A friend recently mentioned that the Army had given her grandson, who’d been injured in Afghanistan, a service dog.  Her grandson had sunk into a deep, dark depression that in many ways threatened his life more than his physical injuries.  The dog had made a tremendous difference in her grandson’s life.  She called the service dog, his “comfort dog.”  I realized as she told the story that God had sent Wayne and me a comfort dog too.  Bogie came into our lives shortly before we buried our son, Dale.  God knew we would need this gentle, loving dog to help us through the darkest days of our lives.  Today is National Love Your Pet Day so be sure and give your pet a little TLC and perhaps an extra treat or two.

If my typinggggggg isd  a bit weird, it’s because Bogie is sitting on my lap.  WWWWWWWWWWWWWWWayne thoughtfully   brought him to the office to visit.  Bogie is intent on licking all the make-up offf my face.    Visiting the office is a rare treat for him.  He runs to see me and then Renate, my assistant, and then Heidi and lastly Wanda.  He gets lots of attention and then heads back upstairs to me and hopp[[[[[s into my lap.  If my book is late I have a valid excuse.  I had a dog in my lap demanding attention. (And a husband plotting against me.)