This has been a hard winter. Not the weather – so far it has been mild with little snow. This week we will get some brutal cold for a week or so, but it is January in the Northern Rockies after all. 
It isn’t the work or prep that was hard – all that went along well and we have all we need to do chores – I even have a coat but prefer to wear my own, with a chance for a good snow roll and a few snowdog angels instead.
But this winter has been impossibly, painfully, irreversibly hard, because the old cowboy I called dad passed through the gates of heaven.
He was my dad since last March when I arrived here, nearly a year. We got along right off, but I spent most of my time with mom. I knew they had lost a great dog the year before I came, and dad was still heartbroken. In fact, he didn’t ever want another dog.
But there was a cowdog out there that needed them – me!
He often said how glad he was that I was more “Mom’s dog”, that I stuck close to her, chose her for mine, even though I naturally loved and protected the whole family – even those infernal cats, most of the time. I think he knew, ‘way back then, that she would need me when he wasn’t here to love and protect.
Dad was old and had bad lungs and a weak heart.
But he had absolute conviction, for years, that he had an eternal home in heaven with Jesus. He said many times that he was ready to go home, and I knew he didn’t mean our cabin at the ranch.
I knew he was getting sicker – I spent time with him, staring, letting him pet me. When he got the flu, I tried to sit behind him on the couch – I knew.
Now my job is to stick even closer to mom, to be a blessing and help carry on.
We will see him again, that is sure.
How do I know?
“For God so loved the world that he gave His only son, that whoever believes in him should not perish but have eternal life.”
That is what dad knew and shared with everyone he met. I know he can breathe easy now, and is rejoicing in the unimaginable glory of heaven. We are sure that someday we’ll be there, too.
Are you?
