My Missy girl has got a quirk;
when it gets cold, she goes berserk.
Then she becomes the sled dog queen;
I think it is her Husky gene.
Iditerods now, we complete;
she tries to pull me off my feet.
She drags me up and down the trail,
and all the time, just wags her tail.
To cold, she seems impervious,
and also to the times I cuss
when she jerks me into a tree
discovering some scent with glee.
Or helicoptering the leash…
I get that she does not capiche,
and so we all get tangled up:
that's me, six trees, my crazy pup.
But winter cold lights up her world,
so how could I deny my girl?
Be The Glue, Not The Wedge
Written: by Miracle man
5/8/2021
The steps we’ve taken in life have played a significant role
in bringing us to the spot that we occupy today.
Each of us has something that another desires.
Time, money, or something intangible,
and to obtain, many willingly break God’s commandments.
Too many are demanding to be the lead sled dog,
while constantly carping over the seating arrangements on the sled.
God sees value in all people,
but man hurls stones from a house of glass.
Husky
Fluffy, Fast
Howling, Growling, Pulling
Great sled dog
Husky
The leader is ahead, you know,
His head held high, his chest held low,
As he races through the snow,
Where he leads, the rest will go.
The harnessed dogs have aching feet,
A pound of fish is all they eat,
Yet they will never face defeat,
Till their job is all complete.
The pride of pulling is in their heart,
Till death will make their lives depart,
They will pull the rugged sleigh,
Until they see their final day.
They toil without one complaint,
They try to keep from being faint,
Sled dogs are, I know, a faithful saint,
A picture of Christ's life they paint,
He died faithfully for His greatest love,
He died so we may all be with Him above,
And if the sled dog loves pulling the sled so,
Jesus loved to save from sins, so much more you know?
I need to write another tale
But gosh, what will it be?
A pirate on his sailing ship
Tossed on angry seas?
Think I'll try a sled dog,
Mushing 'cross the snow,
He pulls the sled with all his might
And goes and goes and goes.
But what about a little fish
Wiggling through the brook,
Looking for a bite to eat,
Trying to avoid my hook.
Guess I'll have to think some more
Weighing all my thoughts
Until the right one hits me
I'll just have to stop.
Cile Beer
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