The Dog You Have
Recently, one of my daughters had a sculpture on display at her college art show. As I wandered through the gallery admiring all the creations selected for the exhibition, my daughter’s professor walked up to me.
“I love your daughter’s artwork,” he said.
“Thank you,” I replied turning toward him.
That’s when I noticed he was holding the cutest dog I’d ever seen. Cradled in his arms, its fur was glossy and black, and turned wispy at the ears and tail. It looked a lot like my own dog, Plum, except this one was much smaller and much, much calmer. It sat perfectly still in the professor’s arms, peering out into the distance like a wise old sage. It possessed a quiet dignity.
“Oh my goodness!” I cried. “What kind of dog is that?”
“She’s a Dutch Tulip Hound,” the professor replied, stroking the dog’s noble head.
“A Dutch Tulip Hound? I’ve never heard of that before. What an amazingly cute dog! Is she always this calm?”
“Yes, she’s an old dog and needed a new home,”
“She needs a new home?” I interjected, sounding hopeful. I didn’t realize the professor hadn’t completed his sentence.
“No—she needed a new home,” he clarified. “Her owners had to move to an assisted living residence. I adopted her two weeks ago.”
“Oh, I see,” I replied, sounding disappointed. “Well, she’s incredibly cute.”
Ever since that day, the topic of Dutch Tulip Hounds has come up often. Whenever either of my own dogs, Alice or Plum, are barking, leaping on the couch, carrying my throw pillows around like dog toys, prancing energetically in unending circles, making the already apparent hole in the blue chair cushion larger and larger, or causing mischief of any kind, I proclaim, “A Dutch Tulip Hound would never act this way.” Or when they’re acting especially well-behaved, I say, “Almost as nice as Dutch Tulip Hounds.”
Each time I bring up Dutch Tulip Hounds, my husband, daughters, and I laugh because my comparisons are, for the most part, not serious ones. But sometimes while joking this way, it’s crossed my mind how toxic comparisons can be. When I focus my heart on things God hasn’t given me, I cease to value His good gifts. When my gaze is set on some quiet, noble-looking Dutch Tulip Hound far off in the distance, I surely miss out on the love, beauty, and humor staring up at me with adoring eyes.
Blessings to you this week as you embrace the good gifts God has given you,
~Amy
P.S. Lately, anytime I’m tempted to be discontent, I say to myself, “be thankful for the dog you have.” It makes me laugh and it really helps!