By Denise Crane

Basher is one of the rescues in our pack that we got to name. He is also the only dog that didn’t come from some sort of rescue/shelter agency. He’s also a fugitive from across state lines. In our family, we love the crazy story of how he came to live with us.

The story starts in Calabash, North Carolina, where my in-laws used to live. Since they lived on a golf course, it was a great place for the golfers in our family to get together. Specifically, my brother (who lives in Virginia), my husband John, and son Bryan (who live in Texas) and my father-in-law would get together periodically with a group of guys my brother knows and go on those intensive golf trips where you play two courses a day and golf until your arms fall off. The trips almost always were in the Carolinas where golf courses are prevalent. It was at the tail end of one of those excursions that Basher’s origin story starts.

Did I mention that my husband and son had flown to North Carolina? 

The golf trip had ended and John and Bryan had stayed an extra day to enjoy a visit with John’s parents. The evening before their flight home, they went out into the garage to pack up their golf clubs.

A bedraggled, skinny, dirty mess of a dog walks up the driveway and sits down at Bryan’s feet. For those of you who have read the article about Tulip, you may begin to picture Bryan as a dog whisperer. Maybe. Surely though, that bedraggled mess of a dog honed right in on him. Sat there and looked up as if fully knowing he had found his way to a dog family. John’s mom promptly got him some chicken. Bryan and John gave him a bath. I got a phone call from John.

“Honey, this dog showed up. I’m not sure what we are going to do, I’ll keep you posted.”

Huh?

Then John’s mom starts checking with neighbors. No one knows anything about the dog. One neighbor offers a leash. John’s mom suggests calling a shelter. As soon as those words are out of her mouth apparently Bryan makes the decision that he is not going home without this dog if the alternative is “the pound.” John’s dad calls the airport and orders a rental car then drives John, Bryan, and the now clean and less famished dog to the Wilmington airport. The airport is an hour north of Calabash. John goes in to get the rental car. It’s dark by now and no one is sure if the rental car company approves of dogs in their cars so John’s dad drives behind where they get the small SUV and everyone sneaks Basher in. Clubs and luggage are added. John, Bryan, and the dog begin the long drive back to Texas. They start out by driving an hour south from the airport passing Calabash on the way.

Did I mention that my husband and son had flown to North Carolina? Did I mention that at the time my son’s license was suspended and he couldn’t legally drive? Did I mention that it’s about a nineteen hour drive? And that they started by driving an hour north to get a car so they could then drive an hour south?

I make them check in with me every couple of hours along the way since they had already had a full day, hadn’t planned any of this adventure, and had a strange dog in a rental car that only one of them can drive. “What are you going to name him?” I ask. “Maybe you should name him Calabash since that’s where you were when he found you.” At some point Bryan decides to name him Basher.

And at every stop along the way, Basher poops out corn. He must have been living on corn. He may have walked up that driveway just because there was no corn there.

We have no idea when Basher was born. We have no idea where Basher was born. If he was abandoned by owners or wandered off from his home and got lost. 

We just know he found his forever home and his forever family and I have always been certain God led that furry mess of a dog to a place he could be loved and cared for by people unwilling to abandon him because it was inconvenient.  

Sometimes love is inconvenient. And we can choose to love anyway. That is the way I understand God’s love for God’s creation. That is the way I understand how Basher came to be taken care of. It reassures me of God’s presence in all of creation that Basher would be guided to our family to be loved and nurtured. It seemed so random. I don’t think it was.

Did I mention my husband and son had flown to North Carolina?