A Dog Named Cheeseburger

I couldn’t put my finger on why, exactly, but I had been feeling far away from God lately, like he wasn’t really hearing me.

A case of the spiritual blues, I guess.

The sweltering heat didn’t help—August here in Georgia can get pretty unbearable. It was 100 degrees today, and really sticky. I turned up the air conditioner in my car full blast, ready to head home from my errands.

That’s when I saw the dog.

He lay on top of a lumpy Army-green duffel bag right on the walk outside Applebee’s restaurant. No shade. Sleeping, or at least I hoped he was. Why, he could be dead in this heat!

I pulled in and found a parking spot then I hurried over to the dog. I bent down. “Hi, fella. You thirsty?”

I love dogs and they like me. But this one—he was medium-sized, black, graying around the muzzle—opened one eye, then shut it and turned his head away from me. Deliberately. His tail didn’t budge.

He had a collar, and by the way he was guarding the duffel bag, I figured he was waiting for his owner, who was no doubt sitting inside the restaurant in air-conditioned comfort!

I stormed into Applebee’s, ready to do battle. Right away, I spotted the owner. He sat alone at the counter, a tall glass of iced tea in front of him. Longish wavy blond hair and a goatee.

Thin, like he didn’t always get enough to eat. He was wearing jeans that had seen better days, but they were clean, though his hands had what could have been faint paint stains. He seemed to sense me coming and turned on the stool to face me.

“That your dog?” I demanded.

“Yes, ma’am, he is.”

“He’s in the sun and has no water. I imagine he’s hungry too.” I must have raised my voice because some people stared at me. “Dogs like me, but he wouldn’t even open both eyes when I spoke to him.”

The man broke into a slow, easy grin. He slid off the stool. “That’s because he hasn’t been properly introduced to you. Come on. I’ll do the honors.”

Introduced? I followed him outside.

He squatted down next to the dog, who sat up and fastened his eyes onto his owner. His tail came alive.

“Ma’am, I don’t know your name.”

“Marion.” I bent close to them.

“Marion, I’d like you to meet Cheeseburger. Cheeseburger, this nice lady is Marion.” The dog looked right into my eyes and offered a paw.

I took it. “Hi, Cheeseburger,” I said.

He licked my hand and his tail shifted into high gear.

“And I’m Johnny,” the man said.

“Johnny, I’m afraid he’s thirsty.”