This is actually Mick the Wonder Dog in early training with our son, Joe.

When I pull into our neighborhood the last few evenings, I’ve seen my friend, David, exercising his dog. A golden retriever, I believe, with wonderful manners. Nicolas sometimes accompanies David to the office (upstairs from mine) and is pretty well-behaved. For a dog. There is still a lot of sniffing involved in his greetings.

Anyway, David was standing on his front step with a tennis racquet in his hand when I came home yesterday. I was about a block away when David whacked the tennis ball across the street and out into an empty field. Nicolas exploded from the yard in pursuit.

The dog snagged the ball and whirled around toward home. And I thought, “that stupid dog is going to race across the street right in front of me and make me slam on my brakes.” Before the thought had completely formed, though, David held out his arm with one hand flexed in a stop sign.

Nicolas obediently dropped to the ground from a dead run. He remained perfectly still with the tennis ball clutched in his jaws until I’d turned the corner and David motioned him on. My first thought was, “That is one well-trained dog.”

My next thought was stranger. I wondered if I stop and drop that way when my Master extends his hand. Do I respond to the promptings of God so willingly? Or am I too eager to prove my worth by fetching the ball? Do I just run on ahead as if I know what is best?

When I mentioned to David that I might blog about this, he wanted to make sure I included a disclaimer. He isn’t the local dog-whisperer, and Nicolas is not really a wonder dog. I just caught him having a very good day.

Yep. That’s what I’m going for. Every day.