Grace Community Christian Church

 

Archived Things Above

Pete & Dewey (7/27/09)

Pete and Dewey drive to the Sheetz on Rosemont Avenue every morning for coffee. The cab of the old blue and white Ford pick-up is outfitted with a wooden box, which serves as Dewey's perch. Dewey is an eight-year old white dog (Keeshond, I think) who is absolutely hysterical.

Pete leaves him in the truck while he goes inside, and if you approach the truck at all while Pete's away, Dewey just goes nuts. I mean, lips pulled back in a violent snarl, teeth bared and chomping, pure rage and hostility seething from every pore of his ten pound body. This dog is clueless that it's barely big enough to be a wheel chock for a go cart; he smack talks anyone who gets close to his master's truck. I've seen more than one startled customer jump away as they passed by, including myself! This is one mean, loud, attitude filled mutt.

But as soon as Pete rolls down the window, Dewey transforms. The lips subside into a friendly smile. The teeth lose their vampire-ness and melt back into his gums. He looks with deep affection into your eyes and asks, "Got any lovins for me, buddy?"

The first time Pete told me that, I was suspicious. I felt like the apostle Peter when Jesus invited him to step out of the boat. "Trust me, you won't sink." "Trust me," Pete insisted, "he won't bite." Yeah, right. I've got eyes, and those teeth are sharp. But being the risk-taker that I am, I stretched out my hand to within flesh-tearing distance of Dewey's formerly frothy fangs. Looking back, it had to be quite a sight: the 200 something pound behemoth of a hunk quivering in the presence of a gentle man's pet who could fit inside a McDonald's bag and still leave room for fries.

Well, Pete was right. Turns out, Dewey's a lover. A nibbler. An affection addict. A hug hound. He's no more dangerous than a box of Qtips.

Now I love it when Pete and Dewey show up at Sheetz. I go up to total strangers, morning commuters who just want to chug some caffeine and be left alone, and I say, "See that monstrous mutt out there carrying on in that truck? Come here, you gotta see this." And I grab Pete and tell him he's gotta do the Dewey drill again. We all traipse over to the blue and white Ford pick-up. I put my hand up the to the glass and Dewey goes berserk. Pete opens the door, rolls down the window, then shuts the door again.

I turn to the latest Dewey "inductee" and say, "Go head, pet him! He won't bite!" Sometimes they just back away and assure me they've taken my word for it. But sometimes they'll tentatively reach for Dewey, and the look of relief on their face as he gently caresses their fingers with his ivories is comical. "Wow, he's so sweet!" is their inevitable reply. "Whudda thunk?!"

I think I'm drawn to Dewey because he reminds me of people. That beneath all of their yappy, belligerent bluster; behind all of their nasty teeth baring and growling ferocity; beyond the gruff protective exterior that they project through the glass to anyone they perceive to be a threat- is a person far less dangerous and much more desirous of intimacy than anyone might imagine. And all it takes if for their Master to roll down their window, and be close.

Whudda thunk?!


Jim Dewar --