All Things Wise and Wonderful

Belle was a good girl. She was a spaniel mix, a long-haired mutt with a sweet, easygoing disposition, and she had just “always” been a part of our family. I think Belle was acquired sometime in the early sixties from a litter of puppies that my grandparent’s dog “Zha Zha” had delivered. Belle was one of those dogs that was simply satisfied just to be close to you and loved to loll about and have her ears scratched. Belle was a loved, trusted companion of the three of us boys, and often accompanied us on family outings to watch Johnny Powers, Bo Berry, GL Smith and the rest of the Bennettsville Model Airplane Club fly (and crash, much to our delight!) their model airplanes at the old Rowe Airport on the Gibson highway, “ramble” in the woods or to swing on the “Tarzan” vines down at Colonel Kolb’s landing on the Pee Dee. We would load up in the Pontiac station wagon Mama drove, one of those with the seat in the very back that flipped up and faced rearward, and set out on a Johnson family adventure. Of course, no adventure was undertaken without the accompaniment of Belle and we three boys would fuss over which of us got to sit in the “jump seat” with Belle. No matter what the adventure would entail, it always included a stop at Miller’s Milk Bar out beside the Landmark Restaurant (known then as Revel’s BBQ) on highway 15 between Bennettsville and McColl for a “cone of cream” as Daddy called it. Belle always got herself a treat as well, a banana split which she would eagerly devour, much to the delight of the five of us. She was a patient, faithful companion and Mama often described how Belle, upon the arrival home from the hospital of each of our births, would take her position close to the crib to protect us from any possible danger. Belle had some strong maternal instincts and was more than just a pet; she was a member of our family. It was a sunny Sunday morning in the Spring of 1973 and we were getting ready to go to Sunday School. I got dressed early and went into the back yard to find Belle. I called her and whistled for her, yet received no response. I checked her usual haunts: the front porch was barren of canine occupation as was Daddy’s shop. The side yard was checked, and Belle was absent. I went around the house to check the crawl space doors, thinking she may have gotten under the house through a door left open from one of our many excursions searching for old bottles. I rounded the back corner of the house and saw a familiar flash of tan and white fur lying under one of the Camellia bushes that was by the fence that separated our back yard from Mister Meachum’s yard. “Aha! There she is” I exclaimed as I strode over to love on her and to receive my daily dose of puppy loving. “Good ole Belle Dog, getting her some rest in a cool spot” I thought as I knelt down to scratch her ears, expecting the old girl to do her usual trick of rolling on her back and expose her belly to allow full access for a belly rub. Belle didn’t roll over, she just lay still and softly thumped her tail on the ground, making a swishing sound in the leaves. I tried coaxing her into arising and chasing a stick; she instead laid perfectly still, casting her glance at me and slowly beating her tail against the ground. I went into the house and told Mama that Belle was in the bushes and was acting weird. She went and got Daddy who went out to check on her as the four of us trailed behind. Daddy bent over and talked to her softly as only Daddy could, and Belle feebly turned her head and licked his hand twice. She looked at the five of us with a look mixed with agony and admiration. Daddy patted her side and rose, then gathered us in a circle. “I’m afraid Belle is on her last leg” he began, “She is weak, struggling for breath and her gums are pale. Dogs know when it is time to go and will find a place to lie for their last moments.” We were stunned at the thought of our loyal companion leaving us, and the tears erupted. Daddy removed his shirt and covered Belle with it to try and offer her some comfort. We each spent a few moments with her, telling her that we loved her dearly and how much of a good girl she was while Daddy went to change his shirt. It was the quietest three block walk to First United Methodist Church that morning, and all through Sunday School and Church I prayed in the best way my 8 year old self could, that when we returned home Belle would be up and running, wiggling and barking gleefully at the return of her family. I told Mrs. Katie Tucker, my Sunday School teacher about my concern and she opened her Bible and read from Isaiah, Chapter 11: "The wolf will live with the lamb, the leopard will lie down with the goat, the calf and the lion and the yearling together; and a little child will lead them. The cow will feed with the bear, their young will lie down together, and the lion will eat straw like the ox. The infant will play near the cobra's den, and the young child will put its hand into the viper's nest. They will neither harm nor destroy on all my holy mountain, for the earth will be filled with the knowledge of the Lord as the waters cover the sea." Mrs. Tucker then told me how all creatures were created by God for a purpose, some for work and some for pleasure, and that God rewards those that are kind to his creation. She reminded me that the innocence of an animal is parallel to the innocence of a child, and that a child shall lead them to inherit the kingdom of God. She said that Belle was very happy with us, but God was calling her home so that He could reward her for being such a good dog and enjoy her company too. She added that we would one day be reunited and rewarded for our kindness, generosity and love. When we returned home, we found Belle motionless and peaceful, the love and life had left her body. Daddy dug her grave in the last spot she had chosen, and returned her body to the ground that she had come from. We fashioned a marker from a scrap of oak found in the shop, and burned “Belle, 1973” into it with the woodburning pen Daddy had. We held an impromptu service in the back yard and Mama quoted Luke, Chapter Twelve: “Are Five Sparrows Not Sold for a Penny? Yet not one of them is forgotten by God”. She echoed Mrs. Tucker’s words, that our kindness and love would go rewarded when we inherited the Kingdom of God, and that we would be led by a child. We gathered into a circle and joined hands, and sang: “All Things Bright and Beautiful, All Creatures Great and Small. All Things Wise and Wonderful; The Lord God Made Them All”. Many years have passed, and we have said goodbye to many “critters” since then, including Mama, Daddy and Matt. I often think back to the Sunday we said goodbye to Belle and, 46 years later I still get teary thinking about that service in the back yard of 105 S. Cook Street. We will be reunited one day, and once again we will grab hands to form the family circle that is the Johnson Family and sing that refrain from long ago, that all things are indeed bright and beautiful and that the Lord God made them all, and that He made them to bring us great joy. With love comes pain, with life comes death; but pain and death are only temporary conditions of life on Earth and we have endless joy and life everlasting waiting for us when we inherit the Kingdom of God. Have a rice day, y’all!