August 26, 2019, by Todd Neva
Anybody who has visited me knows Comet, and they know Comet wants to show his rug and be petted.
Comet likes to hug Sara. He sits and lifts a front leg, and Sara knows that means she should kneel in front of him. He puts both paws on her shoulders.
When Kristin cooks food, he sits pretty, but patiently, hoping he’ll get some food. Maybe a fish skin. Trimmings from a ribeye steak.
Comet doesn’t expect anything from me. He knows I can’t pet him, and I can’t give him table scraps.
He’s my buddy, nonetheless. He hangs out with me in my office.
When he’s bored, he goes to the window and stares outside, and then he looks over to me expectantly.
He knows I can’t let him out, but he knows I have the power to call people to his aid.
“Isaac,” I call to the other end of the house, “come let Comet out.”
Comet then waits by the door for Isaac to come.
It’s how I feel about prayer. For years, I prayed for God to heal me, but now I mostly pray for help. And many people have come to our aid.