[CraigT]

A couple of months after my big mental and emotional crash in the summer of 1999, I decided I needed to get a new Best Friend. I had just seen a movie in which Gene Hackman had a Jack Russell Terrier on board his submarine, and he claimed that the Jack was the smartest dog on the planet. Since I didn’t want to play second fiddle to anyone, the Jack Russell was the best friend for me. (I also knew that if I found one smart enough and cute enough, I might get some of the credit for the smart and cute part.)

I found the perfect pup and bestowed the coolest possible name I could come up with for the Jack Russell purebred registry. Francis Albert Sinatra was the king of cool and exemplified my love of classic music and swank retro style. Frankie had a new home.



I had done quite a bit of reading on Jacks and knew I was in for a handful. However, as was the story behind most of my bumps and bruises, I thought my special gift of uniqueness would ensure that I didn’t have the same level of challenge and aggravation every other JRT owner experienced. I was sadly mistaken. As they say here in Texas, I was in for a good old fashioned butt whuppin’.

When I first brought my new puppy home, I was sitting on the exact opposite side of reality. I thought I needed to teach this dog how things were done, the whole time unaware of the fact that God had put Frankie in my life to teach me some of the most important lessons I would ever learn.

A Walk on the Wild Side

After only a few days of having Frankie home I was ready to take him out for his first walk with his new collar and leash. I felt like the awkward high school boy who somehow was taking the best looking girl to the prom. I had visions of walking down the street with Frank’s head held high and chest puffed out as he pranced by my side. People would have no choice but to marvel at the sight of us. Frank was going to ride in the front seat with me as we cruised around town, pretending that he was ignoring all the turning heads and the sound of children’s voices shouting, “Hey mommy, look!” Frankie and I were going to be a team that would someday be compared to the greats, like The Lone Ranger and Tonto, or even Batman and Robin. This was going to be so cool.

After making sure I was presentable, I put Frankie’s collar on him. It was hard for either one of us to contain ourselves, we were both bursting with anticipation. But, all of this excitement came crashing down once I connected the leash to Frank’s collar. I was flabbergasted when Frankie insisted he would have nothing to do with the gosh-darned leash business. The tug of war started. Frankie put Houdini to shame when it came to the speed with which he was able to slip out of the collar. He had it off within seconds every time I put it back on with an ever-increasing tightness.

We squared off in the entryway of my house barking and growling obscenities at each other. My teeth were clenched like vice-grips as I sternly commanded, “Frankie, come here, NOW!” I chased him in circles through the living room into the kitchen and around the dining table, all the while screaming at him to “come HERE, you {bleep, bleep} dog!” Eventually, the realization came over me that Frank had more stamina to run in the tip of his tail than I had in my whole being.

Getting in Step

I stood there bent at the waist with my hands on my knees trying to catch my breath. I thought to myself, “Why would Frankie want to come to me when I am chasing and screaming at him? Would I want to come to someone much bigger and yelling at me?” To my amazement, Frankie walked right up to me like nothing had ever happened and cocked his head sideways, in typical Jack Russell fashion. He looked at me like he was asking, “Are you gonna be okay?” My heart and will were broken in this moment. I squatted down and just started loving on Frank. As he let me hug him tight, I said, “Frankie, if you will just relax and trust me, I will take you places that you could never go on your own. I will introduce you to people you could never meet by yourself. But son, you are going to have to relax and trust me.”

In this very moment, I had an overwhelming sense of God calling my attention to the words I had just spoke to Frankie. These words were not from me, but from God meant for me to hear. How long had I been running from God as he tried to get me ready for our walks out in public? I had spent years as an accomplished escape artist pulling God’s will off from around my neck. I then heard Him repeat his words to me. “Craig, if you will just relax and trust me, I will take you places you could never go on your own. I will introduce you to people, places and things that would be impossible for you to see without me.”

For years, I thought of God’s will for my life as a controlling collar and leash limiting my freedom. My perspective was about to change. One day, I called a dog trainer to set up some instruction for Frankie. During this call, I learned that professionals don’t use the word leash. They call it a lead. Upon hearing this further clarity came to God’s words for me. What I thought was a controlling leash was in reality a lead. Rather than restricting my freedom, God only wanted to lead me to walk with him to some amazing new destinations. He was never a taskmaster; rather, he wanted to be my loving leader and teacher.

Today, I can honestly say that by trusting this lead, I stay amazed at the doors that are opened for me. The introductions to the exact right person at the exact right time continue to flow without my manipulation. As I literally get on my knees each morning asking God to gift me with the knowledge of his will for me that day, I can boldly walk through the day and see the miracles he has along my path.

I have learned that just like Frankie’s natural Jack Russell instincts, if I follow my own desires, I end up playing in the oncoming traffic of life. I have felt the sting of the wounds from recklessly chasing my unfettered instincts. I had followed my own eating desires for years, feeling both the physical and emotion pain that it caused. God is the one who promised me the provision of food; yet, by allowing my self-will to run wild I was merely settling for the table scraps of life rather than the buffet of bountiful living that had been prepared for me. With the knowledge both of God’s amazing will for my life and of my own shortcomings, I now cherish the feel of his will worn around my neck, like a jeweled collar.

I may not always be the smartest pup in the pound, but I do have the biggest dad on the entire block.

And for this, I am very grateful.