My parents found Oreo on Petfinder. It’s a nationwide website that connects people looking for a pet with pets looking for kind people. Oreo was a Boston Terrier used as a bait dog in a pit bull fighting ring when he was just a puppy. I briefly looked into bait dogs and couldn’t stomach much of it, so I’m not an expert. However, I do know enough to wonder how he survived as long as he did. He was rescued before he turned 1 and put into a terrible foster home. When Mom and Dad went “just to look” they found a quivering, hairless mess tied to a tree, chafed and bloodied from the inappropriate use of a harness. Needless to say, he was traumatized and a bit loopy by the time God brought him into Mom and Dad’s life. Also needless to say, their “just to look” turned into “get him out of here and home with us as quickly as possible.” In one moment his life changed and ours began to be marked with good if quirky memories.

Several years later, when Dad was stationed in Iraq, Oreo ended up coming to Dallas to live with Brian, myself, and our dog Sammy (Sammy also had a bad start in life, dumped on a busy street as a puppy). Mom was traveling too much and kennels were a bad, bad place for Oreo, so my parents asked us to be his home for those months. During that time he became as much our dog as my parent’s dog. He routinely curled up in the crook of Brian’s legs whenever the opportunity presented itself, or looked like it was about to present itself. He and Sammy tore around the apartment generally loving life together. And best of all, he became sensitive to my emotions, curling up with me just when I needed it (Sammy was and is useless for this). By the time we sent him back home, I was completely unable to see the ugly dog I had first met.

While we were home on furlough last year we spent most of our time in San Antonio with my parents. Oreo became Ray’s self-appointed guardian, standing watch over her from inside the nursery when he could, and from just outside the door of the nursery if he was shut out. I don’t believe he understood why he was doing it, he just felt a natural compulsion to watch over her. He did the same with my sister’s child and any other children that were nearby. If I didn’t love Oreo before, he sealed my heart by guarding my child. And that’s how I’ll always remember him. Curled up in a tight ball under her crib, googly eyes glued to the door.

I knew the email would eventually come informing us that Oreo or Sammy had died, but I didn’t imagine it would hurt so much when it happened. I thought being here in PNG was a big enough break in my heart from them that it would be easier. But it’s not. Over time I will be able to see that even his death is from the merciful hand of God. He wasn’t doing well mentally, and only seemed to be getting worse. He was fully taken care of, but life was still hard for him to live. His death was quick and he had already spent his short years serving many people. And now he can rest. And now though the tears come in gushes at random times, very soon I’ll simply be able to remember Oreo as God’s beautifully ugly gift to our family.