Tribute to Libby  Between November and late December, our "lost and found" Cavalier (Libby) suddenly deteriorated in health, awareness, and mobility.  We already knew she had a congenital heart defect since birth, and just before her 11th birthday, we had her put down (with tears, naturally), and buried her at Budgewoi.  She got old very, very quickly, and stopped eating and drinking.  But, we are mollified by the fact that she had an extra 15 months of good-quality of life with us - we loved her dearly, and she showed her contentedness (once she settled back at home) in many ways.

Tribute to Onny  Onny was tragically killed in August 2007 - needlessly run over in our/his own driveway by a careless driver.  He is achingly missed.  As the pain subsides, we are writing a eulogy for him too.  At nearly 10 years old, he still skipped like a puppy when he went out with me on my morning prayer walk.  He was my daily reminder that it was time to pray!  Read below for the absolutely amazing way things worked out 10 weeks after Onny's death!!

Tribute to Pepe  Brian originally wrote the 1993 article as a personal bit of catharsis. Later, it was published in New Day, a National Renewal Magazine. Although this is ancient history now, the pain and lessons learned at this time never really disappeared. He and Elizabeth have since had four more King Charles Cavalier spaniels - Billy, Lady, Libby, and Onny. They have all been very different from Pepe, but slobber love over everyone who graces our doorstep just the same! 

A Dog's undivided Devotion  by Allan Packer, from Inspirational Australian Stories 

Tribute to Onny 1997-2007

In January 2003, our loved Grande Dame King Charles Cavalier spaniel, Lady, died of old age on a 45c day, at the age of 14.  Six weeks later, our other Cavalier, Libby, ran away petrified by a sudden thunderstorm, and we never saw her again.  Two months later, Onny (short for Onyx) crashed into our lives!  He was 4½, had had no training, and had a mind of his own…..  His father was Grand Australian champion Cavalier, but he was so “unique” that an, ahem, operation had been performed on him….  He was given to us as uncontrollable, by an 80 y/o lady who had given up on him….

Brian immediately took him into a rigorous obedience training program!  Including computer literacy…..  Onny checking his pe-email  >>>….

<<<  He loved coming up to Budgewoi with us, swimming, and conning our neighbour for titbits…

Onny was part of Jordan’s development program with Grumpa every Monday, and shared his turf with Jordan!….  >>>

<<<  Our favourite photo of two greatly loved parts of our lives…

This was a very brief email to some of our friends and fellow animal-lovers….  Our King Charles Cavalier Spaniel, Onny, is dead.  He was run over and killed by one of our boarders beside our front steps, in our / his own driveway.  Came in too fast and smashed him.  He was very upset about killing him, but that doesn't reverse the damage.  We buried him that night.  Put a sign over his grave - "everybody's  friend" - coz he was.  He never growled at or bit anyone in the 41/2 years he lived with us (in his home!).  He was part of our welcoming committee for all, young and  old...  Enough said.  Elizabeth ain’t too good at present.  Neither am I...  Getting hit on the road is one thing, but....  occasions like this tend to make you think about a lot of things….

<<<---  Garden spring cleanup 2007 – last photo

We buried him the same night  --->>>

But, the story didn’t end there…..  

Amazing things happen when you least expect them....

Welcome Home to a Dog that was "Lost and now is Found!"10 weeks later, after the initial pain had subsided, while Brian was back in Zimbabwe, thunderstorms hit Sydney, and on her birthday Elizabeth received a call from an animal shelter 18km away.  They said, “your dog has been found and is here with us”.

She said, “my dog is buried in the back yard”, but they insisted her Cavalier was with them.

Yes, that’s what the microchip said, and Libby amazingly reappeared 4 YEARS and 8 MONTHS after she disappeared!  A miracle of recovery and TIMING…

The largest Sunday paper in Aussie (Sunday Telegraph) ran an article after the vet called them about it.  >>>

<<<  So, 10 weeks after Onny was killed, a prodigal Cavalier came home….  Tinotenda, Jesu!

An epilogue…..  We make no apology for the sentimental nature of this eulogy to “just a dog”…..

Many of our friends, and we ourselves, have had our hearts “tenderised” by pets - a blessing from God to help us on the way towards a more empathetic view of others and their situations in life….

These things happen, and God uses them.  And sometimes, beyond our understanding, our Heavenly Father steps in and surprises us with His “interference” in such a “trivial” matter as the welfare and effect of a family pet…..

