A dog to be remembered

Sunday mornings are a leisurely time in many households, but they certainly weren't in my home. Church services began at eight thirty in the morning. Mom was one of the Choir, and Dad was the Minister so we have to be there early. That meant me and my brother had to be washed and dressed with our hair neatly combed by the time Mom and Dad left the house. As you'd expect, there was a lot of hurrying around to make sure everyone was ready on time. That was trouble enough, because I had another problem on my hands, my dog King.

Every morning, King was let out by the first person who got up. When we called him back, he'd usually come running right away. But not in this particular Sunday. I called and coaxed for as long as I could. But King was simply nowhere to be found. Unable to locate my disappearing dog, I gave up in despair and headed off to church, leaving King outdoors somewhere.

We arrived at church and got settled in, with Mom at the left corner and Dad sitting in front. After some hymns and prayers, Dad began his sermon. As Dad began to warm to his subject, I thought I heard something unusual. No one else seemed to hear it though. But then it came again, louder. It sounded like something was scratching at the church door. Then the scratching sound was followed by the plaintive sound of a lonely dog howling. All the grown ups pretended not to hear anything, leaning forward in their pews so they could hear every word of the minister oration. But I know the howl. Only one dog in the neighborhood made that sound.

The wailing continued and Dad paused for a moment, I was so scared that my Dad will get angry for I saw furrowing his brow in frustration. He didn't want to have to compete with a howling hound, so he signaled to the usher was not quick enough for King. As soon as he opened the door, in bounded my dog with a smug look on his face! He strolled up the aisle, cool as you please, as congregation and minister looked on aghast. When King got to where I sat, he just plopped down and sat quietly. A murmur went around the church and there were some smiles and nodding of heads. Dad, determined to ignore this unusual canine caper, resumed his sermon.

One Sunday morning happened to be one of those rare Sundays when we didn't go to the morning service. Mom and Dad went somewhere, my brother was with his friend and I went with my best friend house. However, I didn't informed King of the change in our schedule. After we attended the evening service, we heard the story that in the morning, King had made a commotion at the church door until once again he was let in. Again he sauntered down the aisle until he reached the place where I usually sit. King stood stock still for a moment, staring at the female sitting in my chair. Then, when he had determined to his satisfaction that she was definitely not me, he returned to the church door and made it clear that he was not interested in attending this particular service.

I promised to myself that I will bring King every time we go to church even if this is quite embarrassing for my dad for he have to explain to the people about my unusual dog. I know that there were some people who weren't all that happy to see a dog in the church.

King passed away because of heart attack. There were many Sundays when King repeated his demonstrations of religious piety and family loyalty. Shortly after King passed away, dad came and he was consoling me over my loss. Dad said, "if there is a heaven for dogs, you can be assured King will be scratching at the door.. and when it is opened, he will be given a place right up front with the best of them." I love King and I will never have a dog like him again.