If you read to the end, you’ll see that this is much more than a story about a man and his dog.

 

What do you associate with rascal?

Originally, the term referred to a rabble-rousing member of a mob. Apt synonyms included scoundrel, villain, trickster and brat. Gradually, we’ve given the word a more affectionate connotation. Saying “He’s a rascal!” means we view him as mischievous, yet also charming, lovable, someone who makes us laugh.

That brings me to my new dachshund puppy, to whom I bestowed the name Rascal before I met him. We’ve had him a month now.

To say the name fits is the understatement of the millennium!

 

Portrait of A Rascal

Strong Willed, Defiant   Rascal began chewing on the lower back of a $1,100 recliner. I sternly said, “No, Rascal! No bite chair!” The little miscreant backed up, looked at me and barked ferociously, saying, “You’re not the boss of me, daddy!” He did the same thing when Dolly said “No!” after he pooped on the floor, right after she brought him in from outside where he barrel-rolled in the grass and played hide-and-seek behind bushes without taking care of his business.

Now I know why the breeder said, “Rascal is an apt name for him!”  (Yea…I’ve got work to do with that boy.)

Aggressive, Alpha Male Wrestling   Rascal’s five-year-old brother, Bronson, weighs three times more. They play together well, but when Bronson wants to stop and rest, he barks in Rascal’s face, saying, “Back off!! That’s enough for now!” Is Rascal intimidated? No, Rascal barks just as loudly and rams into Bronson, pummeling Bronson’s rear end with his long nose. “Play time is over when I say it’s over!” insists Rascal.

Aggravating Behavior When It’s Time to Potty  I know when to take him outside to do his business: within 30 minutes of a meal; after a nap; after a rousing play time and at least every three hours otherwise. He hasn’t yet learned to let us know when he needs to go. I know what to look for when he needs to poop: his anal area appears puffy and dilated. When we’re in the yard and I know he needs to go or he hasn’t peed in hours, he runs from one end of the back yard to the other, stopping to eat grass before I can get to him. (“But it’s good for me, daddy! It’s salad!”)

Who has time to write or study when I spend two hours a day staring at a puppy’s heinie?

Every time we walk outside, I say “Potty outside” and keep promising him a treat if he goes. Even when he does, it’s after I chase him in my pajamas, looping around trees and shrubs, working up a sweat in South Carolina’s heat and humidity. The treat he most looks forward to is aggravating me, making his old man tromp through the yard, watching me dancing around previous piles of poop he deposited. (Did I tell you I’m 75 years old?)

When he sees me bending over, huffing and puffing, Rascal has the nerve to say, “Daddy, one of your goals this year is move more. I’m helping you get in shape!”

I never imagined that the most heartfelt prayer I’d utter in a week would be, “Lord, please make him potty!” Or that I’d break out singing the Halleluiah Chorus when he finally poops or pees. (You think I’m kidding, don’t you?)

I wonder what neighbors who are outside at the time think. “Is this the guy who taught at a Christian university and seminary? Hearing him butcher the Halleluiah Chorus, I hope he didn’t teach in the music department! How did he handle a professor’s responsibility with a vocabulary limited to a puppy’s plumbing needs?”

Update: Now when I take him out, I put him on a leash and restrict the yard area. Only problem is I’m getting less exercise.

 

Unconditional Love

Do I love him in spite of those frustrations?

Who couldn’t love the fella who snuggles in bed with me for a few minutes before I put him in his crate for the night? He roots his nose under my arm while I’m lying on my side and scrunches the remainder of his long sausage body so every inch of him is touching me. Or he wraps his snout around my neck and goes to sleep.

Who couldn’t love someone who enthusiastically greets me with windshield wiper tail wags when I enter the house, as if he hasn’t seen me in a week?

Who couldn’t love the fella whose loud, high pitch yawn, when I get him out of his crate each morning, echoes through the chambers of my heart? Or when he stops gnawing on his chew toy and stares at me in a warm, contented manner, whispering, “I love you, daddy!”

I love him because he’s mine. I chose him.

I researched dachshund breeders in seven states, called several and emailed others. I viewed scores of puppy pictures. When I saw Rascal’s pic, I exclaimed, “There he is! That’s Rascal!”  I paid $2,100 for him. You couldn’t get him from me for a hundred times that amount! He meets a need I can’t quite explain, filling up the hole left in my heart when my first dachshund, Farley, died in 2023 at 16 years, two months and twenty days. (Bronson is my son’s dachshund. They live with us.)

