On the high road with Rambo

For the past several summers our son, Andrew, has worked as a counselor at Mount Moriah Christian Camp and Conference Center in Powell, Tennessee.

This summer he was elevated to the position of Director of Youth Camps.

If Andrew thought he was busy in previous seasons, these latest hot-as-a-just-born-biscuit camp weeks put a whole new spin on the concept of slammed to the moon.

But that kid, my kid Andrew? Shot out of a cannon. Born going ninety miles an hour standing still. His metabolism may be the eighth wonder of the world.

At the end of an endless day he still has enough energy in reserve to power a third-world country for more than a skinny minute.

In the many-faceted planning stages leading up to the first salvo of 2011 campers disembarking dusty church buses at Mount Moriah, Andrew told me he had obtained clearance from higher-ups to locate and secure possession of the perfect "camp dog."

Oh boy, I thought. Oh dog.

It didn't take long. A few phone calls, a couple of trips throughout the surrounding countryside for look-sees, and there was Rambo.

Done and done.

The family who owned the fully-grown Labrador were moving and could not keep him. Although heartbroken at losing their pet, they were determined to arrange for him an idyllic new life with a devoted new owner.

There was a young boy in the home. He could not look at Andrew or speak when it was time for Rambo to go. Tears clouded Andrew's eyes as he drove away with the prize, but I imagine a glint of love and triumph dewed them as well.

Because Rambo IS the pluperfect camp dog. In addition to being Andrew's boon companion, he spent the summer allowing himself to be mauled more or less constantly by children of all ages.

Tail wagging languidly the whole time, placid expression on his face. Loving the life of a camp dog. Paws firmly affixed to the high road.

To say the camp children liked the camp dog is as much an understatement as saying East Tennesseeans sometimes prefer their tea chilled and a trifle on the sweet side.

They adored him. Erica paid a visit and captured images of Rambo serving as bed and pillow for kids who became so attached, they practically needed to be crowbarred from his side.

On Fridays, otherwise known to the campers as Tee Shirt Day and to the counselors as The Day These Kids Go Home, Rambo thrilled the youthful congregation in the tabernacle by trotting in last, sporting his own Mount Moriah tee shirt.

He came to my house in June and we went over the mountains to see him in July. Ramby's my granddog. I dearly love both him and his boy.

How dull and spiritless this world would be without our pets. Especially the canine kind. And God, please pour special love down on those selfless trusting awww-inducing working dogs. Like Rambo.