Faith, Hope and Love...: Squidgy in the "CHIM"

I’ll never forget the day Squidgy and Titch became Hayton dogs. Their previous owner, Rob, dropped them off and no sooner had he left dust trails out the gate, than Nala our 2 yr old lab/bouvier started screeching “intruder alert” as she perched possessively on the front step of our home.

Squidgy, a 7 yr old great dane sat at the gate wondering what had just happened to her and where Rob had gone, while her son Titch was happily prancing around the garden discovering new varieties of lizards. It took a few days for Squidgy to leave the hope of the gate and once she had established herself as “Top dog” on the mission; (which she was known to do by literally sitting on top of Nala, and puncturing Bella’s neck with her large canines to the point of infection); Squidgy began to look for her ‘new person’. She and I took to one another with the affection of old high school friends. It wasn’t long before I knew she was my dog and she knew I was her human.

As I opened the front door one day, the absence of one dog made me feel uneasy. It wasn’t highly unusual for a dog to gallivant at night, but it was unlikely for one not to be home in the morning. I stuck my fingers in my mouth and whistled loudly, imploring Squidgy to come home. No sight or sound of her. I went back inside and answered a call. It was our PT Diane, “Shar are you missing a dog?” Yes!! I was missing a dog, I was missing Squidgy. She explained that someone had seen an ‘Azungu’ (foreigner) dog in the ‘ditch’. My heart sank. I knew people were afraid of Squidgy and Titch simply because of their size, but I didn’t imagine anyone would hurt them and ‘stone them’ into a ditch.

Ryan took Maxwell to go find this ditch and see if the dog really was Squidgy. Shortly they returned, nosing about in the garage for ropes and a ladder. A ladder! What kind of ditch was this? Curious and assured that Squidgy was alive the boys and I joined in the rescue mission.

250m from our home, behind the mission housing we came upon a small rectangular opening in the ground approximately 2ft wide by 6ft long x 12ft deep. There at the bottom of this mucky, sloshy chimbuzi (toilet) pit was dear Squidgy. She looked up at me and I saw how nervous she was and afraid she felt. We hatched a plan to lower Maxwell into the pit with ropes. As he stood on his tiptoes he barely reached the ladder which was inside the Chimbuzi. He made his way down towards Squidgy, placing his feet in the same dirt and grime. He tied the rope around her chest. Two men up top pulled on the rope, but it was slipping and not secure enough to lift her. We sent another rope down and four rope ends came back up top with four strong men pulling at the end of each cord. Benson began to pray for our sweet dog. Slowly she began to emerge from the paste like mud that clung to her legs and chest. “Tien, tien” (a little more) she was now half way up, I kept my eyes on hers, urging her to stay still. She would soon be free.

Once her paws were secured on the ground, and the ropes untied, she moved close to my side, leaning her strong chest against my legs, smothering me with her affection and the residue of the Chimbuzi hole. The stench was like a sock soaked in rotten egg and left in a pond to fester a few days. I held my breath, but held onto Squidgy too. I was relieved she was ok. Relieved she had not broken any bones in her long fall. We fell in step as we walked home, Squidgy’s long legs outpacing mine, but slowing down to keep in time. To me this rescue was a miracle. And to Squidgy, it was a warning. A reason why she should not go outside our gate again. And she never did from that time on.

This story of Squidgy reminds me of the love of Jesus. I know I’ve messed up and fallen short of the glory of God, haven’t you? Squidgy disobeyed the “do not go out of the fence” rules and wound up in a Chimbuzi pit, covered with human waste, mud and slime. But we found her, like God finds each of us. He pulls us up from our troubles, out of the Chimbuzi hole we got ourselves into. He doesn’t look down on us when we fail and say, ‘I told you so’, He looks into our eyes and says, “I’ve got you, keep your eyes on me, I’m bringing you home.”