to visit your local animal shelter, humane society, or rescue association and get involved with some aspect of the running of these places.
And it is my hope that you will meet that dog who is your own “angel in fur” and add it to your family. In the meantime, enjoy the stories.
A Walk of Joy

Virginia Smith
I sure would like to meet BJ.”
My father’s speech was difficult to understand since the stroke that left him almost completely paralyzed, but his request held an unmistakable plea. I knew the boredom of long days at the nursing home was agony for this previously active outdoorsman, and I’d do just about anything to help him relieve the tedium. But how would my ultratimid dog react to the unusual sights and sounds and smells of this place?
BJ had moved into my empty nest several months before. My husband and I weren’t looking for a dog, but when the local newspaper broke the story of a raid on an area puppy mill, the plight of all those mistreated puppies touched our hearts. The rescued animals had been distributed to shelters across the state, including one in our town, so no single facility would be overburdened. We drove out there reluctantly, not sure what to expect but certainly not ready to fall in love with the matted, filthy, stinking, three-month-old black standard poodle huddled pathetically in a cold corner of the concrete pen. We instantly knew he was coming home with us.
BJ had never been around people or even inside a house. He was terrified of everything. He didn’t so much cower as collapse whenever he encountered anything unfamiliar, which was just about everything for the first few weeks. We almost named him Pancake because of his habit of dropping flat to the ground in terror, but settled on BJ, short for the French salutation bonjour . (He was a French poodle, after all!) When he conquered one fear, something new and terrifying loomed up to take its place—toys, his food bowl, the refrigerator door, the recliner’s footrest, even leaves blowing across the grass. One of his biggest fears was any terrain that inclined. Our first outdoor walk turned to disaster as we tried unsuccessfully to coax him up the very small hill at the end of our street. My husband spent weeks down on his hands and knees teaching BJ how to go up the stairs.
BJ’s one great passion, after he overcame his initial terror, was for tennis balls. He was an accomplished fetcher and would chase a ball until our arms ached from throwing it for him. So when I received permission to take BJ to the nursing home to meet Daddy, I went armed with balls.
Navigating the hallway leading to my father’s room was like running a gauntlet on the best of days. Wheelchairs and stretchers occupied by elderly or injured residents crowded the gleaming white halls and made a quick dash to Daddy’s private room impossible. Especially with a fifty-pound chicken dog trying to wrap himself around my legs. BJ had not displayed a tendency toward aggression in the months since we adopted him, but neither had I exposed him to crowds or to more than one or two close friends at a time. I was afraid he’d react in blind terror, and there was no telling what would happen.
“Lord,” I whispered, “please let us get to Daddy’s room without anything bad happening.”
I shortened the lead, and we began weaving our way between the dozing occupants of wheelchairs. We hadn’t reached the halfway point when a loud voice rang out.
“A dog! A dog!”
We’d been spotted. Heart pounding, I saw a young man, a head injury patient with whom I was vaguely familiar, speeding toward us in his electric wheelchair. I froze. BJ froze. Aroused by the shout, one elderly face looked our way, and then another. In the next instant we were surrounded with wheelchair-bound patients, all of whom wanted to meet the big black poodle.
I squatted down and placed an arm around BJ. He was trembling, his heart thundering as hard as mine. He pressed into me as the young man zoomed right up to us and reached out with an awkward hand to pound on his back. I thought BJ would certainly cowe