The Story of Nash

"Delight yourself in the LORD and he will give you the desires of your heart." Psalm 37:4

What is this verse all about anyway?

There are two ways to look at it: God will give you whatever your heart desires if you delight in Him, or He will put the desires in your heart that He wants you to have so He can fulfill them. That’s the one I lean toward.

I have had my dog Dasha for ten years now. I may blog her story another day. She is very much my baby, but shortly after Don and I got married, I started wanting another dog, specifically a black male cockapoo puppy. I didn’t know where that desire came from exactly; I just knew I wanted one, in spite of Don, a dog lover but very practical, insisting that we didn’t need another dog.

Don did agree to get a bunny, so I thought maybe that would fill the void (don’t try this at home), but alas, I still longed for my black male cockapoo puppy. I stopped in at pet stores at the mall to gaze at the puppies and see if maybe they would have one that was so cute it would win Don over. I searched through the classifieds hoping to find one that was inexpensive enough that he couldn’t pass it up. All to no avail.

Then one day my sister-in-law (who knew my desire) told me about a friend of hers who happened to have a black male cockapoo puppy that she wanted to get rid of. I talked to her friend, and she warned me that the puppy wasn’t housebroken, but I innocently assumed that he was just too much for her because she had small children and another dog as well. I was sure that he was the perfect dog for us. He was already neutered and had had all his shots. Besides, he needed us. I pleaded my case to Don, and he reluctantly agreed that we could get him.

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We waited until after Christmas and then made an appointment to go meet him. Well, he wasn’t the cute, cuddly puppy I had in mind. He was a five-month-old adolescent and, let’s face it, an oddball. In fact, this family had gotten him for a really good price when he was three months old because the breeder couldn’t get rid of him. His hair was a mess. Apparently his puppy coat had been straight, and then his hair later came in curly. Since it had never been cut, he had curls all over with straight strands sticking out at the ends. One of his long, skinny legs had a big spot of mange on it. He had a funny way of walking, sort of a gallop. Don said, "That is an ugly dog! Are you sure you want him?"

Well, we ended up bringing him home, mainly because I felt sorry for him. The first thing he did when we brought him in our house was lift his leg and pee on our refrigerator. While I was cleaning that up, he ran into our bedroom and jumped up on our bed and peed on there. The next day he grabbed Don’s sandwich from Arby’s off the kitchen table and ate it when no one was looking. He tormented poor Dasha endlessly. He chased our bunny with an intent to kill. He destroyed our shoes and chewed up our laundry. He peed, and peed, and peed. Everywhere. Inside, outside, on the floor, on the furniture. Everywhere. I didn’t know a dog his size could hold so much pee.

I knew I just had to be patient. With some dedicated attention, I could get him trained quickly. After all, I had housebroken Dasha in a couple of weeks. How naïve I was.

I tried gentle correction. I tried putting him in time out. I yelled. I spanked him. I diligently cleaned up every puddle with a cleaner that eliminated the scent. I took him out every half hour. I confined him to small areas. I tried to reason with him and explain to him why he could not pee in the house. I stuck his nose in it and told him "no!" I commended him when he went where he was supposed to. I withheld water except at scheduled times. I even read up on bladder problems in dogs and ruled that out as a possibility. For seven long months I tried every strategy I could possibly come up with. Don tried too. NOTHING worked for this dog.

Finally one day I was at my wits’ end. Nash had followed me into our guest room (where the door was usually shut) and jumped up on the bed and promptly peed on the quilt that my mom had made for me by hand. I caught him in the act and started screaming. He took off running. I chased him, and when I caught him, I beat the tar out of him.
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That was a turning point. We had a few accidents after that, but I think that was the thing that finally got through to him. That was a year ago. I have since taken him to obedience school where he learned a few manners, and today, July 25, he celebrates his second birthday. I have let him live. He has taught me patience and perseverance, and I can say that now he is a good dog who is very friendly and loveable. And thankfully, housebroken. With maturity and a haircut, he’s not bad looking either. He is still full of antics, but for the most part they aren’t destructive and make us laugh a lot. Don often says, "I didn’t like Nash when we got him, but now I really do." Even Dasha has had a change of heart. And he has stolen my heart altogether.
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I believe that God knew He was going to have this little dog who would need a home, so He began putting the desire in my heart for the "black male cockapoo puppy" that He was going to give me. Nash didn’t exactly come in the package that I had expected, but I can now finally believe that he was a gift from God.