Since he isn’t yet house trained, Rascal is hard to live with. But he isn’t hard to love!

 

Another Rascal in the House?

During a recent quiet time, I asked the Lord for patience and discernment in relation to Rascal’s potty training. That isn’t too insignificant to pray about, since God cares about what concerns me. I recall a Family Circus cartoon showing Dolly talking to her younger brother as he bowed his head to pray. She said, “It’s okay to ask God for little things, Jeffy. Everything is little to God!”

As I prayed, I began hearing the “inside whisper” of God’s Spirit. I didn’t hear words, but the dialog that follows captures the essence of His interaction with me.

“How you’re dealing with Rascal reminds me of how I deal with you,” He insisted.

“What do you mean, Lord?”

“Well, you’re the epitome of a rascal, starting with the negative connotations. Occasionally you’re rebellious, not wanting to obey my clear directives. Remember how long it took you to apologize to the person you spoke negatively about to a third party? You put it off for days because you didn’t want to diminish your reputation in his eyes. That’s pride with a capital P!

“There’s also the temptation you don’t immediately come to Me for help over every time it surfaces. You want my deliverance only after you toy with it a while. And a few times you didn’t consult Me over a speaking invitation or an editor’s request to write an article. Because you wanted extra money or prestige, you accepted deadlines that you were too overwhelmed to meet. You knew I’d say ‘No,’ didn’t you?

“Do you want other examples that brand you as a scoundrel?”

” No Lord, I get the point.”

“Terry, you enjoy a relationship with Me since you put your faith in My Son’s substitutionary death for your sin, but you’re still a sinner! You can’t  always trust your heart, just as you can’t fully trust Rascal yet when he is loose in the house. Both of you have a knack of getting into trouble.”

 

Good News for Rascals

God continues His conversation with me:

“But here’s the good news, Terry. Despite your stubbornness and messes, I view you as a rascal primarily in the affectionate sense. I love you radically, as I say through Paul in Romans 5:8: ‘But God shows his love for us in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us.’

“Just as you love it when Rascal snuggles close to you in bed and lays his nose on your neck, I love it when you spend time developing intimacy with me. I love you even when you don’t carve out time for devotions, but it thrills Me when you strive to get close to Me. Your quiet time isn’t just for your benefit, you know. I enjoy that time, too.

“And just as certain behaviors of Rascal stir your love for Him, I find a few things you do endearing.”

“You’re kidding, right?”

“No! When you write poems to Me or pray to Me in the form of rhyme, that delights Me. And when you choose to wash dishes for Dolly each evening despite the back pain that spikes when you stand at the sink, that elicits a smile from Me.”

“But Lord, You know I complain too often about my back pain.”

“Yes, you do. Just like your puppy, you’re still very much a work in progress.”

 

God’s Final Words to Me

“Terry, I also know how frequently you criticize yourself. Self-condemnation erupts from your lips because you’re still performance-oriented and perfectionistic. Oh, how I yearn for you to extend to yourself just a smidgen of the grace I give you.

“Do you recall how proud you felt when you first walked into PetSmart with Rascal? You couldn’t wait to show him off. That’s nothing compared to how I delight in you! What I inspired Jeremiah to say to the people of Judah applies to my feelings for you: ‘The Lord God is in your midst, a mighty one who will save. He will rejoice over you with gladness; he will quiet you with his love; he will exult over you with loud singing’ (Zephaniah 3:17).

“My servant, Charles Spurgeon, reflected on that verse when he wrote, ‘In what strong language God expresses His delight in His people! Who could have conceived of the eternal One as bursting forth into a song over us?’  And trust Me, Terry. When I sing, it sounds more majestic than your rendition of the Hallelujah Chorus!

“You think you paid a lot for Rascal, but that’s nothing compared to the price I paid for you! The price I paid was the precious blood of my Son (1 Peter 1:18-19). As a result, now ‘you are not your own’ (1 Cor. 6:19-20).  Yes, I own you. You’re mine! I chose you before the world began (2 Timothy 1:9), and I cherish all who I own.”

Then God summarized in a sentence the message He wanted me to glean from our conversation.

“Terry, you rascal, I love you!”