Faith, Found Again

When her sister Lucretia passed, Maria received a German shepherd dog by will. Around his neck was a red silk ribbon, and attached to the ribbon was a white envelope with a wax seal. She recognized her sister’s familiar cursive handwriting.

“My dear sister,

His name is Jesus, that’s with a ‘hey.’ I know you’re alone in our old house, and you need him.”

Maria perceived the double message in her sister’s words.
Her family, of Spanish decent and Roman Catholic faith, attended church service every day possible during the siblings’ younger years. As the girls grew older, they witnessed their family fall apart; and although Lucretia held steadfast to her religious ways and hopeful throughout, Maria found she was slowly losing her faith. After the astonishing death of her parents in a plane crash left her by herself in the house she had grown up in, she decided that since she felt God had given up on her, she would give up on Him.

“Love him; take care of him like I would. He’ll do the same in return.

Maria, I love you always.

And remember, He won’t put you through anything He knows for a fact you cannot handle.

- L.”

The woman sighed after finishing her late older sister’s note and looked over her white-rimmed glasses at the black and tan puppy. He was lying, panting softly, in the cushioned bed in which he had been delivered to her.
“Jesus,” she spoke his name tenderly.
His ears perked up; he already knew his name very well. Jesus trotted gleefully over to his new friend. His baby pink tongue ran over her bare toes, and she jumped back.
“No!” she pointed at him. “Don’t do that.”
He pawed at her feet. His mindset was to play, but she had other ideas.

Maria didn’t like dogs.



The puppy years of Jesus’ life were filled with aggravation emanating from Maria and the quest for fulfillment on the dog’s end. It seemed that the only reason Lucretia had gifted her with the animal was to cause more stress in the woman’s life.
Jesus was full of curiousity and the longing to always be by Maria’s side. For this reason, Maria confined him to the laundry room in her house. His escape was blocked by baby gates in either doorway. She took care of him well, just like her sister had requested; but that was as far as her relationship would go with Jesus.
When he grew big enough and learned to climb over the baby gates, Maria upped the ante and bought him a crate, only letting him out for restroom breaks and, every so often, to roam the lush front yard of the Spanish home.



One day, later in both of their lives, Jesus was gnawing contently on a flavored bone—a rare reward from Maria to him—when the skin on the back of his neck prickled and the hair there stood straight. He listened intently. He could hear Maria’s footsteps in the kitchen. Everything seemed to be fine, but he could feel something wrong in the house. He whined and pawed at the crate’s black sliding locks.
“¿Qué pasa, perrito?” Maria asked, coming into the living room.
Jesus was antsy, walking in circles in the large crate. She slipped open the locks and left the door open to comfort him and resumed her chores in the kitchen.
Jesus breathed easier, but only for a moment. In the kitchen, a heavy thud followed a loud crash. He raced into the room with Maria to find her body shivering violently on the floor. She was unable to speak or control her movement. Jesus took the collar of her shirt in his mouth.
He pulled and pulled, but was unable to move her anywhere at all. He barked. He ran around the house. He barked some more. Maria’s body stopped shaking. Jesus licked at her cheek and laid down beside her.

At six o’ clock in the morning, the cleaning service let themselves in the front door.



Maria woke in a hospital one day after her seizure and immediately asked for her dog. He willingly hopped up on the white linen and curled up beside her.
A nurse changing her IV bag smiled down at him, “Who is this?”
Maria stroked the black fur on Jesus’ back. “He never gave up on me. He stayed with me when I was seizing. He made sure I was protected all along. His name is Jesus, and I believe in him.”