Joe ...

Just after first light each morning, the debile old man would slip on a woolen pea jacket, cover his snow-white head with his threadbare Filson Duckbill cap, then he and a dog named Joe would exit their cozy abode and set forth on their daily jaunt ... they would unhurriedly amble alongside the roughhewn, split rail fence which bordered the meadow, around the slimy farm pond, then wind their way back toward the little bungalow through a dense stand of spruce pine and spurge laurel ... at times a bracing mountain breeze would intermingle with wafting scents of evergreens and wildflowers to yield an invigorating redolence ... Joe never wandered far from the old man's heels, at times he trailed along so closely that his curious, wet nose would brush against the backs of his master's trouser legs while he proudly wagged his tail ... the aged gentleman had lost his beloved wife of nearly forty years to a stroke about two decades ago, and he reckoned that Joe was the best friend he had ever known ... his sole companion for the past nine years ... the shivering and frightened dog had turned up on the porch one cold, rainy evening ... two days passed before the piteous, half-starved pup dared approach the kind looking stranger who had been offering him homemade biscuits soaked in warm bacon grease ... the hungry pooch could no longer resist gulping down the irresistible grub, and the pair had been inseparable ever since

This particular morning as they embarked on their usual stroll, they were greeted by a dark, overcast sky, and a glistening layer of ice had covered everything in sight during the previous night ... as they approached the pond, the old man carefully placed each of his steps as he walked on the slippery embankment ... suddenly, the soles of his worn boots lost traction causing the old man to slam painfully onto the hard, frozen ground as he helplessly grasped for the sparse undergrowth before sliding into the frigid water ... in a matter of seconds the lethal cold stripped all life from his body and he was gone ... a now panic-stricken Joe began to woefully howl as he realized that his master had fallen into the pond ... without hesitation, the loyal dog desperately leaped into the water, and swam around frantically searching for his friend until all strength had drained from his exhausted body, then he too succumbed to the cold as he disappeared beneath the surface of the deadly pool ...

Instantly the old fellow found himself on an unfamiliar and seemingly endless path with massive walls on each side, ol' Joe still at his heels sniffing the ground as they walked along ... finally the duo came upon a very wide gate with an extremely determined looking gatekeeper standing its guard ..."Enter weary traveler!" the doorman cried, we've been expecting you" ... the old man stretched out his neck and peered in through the enormous gate ... therein the sun shone like a jasper stone upon a beautiful city made of pure gold, lying foursquare, having twelve foundations garnished with all manner of precious stones ... twelve gates all told, made of pearls upon its walls ... and streets made of solid gold transparent as glass ... the old man had heard stories of a place such as this, but was never sure if they were true ... so he hurried through the gate expecting Joe to follow, only to look back and see his best friend being forcefully restrained by the stern gatekeeper just outside the gate ... "dogs are not allowed within this gate!" declared the furious doorman ... "but is this not Heaven?" asked the old man ... "of course it is, but dogs are never permitted within!" exclaimed the irate gatekeeper ... the old man quickly came back outside the gate and snatched a snarling Joe from the grasp of the heartless sentry, then proceeded on up that long way ... "don't you want to enter in?" ... if you go away now, you shall never again be allowed entrance through this gate!" screamed the now disappointed doorman ... "anyplace where Joe ain't welcome, ain't Heaven!" replied the angry old man ...

The exhausted twosome continued trudging along that forever lane until the old man grew so tired he thought he might go no further ... just then, they came upon another gate much narrower than the first, with a much kinder looking keeper standing its guard ... "welcome weary travelers, enter ye in to the joys of our Lord, we've been expecting you!" the doorman softly said ... "but is this really Heaven? ... and is Joe permitted within?" enquired the old man ... "why yes, this most assuredly is Heaven, and Joe is indeed welcome within! ... why do you ask?" replied the gracious sentry ... "because he at the first gate also permitted me to enter within, but not Joe ... and he too proclaimed that to be Heaven ... how can I now trust one such as you?" cried the man ... "oh no, that was not Heaven ... 'twas that beguiling Deceiver enticing thee to enter within the gates of hell! ... for wide is that gate, and broad is that way which leadeth to destruction, any many there be which go in thereat" exclaimed the gatekeeper ... "enter ye in at this straight and narrow gate ... you and Joe!" he uttered ... the old man slowly stepped forward through the gate with Joe ... his curious, wet nose brushing against the backs of his master's trouser legs, as they unhurriedly ambled alongside the roughhewn split rail rail fence bordering a meadow, around a slimy farm pond, then through a dense stand of spruce pine and spurge laurel ... a bracing mountain breeze intermingled with wafting scents of evergreens and wildflowers yielding its invigorating redolence ... "I reckon this must really be Heaven ol' friend!" the old man declared ... as Joe proudly wagged his tail.

Because straight is the gate, and narrow is the way, which leadeth unto life, and few there be that find it ... Matthew 7:14


--sja