A Dog’s Tale
This story is from the Joyful, the newsletter of All Saints, Wichita Falls, which meets at the Arc. The Joyful is produced by Owanah Anderson, who assisted the author in telling his story, since he can’t type. More issues of the Joyful can be read on All Saints’ website.
My name is Boy. I’m a dog. A boy dog—a handsome black lab boy dog, to be exact. There are town dogs and there are country dogs and I am a country dog. I take care of the Cruse Horse Ranch for Sammy Cruse, who is a Lay Eucharistic Minister for All Saints Episcopal Church in Wichita Falls, TX.
Last Sunday morning we got to church early; there was a lot of scurrying about. I heard somebody say that Bishop Hulsey is coming. Sammy bustled around the building and dragged in a tall padded chair. “That chair oughta just about fit the Bish,” Sammy said to JD, the verger. JD nodded.
I walked around the room greeting my human friends until services started. Then I watched over things from the back of the house, visiting with Richard Johnson, a nice grey haired gentleman who always sits on the back row.
I took a liking to the bishop. He has a nice smile and a soft kind voice. I wanted him to know I was paying attention, so I ambled up front. About that time he got up and started preaching, so I hopped up beside Sammy in the Bishop’s tall chair. The bishop smiled and pointed his finger at me. He said, “Boy, there are responsibilities that go with that chair!”
The bishop talked about us all being servants of God and I said to myself, “Why, I knew that!” Then it got kind of warm in the room and I got a bit sleepy. I curled up and snoozed a bit. Then, the bishop looked over at us and said, “Boy, you sure know how to tell a preacher when it’s time to quit.”