May you too be surprised by His Love and Grace….

Update three months after Libby came home...  She has gone from being a tuned-out, overweight, falling over, lack-of-bladder-control dog at death's door, to....  springing around the place, walking daily with Brian on his prayer walk in the bush nearby, dropped 3 kgs, hearing better, and just loves being fondled.  The change is quite staggering!  What a difference love and affection can make - to an animal - let alone a prodigal person!

And another year later...  Libby suffered all her life from a congenital heart defect (quite common in the breed).  Just short of her 11th birthday, her system started shutting down.  We tearfully put her down at Budgewoi and buried her in our holiday cottage back yard.  She had stopped eating and walking; but she was still as sweet-natured as ever, and gained an additional 15 months of love, affection, and "home" than she would have otherwise had.

ONE MAN'S TRIBUTE TO A FRIEND - Tribute to Pepe (1993)

It's December 1993, and it's been nine months since I lost him. Nine months - and hardly a day has gone by without a quiet weep when nobody's around. People might think I'm being just sentimental, or melancholy - and there's truth in that. But the pain in my heart is real, even as I try to put these words down. I've put this off many times over the months. But I want to express how I feel before months turn to years.

All this over a silly dog!

But that's only the half of it. Pepe was more than a dog - he was a gracious gift from God at a time when I needed such a gift the most. And now he's gone.

One Sunday afternoon in August 89, a group of leaders from our Church went to inspect a property we were interested in buying for use as a Church office. It was a time of new things. We were a bit abuzz as we all returned to our house for coffee afterwards. And there he was - a beautiful nine-month old King Charles Cavalier Tri-colour Spaniel puppy. Sitting on the front porch like he already owned the place. He had no tag. We checked the papers for two weeks, but no one advertised for him. Elizabeth took him for shots, registered him, and called him, "Pepe" - after a dearly loved daughter of friends, who had nicknamed her "Pepe" as a little girl.

That very same month, the Holy Spirit began speaking to me about deepening my personal devotional walk with God - I just knew that if I didn't, later I would be unable to cope with what was going to come down the highway of life and ministry. How true that was to be! My morning devotional prayer moved from the typical minister's, "God help me, God show me, God give me answers, etc, etc", to a purely worshipful speaking in tongues and praising Him for who He is, rather than relating to Him for what He could do for me. This took place in long walks along the water supply canal access path, near my home - complete with a helter skelter puppy! From the day he arrived, he had to be tied up. We couldn't let him loose for a moment without him running off.

But I persevered. First, a long rope as I walked, and he running around me full tilt, almost breaking his neck every time he ran to the end of his rope! Many a farewell of friends ended with us all being literally bound together, as he ran excitedly around us! But slowly he got the message - run but stay within your limitations.... At first he was totally deaf to shouted and whistled instructions. Totally!

After some months, the Holy Spirit said to me one morning, "You're just like your dog. You run around; you don't listen, and I have to keep you on a long lead!" I really began to try to hear the voice of the Lord more clearly - to live more obediently day by day. At the same time, I began letting Pepe off the rope once we were inside the canal property. It's completely fenced off. And did he run! Like the wind! He just took off. No response to whistles, shouts, threats. But slowly, he began to change; he was growing up. We loved him, and he knew it. I noticed him starting to watch me, listening for the particular high-pitched whistle I used only to call him. Years later he could pick me out of a group of hundreds of people by that whistle.

Once he'd learned to watch me and obey my signals, I began to walk him close beside me along the road side - without a lead. At the same time I began to take him jogging with me off-road. He loved to come running. My running friends would comment on how crazy he went at the sight of them, because Jeff, Colin, or Kevin arriving meant, "we're outa here into the bush!" He would jump in circles, barking hysterically - but only when these guys were around.

In late 1989, Elizabeth and I went to Canada for three months on long service sabbatical leave. There I learned much about myself in long periods of prayer and separation from our regular activities. I repented of being a manipulative controller of people, and asked God to teach me how to love people unconditionally, rather than only while they were useful to whatever cause I was about at the time.

For the next three years after our return, Pepe was a part of our lives. His love was unconditional! Kids loved him wherever he went with me. He allayed the fears many a toddler had about dogs, and never once snapped at a person - ever. He went to church often - tied up outside, and peering through the glass at the action inside. He was the best 'greeter' of kids our church ever had! He even did a star turn in a church concert - and behaved like a seasoned trooper under the lights!

