New Year’s Day began with a phone reminder at 9:00 a.m.: “Heartworm meds” for the dog.

But instead of giving her meds this morning, I got up and prepared her body for the sanitation workers. She passed away on New Year’s Eve.

As we stepped into 2009, Guess did not come with us. If I told you she was 15 years old, I wouldn’t be off by more than a year or two. Her gray-masked face was well earned.

We were never really on the same page, she and I, but we got closer through the years. She was the product of an English bull dog and Something Else — a pit bull look-alike. I was firstborn of Mary and Jim Branch. Guess and I grew older together.

Blame Mom for the fact Guess lived with us. Sherry and I had four kids (three of whom are adopted). I didn’t think I needed another mouth to feed, body to bathe, and mind to train. But Mom understood that a dog can do things for a troubled child that parents might not. She had my oldest child in mind, but I think the bigger impact was on my second, Paul. Or maybe on me.

Guess led Paul to spend nearly a year assisting at a vet’s office. Today he and his family have a dog and cats. When Terence was in the military, he and his wife raised a boxer puppy. When they came to visit, the boxer and Guess got along fine.

That’s more than I can say for Guess and me.

Begrudgingly accepting Mom’s advice, the whole family carefully researched the “best dog” for our situation. It was the first time we used the Internet for anything productive. We were ready to commit to a breed as soon as we got back from vacation one year. Except we were met with a phone message from a friend with a new litter of puppies.

All research went out the window, and Guess came home with us. “To live outside,” I said.

Guess did what puppies do. She assaulted you with her paws and tongue. She chewed up the landscape and fence. She barked outside our window at distant trains. I remember thinking how much I loved her every time I had to get out of bed and quiet her down. I was so impressed.

We tried obedience school, a group-class affair where people brought their dogs to a parking lot for training. The whole family went. She got better, but suffered from inconsistency on the part of her trainers. One Easter I wrote about her in the family newsletter, comparing our love for her to Christ’s love for His disobedient children. We were (still are) more like Guess than we wanted to believe.

Good news! Guess did relate to the kids. She would play with them even when I wouldn’t. In spite of their making her afraid of water, and missing her feeding schedule, and leaving her without anything to drink, she forgave them. She delighted in their companionship. She wanted to be with them more than anything. Maybe I did have something to learn from her.

The turning point in our relationship came one winter when we noticed her limping. We figure she slipped on some ice, which is how she broke her leg. I actually initiated a trip to the vet, payment of a bill, acquisition of a large kennel, and rearrangement of the workshop so she could be protected from the elements during her healing. I petted her each time I took her in and out.

As the kids moved away, Guess’ care officially transitioned into my hands. She spent nights in her kennel, and lots of days, too, when the weather was cold. She got petted. From the looks of things, she died quietly in her sleep.

Like everything in life, she came to us for a purpose. She came for our improvement, not for our comfort. But as we improved more, she became a comfort as well (Romans 5:3-5). Many of God’s provisions are like that.

On December 31, 2008, Guess’ exuberant tail wagged its last. She couldn’t speak a promise of faithfulness, but she lived one. It’s a lesson worth learning.

To think I might appreciate — even miss — Guess? I think I get it now, Mom. I think I get it.