Christian Living

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I don’t remember at what age Bozo came into my life, but I do remember the process of naming him. The Beagle-mix (I have no idea what he was mixed with – just know he was too tall to be all beagle) was given to us by a family friend. My older sisters and I argued over different names for quite some time. It was during our name jousting that a famous show in Chicago came on the air – at its usual time – noon. And so our new family member was named after the “Bozo’s Circus Show”, though I don’t think he ever really knew he was so lucky.

I grew up with Bozo, and he with me. When I was sad, I hugged that dog. When he seemed sad, he rested his head on my leg and sighed. Yes, he really sighed. I thought only people did that.

When I threw a ball or a biscuit (not dog biscuits – he hated them), Bozo would chase it down. A ball he would bring back to me to throw again. A biscuit would be taken to a hiding spot until later, and when the opportunity presented itself (no humans around) he would bury the tasty treat for future consumption. I never understood why he didn’t just eat the biscuit when I tossed it to him. It certainly couldn’t taste as good sprinkled with a dirt topping.

Bozo was indeed a strange dog. But he was always a good friend. Most dogs are. Bozo never cared about how much my jeans cost or that I got kicked off the diving team for having bad grades or what size engine my Grand Prix had under the hood. All that mattered to that dog was that I came to see him once in a while. That alone, sent his tail into a blender-frenzy, his front paws clamoring like a professional boxer, and his tongue slopping like an automatic car wash sponge.

The day came when Bozo had to be “put to sleep”, and it was on that day that I realized how precious life is. Dogs don’t live as long as people, and maybe God had a reason for that. Maybe our pets teach us about the magnificent gift of life, and to never (I mean NEVER) take it for granted.

I remember trying to hold back the tears as we drove to the veterinarian’s office. It was a useless exertion. The tears broke free that day, and I understood a little bit more about the short time humans and animals have on this glorious planet God has given us. We will one-day walk in a different world – a never-ending world. But the pain still comes when people or animals depart, for we have lost a part of us we may or may not have taken for granted. Either way, it hurts the same.

I wonder if Bozo is in heaven. I wonder if he hides unleavened bread when Jesus isn’t looking.

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