Charlie

My foot is asleep. Completely numb--except for the pain shooting up my leg.

I have been working at my desk for hours--long before the sun came up--tapping out resumes and cover letters. And my right foot has been in the same position for most of that time, with Charlie draped across it.

Charlie is the new love of my life. She is a four month old puppy--part toy poodle and part bishon. She is white, and has the darkest eyes I've ever seen.

I wasn't looking for a puppy. My old dog, Abby, is still alive--although deaf, blind and crippled.

Life as a 3L is complicated enough without adding a pooping and peeing machine to my list of responsibilities. Charlie needed a home, though, and I couldn't say no.

Charlie's real name is Charlotte. She is part lady and part tomboy, so we're calling her Charlie.

Charlie moved in about two weeks ago and has rarely left my side since. Wherever I am, she is there. And, she is not content to be "in the room" with me, but she must be touching me. It may just be a paw or her snout or she may snuggle up next to me on the couch while the laptop occupies my lap, but she must be touching me. When I am at my desk, her favorite place to be is in my lap. But, if that's not possible, her next favorite place to be is under the desk draped across my feet. So, this morning, as the sun rises, and I try to make this a productive day, Charlie is sleeping on my feet.

Even when Charlie plays, she wants me to play. She will bring her tennis ball, bones, stuffed chipmunks and other toys and just drop them at my feet. She will nudge them my way. She'll give a slight growl to get my attention, and her ears will perk up when I notice her. She will get into "pounce" position, ready to attack the stuffed chipmunk or chase down the evil tennis ball. When I scoot off the couch and onto the floor to play, her energy level skyrockets. She runs and jumps with pure abandon. She is ecstatic. And I know that in 15 minutes, she will be absolutely exhausted and ready for a rest.

Typically, after playing, she will go to the laundry room and whine. She will look at her bed and then look at me. From the first day she arrived, I trained her that this is her bed. I took it with me from room to room and let her lie in it with it positioned next to me. Now, when she's tuckered out from playing, she wants to lie in her bed--just as I trained her--but now I'm the one who's trained to retrieve the bed and bring it near me. And, if I don't, she'll eventually drape herself across my feet.

When I run errands or go to school, it doesn't matter if I am gone for five minutes or five hours, Charlie is ecstatic upon my return. I know I am going to be greeted with jumping, barking, and a wagging tail. And she will not be happy until she is picked up and licking as much of my face as possible. Soldiers returning from war do not receive a warmer welcome.

When it's time for bed, I have to help her on and off the bed because she is much too small to jump. Typically there are two to four pillows on my bed, but Charlie must sleep on the same pillow with me. She has to be near my head or face. Usually I fall asleep to the aroma of puppy breath and wake up with a paw poking me in the eye or ear. And, in the middle of the night, should I move to another pillow, she will notice; and she will groggily follow suit.

In two short weeks I have trained Charlie where to poop and pee, when it is appropriate to bark, and when she may sit in my lap. I wonder if God wishes sometimes that he would have just stopped with dogs. They would have been far less trouble than people. They would have given unconditional love and never demanded anything in return. They would have wanted nothing more than to be close to Him, drape across His feet, and snuggle so close as to smell His breath. Oh, and they wouldn't have said, "there is no God"; even dogs aren't that stupid.

I wasn't shopping for a puppy and I wasn't looking for a lesson, but then came Charlie.

I am always with you; you hold me by my right hand. You guide me with your counsel . . Whom have I in heaven but you? And earth has nothing I desire besides you. . . . As for me, it is good to be near God. Psalm 73.