I should have died that night. Sometimes life takes a strange spin and events happen that turn out different than one imagines. Think of an old gnarled tree with lots of branches and each branch is a decision you can make or a path you can take in your life. The night of my accident, I was decidedly on the wrong branch and I could almost hear the creaking of the wood as it started to splinter.
All I wanted was a pack of cigarettes. Sure it was late, I’d had a few glasses of White Zin and whenever I drink wine I want a smoke. Did I have any at the house? Of course not; I had quit smoking several months prior and the craving was like voices in my head. Anyone who has tried to quit smoking understands the voices. They’re like two little GI Joes on your shoulders; one an angel and the other a devil and they continually argue with each other while flailing their little moveable limbs until you want to quickly duck your head while simultaneously moving both your left and right hands and smashing the everloving crap out of them.
“You know you want a cigarette. You know you are going to get in your car and buy a pack so quit wasting time talking yourself out of it and go buy a pack of smokes,” said the little devil action figure on my left shoulder.
“No, you don’t want to buy cigarettes. Look how long you have gone without them and I’m so proud of you,” argued the little angel action figure on my right shoulder. Shut up! Enough! I rarely argued with my voices because it was easier to give in plus when I argued with them people tended to stare at me…a lot…particularly when I have these discussions in a public place. But I was in no mood for them tonight.
Flicking off my action figures, I plucked my car keys from the key holder by the back door, dropped them on the kitchen floor, picked them up again and wobbled out to my car. I wasn’t drunk yet, just a little buzzed, and the convenience store was just down the road a bit; that’s why it’s convenient. Drinking always brings out the silliness in me and I really enjoyed my convenience store joke. I was giggling like a fool as I revved up my car.
Having rained earlier, it was foggy and difficult to see the unlit country road on which I was driving entirely too fast. Just in time, I spotted the three deer as they began to cross the road right ahead of me. I slammed on the brakes, but the road was slick from the rain. While I thought I had successfully stopped short of the deer, in truth the car decided to keep going…sideways as it turned out…off the road and into a tree. Yep – I was wrapped around one of those branches of my life and this one looked none too sturdy.
The last thing I remember was thanking Jesus for sending me the deer. You see I had this thing going with Jesus. Whenever I was feeling low about my life, Jesus would send me a deer or two or three and just the sight of them would cheer me up and reassure me that He was there and I wasn’t alone. I know…I’m probably certifiable in your eyes, but it only matters to me and Jesus – and we know who sends those deer. I often wonder if the deer get a message from Jesus prior to appearing before me, something on the order of “Hey deer, in 9 minutes I want you to be crossing Oxbow Road because one of my children will drive by and she needs to see you – I promised her a visit soon.” Note to self: can deer tell time? Now that was really funny and I giggled some more – a deer with a Timex. Takes a licking and keeps on ticking – oh I was so cracking myself up.
I must have blacked out. One minute I was driving along and the next thing I know my eyes were closed and my head and neck hurt. I opened my eyes slowly to the sight of a huge tree branch that had come straight through my windshield just missing my head by inches. Shards of glass were all over the seat; my chest felt like it had been welded to the steering wheel and there were at least several pints of blood running down my face. Well, maybe only one pint. Seeing that massive piece of wood within grazing distance of my right cheek scared the bejeebers out of me. There but for the grace of God and all that.
I knew I was really in trouble when I noticed I had company in the passenger seat. I figured I had a concussion and was hallucinating because there was no other possible reason a big reddish brown dog would be sitting in my car grinning at me. I don’t own a dog. But there he sat and, yes, he was grinning with his pink doggie tongue sticking out the side of his mouth.
It crossed my jumbled mind that I should do something; I just wasn’t sure what to do first. I wondered about attempting something logical like groping around for my cell phone to dial 911, and as I gingerly moved around the hunk of tree to look for my phone, the dog turned to me and said, “Jesus says to tell you He doesn’t mind sending the deer but you really need to do a better job of paying attention to your driving and, oh yeah, knock off the drinking and smoking nonsense.”
“Excuse me?,” I mumbled in the general direction of the dog. I fully realize that was a pretty lame response on my part. I’m answering a dog that shouldn’t be there in the first place, let alone have the audacity to lecture me on my human habits. I was fresh out of witty retorts as my head hurt and this blood thing was getting on my last nerve. I told myself the accident had scrambled my brains and the vision of this mutt would go away as soon as the ambulance guys arrived. Where the heck was my cell phone?
I sat there awhile longer mopping blood off my head with the edge of my Washington Redskins tee shirt. The team shirts are burgundy so I didn’t think a little blood would hurt the shirt too much. As I mopped up and tried not to look at my canine companion he piped up with, “You need to get out of this car. You can wipe the blood off later. And, no, the stains won’t come out of the shirt but the Redskins aren’t worthy of your adoration anyway and you should seriously consider giving your remaining Redskins apparel to charity. For now, unhook your seatbelt, open your door, get out and quickly move away from the car. About 15 feet should do it.”
“Yeah, right, I’m gonna take orders from some flea-ridden mangy refugee from the local pound. Why am I even answering you?”
