The Neighbor’s Dog
By Kathy Silvie
Kathy is the former Director of Christian Education at Edgewood Presbyterian Church in Birmingham, Alabama, USA. She is a specialist in children's ministry, a working mom, and "a woman at the well."

This story was related to me by my friend Billy, who lived in Rock Creek, Alabama.

The presence of his neighbor’s dog in his driveway was not an unusual experience for Billy. The dog routinely patrolled the neighborhood. Not as a pest or a beggar, but rather as a peacekeeper, just making sure everything was as it should be. A calm and gentle mixed breed this one, just a dog with a keen nose about her. So seeing her in his driveway was in itself not alarming. What seemed odd was her nervous demeanor. She seemed anxious, skittish, almost afraid - unusual for this dog.

When the garage door opened electronically, the dog darted inside. "Come out of there!” Billy mockingly ordered, "you go on home now!". She cowered and trembled. "Go on now, I don’t have time to play with you." She whined. Billy took her collar and led her out. Before the door closed, she ran inside again, this time crawling under the boat that was stored in the barn-sized outbuilding. "What is wrong with you, crazy dog?" With the help of his wife, the dog was coaxed and then pulled back outside and restrained until the door was closed. Then Billy shooed her away with a firm, "Go on home!" command.

Later that evening, in April of 1998, the skies over Jefferson County, Alabama began to churn and threaten. Local TV stations interrupted regular broadcasting to warn residents to go to shelter immediately. The wall of storms swept across the southeastern US with unbelievable fury. Billy and his wife and a neighbor family sought safety in his family room, under a billiards table. The destruction wreaked by the tornados, at least one F-5 by some accounts, was total.

It was on the second day of clean up that Billy noticed her, the neighbor’s dog, watching from a distance. Until then he had forgot about her. He stared at her, she stared resolutely back at him. "So, is this what you were trying to tell me, girl?", he heard himself mumble. Then a wave of guilt washed over him. He had just two days earlier pushed her away, locked her out, ignored her urgent behavior. Seeing her in the distance, he crouched down on one knee and called to her. She came to him. He put his hand out to her. "I am sorry, girl. I had no idea." She licked his face and began to wag her whole body.

Billy marveled at her eagerness toward him. A person would have held a grudge. But not this one. Billy was forgiven, Billy was loved. In spite of himself, Billy was loved. He likened it to the forgiveness that we can find from our Savior. Despite our actions, despite our unwillingness to read the urgency, despite all our human failings, when we surrender, when we say "I am sorry. I had no idea", peace and love are presented totally and uninhibitedly, not unlike that of the One Who cannot carry a grudge.

Oh, and by the way, besides under the billiards table that night, the only other safe place was under the boat in the garage.

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