One day on the canal, a pit-bull terrier attacked us. I'm not afraid of dogs, stood my ground, and ran straight at it making menacing gestures. It got a shock, turned and ran down the hill. At this retreat, Pepe came flying out from behind me, barking "ferociously" and chased this brute of a dog! It couldn't believe its eyes when it turned to find this little Spaniel yapping at its heels! It spun around and attacked. The only thing that saved Pepe was his superior speed as he did a flying 180 degree turn and flew up the hill to safety, once more behind me, still barking furiously…. The Holy Spirit said to me, "when the devil flees from you, don't EVER think it's YOU he's scared of! You're only safe when you are hidden IN CHRIST!"

He went with us on holidays - sitting on our van's middle raised seat, like a Mack Truck mascot, or head and shoulders out the window, long ears streaming in the breeze (once he fell right out!). He loved to travel. The slightest sound of a vehicle door opening...... and there he was! Ready to go! The sight of him chasing a big 'roo in the Flinders is still fresh in my mind (he wouldn't have had a clue what to do if he'd ever caught it). So is his barking furiously at an inquisitive camel in the outback (from the safety of the van of course). The same trip saw me make the mistake of taking him for a walk around Elizabeth's family's farm, near Geelong. The sight of all those sheep was just too much for a well trained city dog, and he abandoned all semblance of training, to run madly around and around them, joyously barking and leaping in the air like Snoopy........

Now he's gone.

During the time we had him, I taught him to watch me for the slightest command when we were out. I could literally cross a busy road with him, getting him to stop dead on the middle white lines beside me, in the middle of roaring traffic - all by word and voice tone, without a leash. Running with my mates and me was the great love of his life. We did up to 30 km at a time together. "Such a little dog," people would say. One night, after a hard 20 km run, I was riding my bike home from Colin's (about 3 km).  That particular night he was utterly had it! Halfway home, he stopped running beside my bike, laid down on the grassy roadside, and looked at me with those bulging eyes as if to say, "I just can't go any further." So I picked him up, nestled him on my arm and hip, and rode home one handed! He never moved! He was so grateful..... The photo was taken just after we arrived home that cold winter’s night.

December 92 was the beginning of my own "annus horribilus". A strange "accident" saw me end up in hospital with 60 stitches holding my left knee, ligaments, and cartilage together, after a brush with death - falling some 2 1/2 metres off a fence impaling myself on a spiked piece of reinforcing steel, that narrowly missed my heart. Pepe sat worried beside me, licking me, before I was taken to hospital. Our church entered into a period of divisive accusations, during which I nearly quit the ministry. Many times I walked the canal, weeping before God - confused by the hate, and malicious words spoken against me. But the dog didn't care one bit! He had a better perspective on life than I did! If it's OK between you and the One who loves you - what can anyone do to you in the long haul. It seemed like he knew the reality of Romans 8:35, 38-39 better than I did, "What shall separate us from the love of Christ? Shall trouble or hardship or persecution or famine or nakedness or danger or sword? For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord."

Then, in one week in March 93, with pressure mounting on me to resign from the ministry, I joined my friend, Colin, for our regular 20 km Monday night run in the bush at Prospect Dam. Pepe and I had done this most weeks for about three years. He knew where every rabbit hole was! But that night, he wasn't himself. He hung back when we started. Later he took off chasing rabbits - the usual - but this time he didn't come back. I whistled (up there you can hear a long way); I was angry (we had overseas guests [John and Yvonne Walton] at home and I was watching the clock). Once before, he'd disappeared. That time the dam overseer found him sitting at his office door at 7 am next morning! Pressed for time, I decided to leave off looking and return in the morning. 

How I came to regret that decision.

We never saw him again.  Death was in the air.

I walked the Dam property early every morning for days, my heart breaking. My wife was as distressed as I. Wild dogs had been seen not too far away. Big savage ones. We now think they came across him and killed him. Either that or a snake bit him. At the same time, one of our church leader's wives miscarried. Two days after he disappeared, Jeff and I dragged a drowned man out of the canal, and tried unsuccessfully to revive him, as he vomited all over me. I literally stared death in the face that awful week.

The book of Job came alive. Don't tell me there's no devil. Don't tell me he can't get at your health and reputation. Don't tell me he can't snatch very precious things out of your bosom. Don't tell me it's all "chance".