“You will pay attention to me because I am a messenger sent to you from God and for your information, I do not have mange, or fleas, nor have I escaped from any pound. Kindly get your large human ass out of this car and I suggest you run if at all possible and quickly, as in NOW.” Man, nothing like a chatty dog with an attitude. He did have a good command of English vocabulary; I’d give him that. Who am I to argue with a hallucination? I regularly talk to two guys who sit on opposing shoulders weighing the pros and cons of most of my life decisions without any input from me.
So I undid my seatbelt, shoved the door open, sort of fell out of the car, got back up and did my best impression of stumbling away from the car – about 15 feet, just like my dog hallucination told me. As I tripped over the underbrush and fell on the ground, I saw the mutt had kept up with me and was now leaping on top of me – ouch – what the…? And then my car…the one that still had 27 payments left…blew up.
I looked up at the dog and wheezed out the command, “Get. Off. Me” “You could at least say thank you,” he replied. “After all, I did save you from at least third degree burns while singeing some of my own fur. The least you can do is show a little appreciation.”
“Who in blue blazes are you anyway?”
“I believe I already answered that rude question…I’m here on a mission from God,” replied the dog.
“You’re on a mission from God?? Are you kidding me; that’s a bad line from The Blues Brothers and now you’re just messing with me.”
“I assure you, young woman, it’s true and by the way, I’ve read the latest postings under your name in The Book of Life and I must tell you, I fail to understand why Jesus keeps you around. All I can think is He seems to have a soft spot where you are concerned. Hence, He not only sent the deer He sent me, too.”
Feeling in need of a drink and temporarily forgetting the cigarette situation, I started limping in the direction of my house. Fuzzy warrior canine followed me. I know this because I kept turning around only to find him bringing up the rear. He made a stop or two at a few mailboxes and a fire hydrant, but by the time I was at my door, he was right there next to me ready to follow me into my house totally uninvited.
Once inside, I made a beeline for the bathroom, washed off what turned out to be only a superficial wound, relieved a very full bladder and decided a glass of wine was in order. I opened the bathroom door and there was Mr. red-brown mutt sitting staring up at me. Oh crap, my hallucination was still here.
“Got anything to eat?” I seem to have worked up an appetite and I could use a snack if you don’t mind.” Great, I not only had a talking smelly dog hallucination, now he was demanding I feed him.
Taking a different approach, I patted him on his head and asked, “What’s your name fella?”
“Jesus calls me Gabe, and stop patting me on my head. Contrary to popular belief, that is not a pleasant sensation.”
Well, great…my car was totaled in a fiery mess down the road, my head was splitting and I had a dog following me around claiming to be Jesus’ pet. What next? Trumpets blowing? A burning bush perhaps?
Wine, I needed wine. As I went in search of a new bottle, Gabe followed me into the kitchen, his doggie nails clicking annoyingly on my tile floor. “Would you please just go away and leave me in peace?”
“Nope, Jesus sent me here specifically to have a talk with you about the direction your life is taking. And calm down; I’m not really a dog, I’m an angel. God simply felt you would respond better to a dog than a strange human. He knows you have a warm spot for animals and he likes to use what is readily available. So put down the bottle, grab a Diet Coke instead, and don’t make me ask you again – fix me a hamburger; saving humans is hard work.”
I put down the wine bottle and walked over to a corner cabinet. “If you take out that old bag of crusty dog kibble and try to feed it to me I swear to you woman, I will bite you on the ankle. There is hamburger in your refrigerator. Take it out and cook it – I prefer mine medium rare.”
I did as he asked. It was going to be a long night
Though he claimed to be an angel, Gabe acted like a typical dog. He wolfed down two hamburgers, belched, strolled into my living room and hopped up on my couch.
“That’s better, thanks,” he said. Now I don’t have much more time so let’s get a few things straight. Jesus isn’t fooling around here – He specifically told me to warn you that He has other plans for you and to stop trying to thwart Him.”
“Thwart?” You use words like ‘thwart’?” I burst into a fit of giggles. “I’m sorry, it’s bad enough I am actually listening to a dog claiming to be an angel named Gabe and now you say the word, ‘thwart’. How can you possibly expect me to take you seriously? No self-respecting dog would ever use that word.”
About that time, the light in the room changed – Gabe took on a strange ethereal glow. The best way I can describe it is to simply say he started to shimmer. I decided maybe I should just shut up and listen to whatever this animal, angel, or apparition was trying to tell me.
“That’s better,” remarked the dog. I only have a few minutes left. Believe me when I say, you ARE special in His eyes, He DOES have plans for you, and you need to clean up your act and quit being a pain in His holy backside. Capiche? “
Gabe got off the couch, went to my front door and stood there looking back at me. I walked over to the door and opened it for him. He strolled out to the front porch, turned around and looked up at me, “Thanks for the hamburger, I gotta pee, see ya around.”
The nurses in the Intensive Care Unit were amazed when the young woman came out of her coma. The doctors had said there was virtually no chance she would recover.
Her first words were, “What happened?”
Holding her hand, the kindly older nurse said, “My dear you were in a horrible car accident. Apparently you swerved to keep from hitting a dog and ran into a tree.”
“A dog?” Did I hurt him?” The young woman started to cry at the thought of killing a child’s favored pet.
“No dear, the dog is fine. He was wearing a collar and a tag with the name “Gabriel.” The police called the number on the dog tag and a nice man came and took the dog home. Now, you just relax and I’ll get the doctor. We’re so happy to have you back with us.”
Parchment Monkey 