The Flog – The Fabry Log

We had to muzzle Tebow last night. It's the ears. The vet said he needs them flushed and rinsed and medicated. We tried without the muzzle but he was having none of it.

So we got him a treat and tried to coax him into the muzzle. Again, he was having none of it.

Finally, Reagan brought him onto his lap and held him tightly, and with a swift move I got the muzzle on. But it didn't fit Reagan.

No, I mean Tebow. Now he was scared. His one way to communicate with us was taken away. No more snarling and showing his teeth.

Brandon grabbed his hind legs, we put him on his side (this took four people and the dog is barely ten pounds), and Andrea applied the medication.

He struggled for a while, and then we began talking to him gently, encouraging him. "Good boy, Tebow! Good boy."

I felt him relax in my hands. And when we turned him over for the other ear, he didn't seem as scared or fidgety. When it was over and the muzzle was off, he ran around the room wagging his tail and looking at us, as if he were grateful we cared. There was also a bit of, "Never do that again."

I don't know how many times God has muzzled me and held me down. I don't know how many times it will happen again. It feels better when it's over, but I know deep down it's never going to be over. There's always something growing in my spiritual ears.