Balm for the Bulldog Wounded

Gather round Bulldog faithful. I need to tell you a story. It started a long time ago around 1971. My husband was born in Florida. Raised in a God fearin' but Gator lovin family. Y'all there is even photographic evidence of him wearing a Gator sweatshirt as a young teenager. I tell you this because I want you to know through prayer and careful consideration, this burden was lifted from him. I reckon that's how it happened. All I know is if he hadn't made this conversion, my daddy would've straight written me out of the will when I brought him home. Georgia will do that to you. Makes you forget what you used to know. Makes you new and full of eager ambition. I can testify. But, there's a down side to such fervor. When your Dawgs lose a heartbreaker, it hurts like whacking your shin on a reese hitch. Like shaving over a mosquito bite, like when your horse steps on your toes and you were stupid enough to wear flip flops. Worse. Although my husband shares my deep abiding love of Athens and the University, he only gets into football because there's nothing else allowed on any TV in my house on Saturdays in the fall. He watches and cheers but mostly laughs at me writhing on the floor begging Jesus for a 4th down stop.  Last night he went sound asleep during the last half. The girls hung in there with me but he was slap out. I don't say that proudly. It's one of those things I will never understand about him. But nevertheless, when I'd eaten a rice krispy treat, a leftover chicken wing, a handful of stale popcorn, and a biscuit I think Murphy bit into first, I realized I had to go to bed and get some sleep.  As I turned on the lamp so I could crawl into bed, I see my 130 pound Great Dane in MY spot in the bed. He is out. I mean snoring like a grown man. OUT. Like a Carolina fan on a 3 day drunk. OUT. Now, I have no upper body strength, but I can pull an entire Bama bandwagon with my legs. So I crawled into bed and pushed him as hard as I could with my legs. He's barely moving at all so I push with hands AND feet. Right as I get him close to the edge, he wakes, startles, and flips over on top of me and goes immediately back to sleep. Here I am- legs hanging off the bed, Great Dane laid out completely across my shoulders. I managed to push him off my chest and throw my legs into the bed. He's literally got his big race horse sized head over my shoulder but I'm so exhausted I don't care. I closed my eyes and began my normal routine of praying for soldiers, for old people, for dogs on the street, for children with no parents, and for Tech fans clearly eaten up with envy.  I prayed for friends struggling at work, and mamas barely making ends meet, for dairy farmers, for coaches' wives and that my girls will one day find worthy spouses who hunt and fish and  love Jesus and the Dawgs. I prayed for Sony and Nick and Hot Rod and Kirby. For Jake, Roquan and for Bama's #48, through gritted teeth. I prayed for the freshmen with so much to look forward to and the seniors with so much to remember.  I thanked the Lord for Munson, for Herschel and for my Grandmother who loved football almost as much as she loved cigarettes and a deck of cards. No doubt my prayer life is rife with Attention Deficit Disorder. As I was wrapping up I asked the Lord to soothe the souls of the Bulldog faithful and instantly let me tell y'all what happened. Y'all it was a sign. You know how some claim to have felt the brush of angel's wings when they talked to God? Well I felt hot, Great Dane breath.  Sweet dog breath. I about cried. Thank you Lord for that Dawg breath. I know that was you, God. Thank you. Thank you for every Dawg out on that field last night. Thank you for all the Bulldog faithful. It will be a long stretch of winter and disappointing Braves baseball waiting for fall, but with You, we will get through it.  Stop wasting a single second of this blessed Bulldog life complaining about horrid officiating or big mouth Bama fans. Stop. Just start counting down the days. Because, it is GREAT to be a Georgia Bulldog. I know so because the Lord told me through Dawg breath and a little slobber on my LL Bean pajamas. Good night y'all. Sleep tight. Smile. Say your prayers.  Get some rest. G Day will be here before you know it.  Go Dawgs.