A lesson from Jasper

I'm glad God isn't like me. Reason?

I took Jasper out for a romp and a pee this evening. It was a fairly standard outing. I let him off leash, he went snooping around the yard and then promptly disappeared.

When he emerged from the foliage a few minutes later he looked particularly impish so I went over to inspect his state of shenaniganry.

What I found was Jasper Lee in the banana bushes with the avocado.

"Oh great," I thought. "This will be fun."

"Jasper. Drop it."

Jasper, with mouth FULL of avocado, "Drop what?"

"Seriously? Drop it."

"What‽"


"Ok. You want to play it that way, fine. Yard time is over. And you are sooo in time out when we get back."

Jasper maintains his "I-don't-have-anything-in-my-mouth-especially-not-a-7-inch-avocado" face as we head back to the apartment.

I look at him and shake my head. I'm not going to let him in the house with this thing in his mouth. He's just going to drop it and its slimy innards on our once-white carpet. I sigh and try again.

"Jasper, off." Nothing. "Jasper, drop it." Nothing. "JASPER." I reach my hand down near his mouth.


"Growl." 


"Oh, no you didn't," I say with loathing. He hasn't exactly caught me on one of my particularly patient days. In a split second Jasper takes two pirana bites, trying to get as much of the slimy mess down his gullet as possible. I snap.

"FINE! EAT IT! I hope it causes you extreme pain!!!"

In the process of swallowing, half of the avocado dropped out of his mouth. I darted in and plucked it from beneath him, neatly depositing it in the trash can nearby. "Don't you DARE throw that up on my carpet."

I'm so glad God isn't like me. I'm glad he is a God with heaps of patience who doesn't wish us physical harm when we are belligerent.