For all the years he was a Service Dog, Rodney was not absent from either Sue or me for more than an hour or two at a time. Only occasionally when we would go to church or across the road to the grocery store we might leave him behind.

And so it was important to me after I lost Sue that I would find a flexible job that would allow me to not only spend summers at Waterbrooks but that Rodney could be part of my job scene.

The two of us returned from Vermont a few weeks ago and resumed the office position at my brother’s welding fabrication plant. I had worked a few months last winter, getting familiar with QuickBooks and a whole new language of steel and metal. It’s a different world, filled with sparks and arcs and black dust everywhere!

Rodney settled right into the routine, on his cushion bed under my desk, with a big brown floppy stuffed dog next to his head. He adjusted to the schedule easier than I did!

It was right after lunch today when I decided to carry some empty boxes out to the big blue dumpster.

“Outside, Rodney!” I called, raising my voice a little bit to make sure he could hear me.

Still a bouncing puppy at heart, at 14 and ½, his eyes are getting a little cloudy with cataracts and his ears are not as sharp as they were when he served as a Hearing Dog for Sue Thomas.

My heart warmed as I watched him run across the large gravel lot to the grassy edge. If a little creature like this dog can bring me a surge of joy, how much more joy he brings his Creator! And if God enjoys His creation, then so should I!

Rodney stopped to do his business, keeping his dark eyes focused on me.

I was just standing there in the pelting wintry mix tightly holding those broken dirty cardboard boxes, so I decided to dash over to the dumpster and dispose of them while he was occupied so I could get back to the dry inside.

It wasn’t even 20 seconds but when I turned around Rodney was gone. Completely vanished.

I kept calling and calling but I knew his hearing was failing and that sounds were distorted. I felt my chest tightened with fear. The out-of-doors here was unfamiliar. And dangerous.

The Plant is on several acres on the furthest edge of town at the end of a gravel driveway but parallel with the road. I wove back and forth between welding trucks and trailers, checking behind the storage shed on the neighboring property, looking in the ditch along the property line. I even ran down the driveway to the road hoping he had not gotten confused thinking we were back at the cabin in Vermont.

As a committed and well-trained service dog, Rodney is not one to take off on a joyride. And as he’s aged, he simply feels most secure to have me in his sights at all times. Even at home he follows me from room to room.

No Rodney. It was as if he vanished in thin air!

One of the employees of the neighboring business saw me dashing around and asked if everything was okay.

“I’ve lost my dog!” I was breathless and completely befuddled. So Austin joined me, calling for Rodney and checking to see if he had collapsed in the long grass between the two properties.

By now my heart was pounding in my ears and I could feel panic rising in my chest as I ran down the long side of the building calling his name. How could I have lost this sweet mellow yellow fellow when we have such a bonded connection? Plus Sue trusted me with him! How could I have lost her dog?

Maybe someone opened the front entrance door and he went back inside. Quickly, I checked my office area and the back storage room.

No Rodney.

I pushed through the heavy gray metal door with the yellow sign blazing “Authorized Personnel Only.”

Shane must have seen my disheveled and discombobulated state. “Is something the matter?” he asked raising his voice over the sound of the heavy industrial equipment.

“It’s Rodney. He’s gone. I can’t find him anywhere.”

A couple of the guys put down their welders and tore off outside with me. The search party spread out calling for Rodney.

I decided to retrace my steps one more time and headed back toward the dumpster area. Behind the blue dumpster is a huge gray container of scrap metal, then there is a line of oversized overhead garage doors for trucks and telehandlers.

I never go on that side of the building. No, no, no, my heart kept thumping.

Then I saw it.

A golden flag waving in front of the employee man-door entrance to the shop area. It was Rodney, totally drenched but standing at attention, nose to the door, waiting for someone to open it.

Poor Rodney was standing at the wrong door, unable to get in. Lost. Wet. Miserable.

I ran toward him waving my arms so he could see me. ‘He’s been found! Here he is!” I yelled as loudly as I could, not caring what I sounded like. The men shouted to each other and came running towards us.

Rodney eagerly raced towards us, jumping and dancing around as if to say, where have you been and what took you so long?

I felt such a sense of relief and joy, and I’m sure my pup did, too!

Just like the story Jesus told about the man who had a hundred sheep but lost one of them.

He left the 99 behind in the pasture and went looking for the one that was lost until he found it! And when he found it, he joyfully put it on his shoulders, brought it home, and called together his friends and neighbors to say, “rejoice with me for I have found the one that was lost!”

The same kind of Exuberant Joy rings throughout Heaven, and those who are in the presence of the Angels rejoice when a sinner comes to God!

Rejoice with me! The Lost has been found!

And Heaven and Earth will sing!

And I won’t let Rodney out of my sight again!