When Beau Found Me: A Tale of Kibble, Heart, and a Hound’s Wisdom

When Beau Found Me: A Tale of Kibble, Heart, and a Hound’s Wisdom

The good Lord has a knack for knowing what we need long before we figure it out ourselves. When I gave my heart to Christ, I handed over my mind too, diving headfirst into seminary. Little did I know, a four-legged philosopher named Beau was about to teach me a similar lesson. To paraphrase John Pilley, author of Chaser, “If you have your dog’s heart, you’ll have his mind.” Beau, with his soulful eyes and hound-dog charm, proved that in spades.

Looking back, I see it clearly now, from the moment Beau waltzed into my life until he left pawprints on my heart last fall. But back then? I was clueless about what made this droopy-eared goofball tick. Beau was the ultimate dog’s dog, greeting every canine visitor to our house with a wagging tail and an invitation to play. Yet, for all his social swagger, I struggled to connect with him the way I had with other dogs. Let me take you back to where it all began.

Picture this: a scruffy hound chowing down on a bowl of kibble on my back porch like it was his personal buffet. My first thought? This guy doesn’t exactly scream ‘rocket scientist.’ I sized him up, floppy ears, soulful eyes, and a vibe that screamed, “I’ve seen some things.” I figured he was a stray with a PhD in porch-loafing.

I called a buddy who hunts, thinking I’d found him the perfect sidekick. “Hey, Harold, I’ve got a hunting dog for you!” I said, brimming with confidence. He swung by the next day, and I proudly showed off Beau’s one trick. “Check it out, he knows how to sit!” My friend doubled over laughing. “Aww, shoot, that ain’t no huntin’ dawg! He just knows how to sit!” Strike one for my dog-scouting career.

In my defense, Beau didn’t exactly scream “adopt me.” If I’d seen him in a shelter, surrounded by fluffy puppies and perky-eared mutts, I’d have walked right past. He was a hound, a hunting dog, and—let’s be real—he looked like he’d already lived a few lifetimes. My first impression? This dude’s older than my grandma’s couch. Oh, how wrong I was. Underestimating Beau’s smarts was my biggest fumble, and I cringe now for pigeonholing him as “just a hound.”

Here’s where it gets humbling. I tried to give Beau away, just like his two previous owners had. I tracked down the last one using the number on his collar. Her response? “You can have him.” Later that day, she texted me a gut-punch of a photo: Beau, cable-tied to a doghouse, looking like he’d lost all hope. She added, “We got him from the shelter.” My heart cracked, but Beau’s? He was already in pieces. We both had a lot to learn about trust, love, and second chances.

Beau wasn’t just a dog; he was a teacher with a wagging tail. Over time, he showed me that intelligence isn’t about tricks or hunting skills, it’s about loyalty, resilience, and knowing who’s worth sticking around for. He chose me, kibble thief and all, and I’m forever grateful he did. When Beau passed last fall, he left behind a legacy of love and a reminder: sometimes, the ones we overlook have the most to teach us.

Here’s to you, Beau, my heart-stealer and the smartest hound I never deserved.

RIP (Beau became a heavenly angel on August 26, 2025) 

Why blog?

I wrote my first blog post ever on January 16, 2018, and never published it until now.

Journaling, Dogs, and Why I’m Blogging About Both

For as long as I can remember, two things have been constants in my life: journaling and dogs. I’ve filled countless notebooks with my thoughts, feelings, heartaches, sermon notes, and, yes, plenty of dog-related musings. Journaling is my mental spring cleaning, a way to dump my brain’s clutter and make room for more of life’s chaos. From my first gig as a kennel assistant at Pet Health Center (where I learned that dog poop and minimum wage are a humbling combo) to the gut-wrenching loss of a furry friend, my journals have been a safe space for it all.

When I became a Christian at 19, my journaling took on a new dimension. Suddenly, I was scribbling prayer requests, answered prayers (with dates, because I’m organized like that), and lessons learned during military deployments. Later, as I worked in healthcare ministry, my journals became a lifeline for processing compassion fatigue, because caring for others can leave you emotionally running on fumes. Through stacks of spiral-bound notebooks, I’ve documented my spiritual journey, my triumphs, and my “why is life so hard?” moments.

So, why start a blog? Great question, imaginary reader! If the Apostle Paul's scribe could have used his era’s version of a laptop, parchment, and a quill to share his wisdom, then I figure I can use a keyboard to do the same. Blogging is my modern-day parchment, a way to share what matters to me with anyone curious enough to read it. Sure, putting my personal thoughts, devotions, and dog-obsessed memoirs out there feels like standing in front of a crowd in my pajamas, a bit vulnerable, risky, and a terrifying. But the rewards? Oh, they’re worth it.

Why not share my experiences if it means cathartic healing for me and maybe, just maybe, inspiring someone else? If one person feels uplifted, starts journaling, or looks at their dog and thinks, “You’re not just a couch destroyer, you’re a soulmate,” then I’ve already won. Plus, let’s be real, writing about my love for dogs and the Lord is way more fun than keeping it locked in a notebook under my bed.

So, grab a coffee (or a dog treat for your dog), and let’s start this blogging adventure together. Who’s with me?