I'm past 60 where life seems a little quieter, more patient, less demanding, less contentious. Folks long gone are more remembered; childhood is more missed, youth is forgiven. With the grey hair, that I'm still vain enough to dye, has come the understanding that life isn't forever and if I have something left to do, I better get with it.
This is Bachgen, son of Blue, my good dog. I love dogs. I can hardly stand to watch a movie with a dog in it. My heart is so tender, and I can't take it when something happens to the dog (and it always does in the movies).
I often tell my cowboy that I think God told the woman, "You gotta go down and help this guy. I promised him help to do what's right. He needs an angel and I think you could do the job. You go down and do your best to be good and do good."
Then he told the horse. "You gotta go down and help this guy. I promised him I'd give him the strength to do what I told him to do. You know I gave him that commandment about, "by the sweat of thy face shalt thou eat bread all the days of thy life." He's only got two legs and his not strong enough or fast enough to do his work so you go down and do your best to help him get his work done."
And he told the dog, "You gotta go down and help this guy. Lots of times he'll have crabby days or do stupid things and maybe even be mean. He's liable to make folks so mad he'll feel like nobody loves him. And you know I promised I'd always love him. You go down and do your best to show him how I love him. Love him like I do, unconditionally."
So the cowboy got a woman, a horse, and a dog as gifts from a Father-in-Heaven who knows how much help he would need. We all love and help our cowboys because that's what God asked us to do.