But God is faithful to those who persevere in faith. And praise God for a loving, faithful spouse, too. I have finally picked up this tribute, to finish it, in September 94. My heart is sort-of healed - but the scars are still there. Significant changes came out of that awful year. We survived - but I have a weakness in me now that I'm not ashamed of. I weep more easily for those who are suffering loss, pain, grief, and adverse circumstances. Heaven will be full of people broken in spirit; who have said, "Whatever it takes, Lord, I give you the right to do it"..... Isa 57:15 says, "For this is what the high and lofty One says -- He who lives forever, whose name is holy: "I live in a high and holy place, but also with him who is contrite and lowly in spirit, to revive the spirit of the lowly and to revive the heart of the contrite."

What arrogance marked my first 20 years of ministry...

Someone later recommended Adrian Plass's story of Nunc, the "Alien at St Wilfreds" - who appeared from nowhere, sent by God to teach some tired old Christians the meaning of unconditional love, and then, mission completed, mysteriously disappeared again, never to return.

Somewhere, in God's great fatherly heart - while He was busy running the Universe - He took enough personal time to give us a very special dog for three and a half years - then, mission accomplished, He took him away again (Job 1:21). I think I’m beginning to understand  (written September 94).  Re-reading this in 2009, I wouldn't change any of the sentiments expressed here.  They were blessed times, mixed with pain, and were the foundation for a different way of living;  it's where the saying at the top of our website emerged from...  "God instructs the heart, not by ideas, but through PAIN and CONTRADICTIONS"

A Relentless Passion - by Allan Packer

from Inspirational Australian Stories , Strand Publishing 2004

I'm assured of a warm welcome whenever I get home. It isn't the kids. When they were young, they were first to the door, arms outstretched and faces eager: 'Daddy's home!' Now they're teenagers, I'm flattered when they even notice my arrival. It isn't my wife. Sure, she's glad to see me and always greets me with a smile and a kiss. But she can't compete; she's told me so directly.

No, the household greeter is my dog, and his most enthusiastic greetings are reserved for me. I can spot him inside the front porch as I approach our driveway, sitting alert behind the glass, ears cocked, patiently watching the street. When I appear at the door, he begins a little war dance, spinning around, leaping into the air. In the words of my wife, the dog is passionately devoted to me. She finds it bemusing. The kids just find it annoying.

He accepts their attention gratefully when I'm not around. When I'm there, they call him and he comes to me. It's as though he suspects they're plotting to tear him away from his master. Even food takes second place. He won't eat until he knows for sure I'm not going anywhere. If he's eating and I head for the front door, he's with me in a flash, food forgotten. He'll come with me whenever I let him. He loves 'walkies' -even the mention of the word sends him into a frenzy.

Apart from that, he seems to find his greatest delight simply being in my presence. When I go upstairs to our bedroom, day or night, he quietly settles into his basket at the foot of the stairs. He just wants to be with me, or at least near me. I don't understand his devotion. Maybe he's simply decided I'm the alpha-male. Maybe it's because I was the one who rescued him. I found him at the RSPCA. They don't keep dogs indefinitely, and he'd been there a while. He was scrawny and a bit cowed, but he looked friendly. He was the right size and the right age: a border collie-kelpie cross, neither a big brute nor a little yapping terror, not a puppy and not too old. I took the family to meet him and they agreed, so we brought him home.

We soon fell in love with his affectionate nature and endearing ways. He's so obedient that it's hard to be too cross even when we catch him reclining in splendour on the family room sofa. We'd had him for almost two years before it came to my mind that I had a master, too. It was a time of refreshing and renewing in my relationship with God, and I sensed Him gently prodding me, pointing me to the obvious. Once the dog arrived, I became the daily object of a devotion that was relentless, passionate, unselfconscious and undemanding.

And yet my dog was not the only one who had been rescued through Jesus, I too had been adopted, undeserving, into a family beyond my reach. What of my own devotion to Jesus, my passion for his presence? The question haunted me for days. I'm more at peace about it now, although I'm not satisfied with my answer. But, I'll learn - God has provided me with a live-in role mode! And the dog loves me so lavishly I can't even hate him for showing me up! The apostle Paul was no stranger to passionate devotion. He wrote: 'all the things I once thought were so important are gone from my life. Compared to the high privilege of knowing Christ Jesus as my Master, firsthand, everything I once thought I had going for me is insignificant - dog dung.' [Philippians 3: 7-8, The Message].

He and my dog would have understood each other well. I hope that one day I'll understand them better too.