Faith: Reflecting a little bit on gratitude these days

Walking into November, I have been reflecting on gratitude. I give myself a gratitude tuneup a couple of times a year. This year, I’m finding that gratitude is much easier when things are going well, and not so much when things are hard.

We’re in a hard spot right now. Bandit, the senior Grande Dame of Head Acres, has an aggressive form of cancer. Her vet says she has a month, maybe two, to live.

Tough pill to swallow.

Bandit has been my constant shadow for the 12-plus years she’s been here. She and my therapy dog Tank, who died of cancer in November 2016, were best of friends. If I saw one, the other was right behind. Tank and Bandit were inseparable; and they were attached to me like Velcro.

If it weren’t for The Dad, Bandit wouldn’t be here. At breakfast one Sunday morning, Dad talked about this weird-looking dog that had been hanging out at Cook’s Truck Stop. He had tried to catch her a few times, but no luck.

And so began the dance.

We loaded up the car with cookies and assorted dog gear and headed out to the truck stop. It didn’t take long to find that weird-looking dog, crazy long hair, matted, and dirty. We sat out there, in the heat, talking to the pup. Warily, the dog would look at us, get fairly close but not close enough to snatch up, and just hang out. We stayed out there a few hours on the first day, and practically lost our stuff when she got spooked, ran across the highway and settled at the train tracks.

It was summertime, and for the next week, we would try to convince her to come with us. No luck. Toward the end of the week, my husband Wayne brought a ball out with us, a bouncy ball. Standing apart, he bounced the ball on the ground toward me, and this long-haired mess started chasing it. So, for the next hour or so, we tossed the ball back and forth with her barking, chasing it and running around. We left because of a storm, and I told her we’d come back the next day and we left in between lightning bolts.

The next day, we arrived at the truck stop and spotted her across the tracks in the field. Wayne and Dad stayed at the train tracks while I went to the field … and tossed the ball. She took off and grabbed the ball and brought it back. She threw it at me (really), so I picked it up and threw it again. And away she went.

This went on for about a half hour, until she came up to me and laid down. I knelt, pulled the rope out of my back pocket, and asked if she was ready to go home.

She was.

I slipped the rope on her, and said, “Let’s go home.” She walked right by my side, and away we went. I was so grateful that she decided I was OK (for a person), and got into the car.

That was a lifetime ago, especially in dog years. Now, Bandit has a bucket list. She is still right by my side. And, I’ll stay by hers until she leaves us. We’re incredibly sad right now but it’s sadness tinged with gratitude. She’s been my constant companion, and Head Acres is better for having her here. So am I.

Patti Dobson writes about faith for The Eastern New Mexico News. Contact her at:

[email protected]