MARKED SAFE (FROM…)

365 Days of Thanksliving — Day 138

You’re going to have to forgive me tonight, because my snark meter is pegging past ten, and like Nigel’s amplifier, this bloke is taking it to eleven. Seriously, Day 138 is "one louder" than the rest. For the uninitiated, I’ll wait while you Google "Spinal Tap" and "Nigel Tufnel." Back? Good. Now that we’re all on the same page regarding 80s mockumentary excellence, let’s party on, dudes.

Tonight, I am thrilled to report that my wife and I have been "Marked Safe" from the Killer Vacuum Cleaner. I’ll give you a moment to recover from that bombshell. It’s an appliance roughly as lethal as a killer tomato or a low-budget 70s drive-in flick, but allow me to "splain" it to you, Lucy.

As many of you know, we share our home with two Boxers. Now, I’m not sure where the Boxer breed officially lands on the IQ spectrum, but mine frequently reside in the "bless their hearts" category of stupid. Regardless, we are still breathing. Had it not been for our boys tonight, that Dirt Devil surely would have become possessed and dragged our souls into the appliance underworld.

Like any functioning household, we have to unleash the "Sucky-Monster" occasionally to maintain the floors. Honestly, we should do it more often, but life happens. Tonight, I reached my limit with the sentient clumps of dog hair migrating across the hardwood like tumbleweeds in a bad Western, so it was go-time. I finished my sermon, powered down the computer, and prepared to power up the vacuum. But first, I needed tactical backup.

I needed the wife’s assistance. Not because I wanted her to do the work—vacuuming is actually my jurisdiction—but because we cannot even look at a broom or a mechanized jobby without first corralling the mutts. The second they spot a cleaning tool, they lose every ounce of mental acuity and go full-blown, ALL CAPS NUTZ. It’s as if their brains short-circuit and an ancient genome takes over, screaming, "Protect the hoomans from the plastic beast at all costs!"

I’ve seen the viral videos of dogs losing it over vacuums, but our boys take it to a level of performance art. If a real intruder ever had the misfortune of entering this house, they would be D-E-A-D. Between the frantic barking and the sheer chaotic energy of two Boxers on the warpath, a burglar wouldn't stand a chance—they'd probably be licked to death or tripped into submission.

Truly, if the zombie apocalypse arrives, or if that Roman Catholic "Three Days of Darkness" prophecy actually kicks in—Google that one too, it’s a wild ride—I think we’ll be just fine. A cage match between Arlo and Gus-Gus versus Satan’s minions? My money is on the dogs. They clearly believe they are the most fearsome twosome to ever walk the earth, at least when the broom decides to wage war.

Isaiah 54:17 promises that "no weapon formed against you shall prosper," though I’m fairly certain the Prophet Isaiah wasn't specifically referencing a Hoover upright. Still, who’s to say God doesn't use canine companions to ward off evil, real or imagined?

Allow me to pivot to a rare moment of actual sincerity. Tonight, I am genuinely thankful for the protective instincts of our dogs. If they didn’t love us, they wouldn’t try to save us from a harmless household appliance. Even when they’re making us lose our minds, they’re giving us a reason to laugh.

Heavenly Father, thank you for the companionship of our Boxer-bunch and their fierce desire to protect us from every evil lurking behind a bush (or under the sofa). Bless every pet owner this evening. May they receive all the cuddles and slobbery kisses they can handle, sleeping soundly knowing their animals are "marking them safe" from the dangers of the world.