DOWN HOME: Doggone infidelity & God’s jealousy

I might as well get to it: I’ve been unfaithful.

It happened on a road trip, far from home.

My action was reflexive, spontaneous, unrehearsed. At first, I had fun. Until, that is, I realized what I was doing. And then I felt guilty.

Joanna and I boarded our puppy, Topanga, with our local vet. Then we flew away.

We were to spend Saturday night with our friends Nancy and Glen, so I could preach for Glen at Grace Fellowship Baptist Church in Fair Oaks Ranch, since he had been invited to preach at First Baptist Church in Hondo.

Before we got to their house, Glen reminded us he and Nancy have a puppy, Sam, who happens to be a verrrrrrrry friendly golden retriever.

“Now, Sam will want to make friends with you,” Glen told us. I think he used words and phrases like “enthusiastic” and “he’ll calm down” and “energetic” and “don’t be alarmed” to prepare us to meet Sam.

Turns out, Sam is a lot like Topanga. When we picked Topanga out from her litter, the breeder placed her in my arms and said, “This little dog thinks she’s a person.”

I didn’t understand what she meant by that. But it didn’t take long to figure it out. Topanga is the kind of dog who thinks she has to be in the middle of people, doing what they’re doing.

I’m pretty sure Topanga would eat her breakfast off the table and read the newspaper with me if I’d let her. When Joanna and I cuddle, Topanga crawls along the back of the couch and sticks her head between ours. Sam is a lot like that, except that he’s six times as big as Topanga.

He’s just a good-natured people dog.

And I liked him from the start. We talked and played, and we played and talked. I wanted to throw a ball to see what would happen. But I’ve never played fetch in the house with a dog that huge. So, I didn’t, since I was worried we might wreck the joint.

When Sam put his paw on top of my hand to get my attention, just the way Topanga does, it made me think of her.

Here I was, off playing with another dog, while my own puppy sat alone in a vet’s kennel back home. Doggonit, I missed her.

When we got back home, I made it up to Topanga by playing fetch with her twice as long as usual and letting her gnaw on my fingers.

I worried whether Topanga would sniff Sam’s scent on my trousers and get upset. Fortunately, she either (a) didn’t notice or (b) didn’t care. She’s not a jealous dog.

As we played, I remembered the Bible says that, unlike Topanga, God is a “jealous God.” That sounds harsh to our ears, but God demands our attention, affection and loyalty. Too often, we put “other gods” in God’s place, and that’s far more serious than wrestling with Sam while Topanga languishes in a kennel. Because, unlike Topanga or Sam, God is ultimate, not just our pet.