The parable of the prodigal puppy
“And he arose and came to his father. But when he was still a great way off, his father saw him and had compassion, and ran and fell on his neck and kissed him…” [Luke 15:11-32]
Our attempt to own and train a puppy has ended on a rather pathetic note. After just three days, the puppy has run away. We don’t know if she will ever return.
I have always wanted to own a dog. So we were all excited the day we brought little Zoe home. I chose the name. Zoe means life in Greek. I had high hopes that the puppy would be a bundle of joy, and grow up to be a loyal and faithful companion, as well as a good guard dog.
But I wasn’t prepared for the stress involved in training a puppy! She howled terribly on the first night when we left her to sleep alone on the porch. Her crying broke our hearts, so we let her into the house. But the little rascal simply couldn’t keep still. She woke up every few hours, and started chewing on our mattress, or biting our blankets. We barely got any sleep. In the morning, we found puddles of urine everywhere. Needless to say, we decided that she should not be allowed into the house at night anymore.
The next day, I stepped up training Zoe. We smacked her everytime she tried to come into the house. I dreaded having to discipline her, but I simply had to. She became bolder as she got used to the new environment, and would sneak out of the compound. Her time away from the house increased, until she eventually ran away one early morning, never to return.
I experienced a whole range of emotions. I was sad that she was lost, and worried for her safety. But a part of me was somewhat relieved. Perhaps I’m not ready for the responsibility of rearing a dog, I told myself. Still, I wished she would return home, where she belongs.
Last night, I kept looking out the window at the gate, just in case Zoe had come back. Interestingly, I began to think of the parable of the prodigal son in Luke 15:11-32. Like the loving father, I was longing for a prodigal to return.
But I also realized that my love for my puppy was in no way comparable to the intense love that the father had for his son. I understood in a new way just how magnanimous and selfless the father was. He had been betrayed and hurt so deeply, but his love for his child remained so intense and unconditional. I couldn’t say the same for myself. While I longed for Zoe to return, a part of me was unsure if I could fully love and trust her.
I don’t know if Zoe will ever return, or if we will try to get another puppy again. But she has taught me many things. I longed for Zoe to respond to me in love and loyalty, to acknowledge me as her master – perhaps not unlike God’s intense desire for our love. I also had to discipline and train her before she could learn to live in my household – again, not unlike God’s loving discipline towards His children. Every time I made the dreaded walk to the porch to spank Zoe, I also wondered, is not God similarly grieved every time I reject His correction and rebel against Him?
This afternoon, I tied Zoe’s red blanket outside our gate. If she ever wandered back to our neighbourhood, perhaps she would recognize her own scent and come home. I think the gates of Heaven are covered in a sea of red blankets too…
August 25, 2007
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