Over the last three years, I have had more than a handful of good people suggest I get a rescue dog because of my affinity for canines. But as I’ve said, also more than a handful of times, I can’t do it. Not because I don’t want to bring an abused or mistreated or ignored pooch into my home. It’s simply that I cannot bear the pain of losing another dog — the pain I felt and still feel after losing Igor.

I see the commercials asking folks to consider rescuing a dog. I see the awful state some of these creatures of God are in — at the hands of so-called human beings. And each time I see such an ad, or see something on the Internet, my heart breaks for these animals.

My heart also breaks seeing commercials of hungry children, homeless people, those with addictions, folks who are ill and feel hopeless. And yes, my heart breaks for them as well. I wouldn’t be a human being if it didn’t. And I do what I can when I can financially, but truth be told, there I times when I could use a little help in the bank account, but that’s a column for another day.

But over the last several months I have been experiencing feelings of just what some of those rescue dogs are going through.

Without getting into needless details, the past few months have been a seemingly endless series of woes, disappointments, anxiety, pain and hopelessness. Knowing that we all experience times like these at some points in our lives, I truly feel like I am being bombarded. I’ve developed a snarky mantra lately — “If God doesn’t give us more than we can handle, He must think I’m Hercules.” I’m not proud of saying that, but it illustrates, to a small degree, the frustrations and disappointments often resulting in anger and resentment toward the one being that deserves it least. Or I should say doesn’t deserve it at all — the Almighty Father. Yet, one of my poorest traits has been my lack of faith and trust — not just recently, but all my life. I had a good friend of mine, a priest, who once told me, “God doesn’t count the times you fall down, He counts the times you get back up.” If that’s the case, I am but a toddler still learning how to walk.

My lack of faith and trust comes through in my prayers, which are often lackluster at best.

The reason I feel more and more like a rescue dog is because I have been feeling more and more like I have been abandoned — by God and others.

This isn’t a column to confess my faults and failures, nor is it to gain the sympathies of those who have tolerated this column to this point.

No, what this column is, is a commercial, showing my weaknesses and my plea for God not to change the channel every time my commercial comes on.

I want to be welcomed in by a  Father with whom I’ve had a long relationship — sometimes rocky, sometimes warm. A relationship that I sever at times, and He pulls me back.

I just want God to see my commercial, and rescue me — providing me with warmth, love and hope during these difficult times. So God, please know I don’t have to be house trained, I don’t eat all that much, and I don’t bite. I just need a chance.

I feel as though I’m going out on a limb with this piece, but I have never backed off from sharing my life with my reader friends over the last 20-plus years of this column. I’ve often found it cathartic to share. 

So when y’all are in prayer, just mention there’s a pup out there who could use some rescuing — in more ways than one. I want that tail wag back again.