A loud bark late one night in 1997 inspired me to ask God to send a watchdog or angel to look after my parents’ van, which I had borrowed. The windshield of my 1963 Ford Falcon leaked, and I wished to spare it the day’s rains.
I edited and paginated for The Madera Tribune newspaper at the time and its downtown offices didn’t always feel secure.
Hours later I locked the security door of the building and approached the van. City lights and clouds hid the stars, the blacktop glistened darkly, and the van growled at me. This puzzled me.
As I reached its door, several soggy doggy faces peered at me from beneath the vehicle. I informed its furry companions that the van was mine so-to-speak, and we parted peacefully. I suspect God has a sense of humor...