POST by LIZ: Oso Watching Over Me

Although my flubbery-jubbery bits don´t proclaim it, I really love to exercise.  I often wrestle with my tennis shoes, after I´ve squeezed into my bargain-gained purple Nike workout top, and slathered on the lycra leggings. Finally, I pick up two large cans of tomato soup and put heel to dirt and walk. 

Sometimes Jed or a beloved offspring will join me; we walk at a good speed while talking about this or that.  Other times it´s just Oso and me daring to venture out on the dusty, winding roads. 

Oso knows when I´m off on my butt-tightening, calf-straining mission. He hears the front door open, the jangle of the choker-chain and he´s by my side in seconds.     

As soon as we pass through the heavy metal gate and protected walls we are both on a mission: me to work up a sweat and get my heart pumping. Oso to fight off any threat I might encounter while completing my mission.  

The loyalty to our family comes from the Retriever side, the instinct to protect by attacking first, and ask no questions later, comes from the Belgian Sheepdog side.

I remember early days when Oso showed his protective nature.

We were having a Sunday afternoon family moment at a park in Mexico. The kids were having a wonderful time sliding down the rusty slide, twirling on the imbalanced roundabout, and hanging from the towering monkey bars.

Oso was behaving himself so we decided to reward him with some freedom.  We loosened the extended chain and allowed him to roam. 

Immediately he joined in on the fun.  Pushing Raf on the swing with his nose, playing tag with Sez on the fort, and enjoying Francesca and Lorenzy´s failed attempts to teach him how to fetch.   

Suddenly he sensed danger, and as quick as a flash he sprang into action. 

To our horror he attacked the front wheel of an oncoming bicycle and sent the 14 year-old rider flying over the handle-bars.  He then chased off three skateboarders while we Briens madly dashed after him.  In Oso´s mind the park belonged to the Briens and no one else was invited to play.

When we walk, he has the same mentality.  The road belongs to us and it is his duty to keep the road clear of anything or anyone who thinks otherwise. 

Riders on malnourished, beaten down horses, ox-driven carts over-stacked with firewood and moto taxis, which are half putt-putt (aka: a very slow motorcycle in the UK), half rickshaw and glued together with political propaganda - are sent veering off the road.

Men, women and children are forced to the edge of the ditches to make way for me to pass. Stray dogs rummaging through trash, dogs protecting their owner´s shacks, and worm-hunting chickens are attacked if they dare come too close.

Falling branches, swaying trees and moving grass are all snipped at, eradicating any potential, disguised threat. 

Even the air-circling dust caused by vehicles passing by is confronted.  

As Oso, the bodyguard, moves in all directions around me, I am able to keep a steady pace and permit my power working arms, with tomato soup cans attached, to mechanically move with no hitches.

With Oso busy fighting evil, I am at liberty to appreciate the beauty of this rural setting. 

As I pass ancient trees with their strong roots exposed, I imagine my father´s didactic voice.  

We would often go for family walks at Snuff Mills, Blaise Castle, or Westbury on Trym and enjoy the beautiful English country side.

My Dad would ponder on prehistoric foliage with visible roots that firmly grasped the dirt.  He´d confide in me how this image metaphorically represented his spiritual life and he´d encourage me to cling to my Creator like the roots clung to the ground, and actively live a life that was rooted in God.   

I am brought back to the present by the smells of my local community. 

I wave hello to Freddy, a sixteen-year-old local, droving his father´s cattle. I protect my lungs as I pass the blue smoking spot fires burning toxic waste. I smile at the crowded bus spewing pore-sweat-drenched bodies out of its windows and doors, and I nod my head politely at the pulperìa vendors who are arranging the packaged bread for the day.        

When we return from our workout, we both dive into the pool and cool off.  Although I check off “daily workout” from my mental checklist and relax in the surrounding waters, Oso is always watching and willing to protect as he swims close by.  

Psalm 91

¹ Whoever dwells in the shelter of the Most High
will rest in the shadow of the Almighty.^[a]
2 I will say of the LORD, “He is my refuge and my fortress,
my God, in whom I trust.”

³ Surely he will save you
from the fowler’s snare
and from the deadly pestilence.
⁴ He will cover you with his feathers,
and under his wings you will find refuge;
his faithfulness will be your shield and rampart.
⁵ You will not fear the terror of night,
nor the arrow that flies by day,
⁶ nor the pestilence that stalks in the darkness,
nor the plague that destroys at midday.
⁷ A thousand may fall at your side,
ten thousand at your right hand,
but it will not come near you.
⁸ You will only observe with your eyes
and see the punishment of the wicked.

⁹ If you say, “The LORD is my refuge,”
and you make the Most High your dwelling,
¹⁰ no harm will overtake you,
no disaster will come near your tent.
¹¹ For he will command his angels concerning you
to guard you in all your ways;
¹² they will lift you up in their hands,
so that you will not strike your foot against a stone.
¹³ You will tread on the lion and the cobra;
you will trample the great lion and the serpent.

¹⁴ “Because he loves me,” says the LORD, “I will rescue him;
I will protect him, for he acknowledges my name.
¹⁵ He will call on me, and I will answer him;
I will be with him in trouble,
I will deliver him and honor him.
¹⁶ With long life I will satisfy him
and show him my salvation.”