He Cares

Smokey weighs four pounds.

But when wearing his tiny red puppy jacket, he weighs a few ounces more. Laurie, another friend, and Smokey were hiking a remote trail in the state of Washington. It was December and very cold; snow was falling.

A party with a dog passed the trio; Smokey bolted after the group. No amount of calling would bring him back, so Laurie and her friend started down also. There was no sign of the puppy at any point. They stopped at a home near the base of the trail and asked the man at the door to watch for the little guy. “I will,” he promised. “In fact, I’ll have my buddy, Brian, look for Smokey too. He knows the trail like the back of his hand.” Laurie and her friend returned to the trail and headed back up, praying and calling. At ten o’clock that night, they turned back, frozen and demoralized, fearful for their own safety in the dark, slippery terrain. Laurie alerted her husband, who was traveling, and her Facebook friends of Smokey’s situation. The prayers commenced.

A sleepless night followed. Early the next day, Laurie was back on the mountain. She was tired, anxious, cold, and frankly, somewhat doubtful that God actually cared about her personally, much less a little dog. Still, she plowed on, praying. At one point, when she didn’t think she could hike any higher (and was already higher than where she’d been when Smokey had taken off —downhill, remember), she concluded that Smokey must be gone for good. It had been thirty-six hours since he’d been seen, and Laurie couldn’t believe that he might still be alive.

She returned to a slightly widened spot in the trail and stopped to rest and think. That’s when she heard a sound from above her and watched, with little interest at first and through her miserable tears, a man round the corner.

He was holding a tiny red bundle in his arms.

It couldn’t be! But it was. Brian said, “Is he yours?” and thrust the bundle toward Laurie. “I found him in a hole he’d dug near the trail at thirty-five hundred feet (1,067 meters) elevation. He was sleeping.” Try to tell Laurie or her husband, Butch, that God doesn’t care. They believe He does, as do I. How about you?

Carolyn K. Karlstrom