I met Frederick the dog on one of my daily runs. I know his name because I heard the neighbors calling for him one day, but I renamed him Freaky Fred. He was a spastic rat terrier who seemed to plot ways to sabotage my runs. The little dog would pop out the moment we passed, barking and nipping at my ankles, and causing me to fall flat on my face a few times. Fred also loved to torment my dogs, and once hopped on Holly’s back when she passed him. The dogs would look at me a few houses before we passed Fred’s as if to say, “Please don’t make us run past the freaky little dog’s house!” We tried to change our running route, but Fred always found us. After a while, I became annoyed that the owners didn’t seem to care about controlling their very annoying pet.
After a few months of this, I began to avoid Freaky Fred and take a different route where he couldn’t find me. One morning I was running without the dogs and enjoying the solitude when an elderly man in a car rolled down his window and waved me over. He looked distraught and when I got to the car, I noticed he was crying.
“Miss, I know you run in our neighborhood a lot, and we’ve lost our dog. We’ve looked for a day now and can’t find him.” He described his lost dog and, you guessed it, he was looking for Freaky Fred. I’m sorry to admit that my first thought was that there would be no more falls and tormenting of my dogs from Fred. But that thought passed quickly as the man wiped his tears and glanced around for another look. I told him I would help search for his dog. I was off my regular route, and certain that Fred wouldn’t be anywhere close. Reluctantly, I prayed for Fred and as I did, my heart felt compassion for the little dog. I was determined to find him, which had to be God, since any other day the thought of facing Fred would have made me run the other way.
After about three miles, I looked over and noticed movement in a bush. I never look at bushes when I run, so I was sure God was in this passing glance. I slowed and walked over to get a closer look. And there was Fred. The little terrier was shaking and covered with mud. He was no longer the rowdy dog who wanted to take on the world, but a frightened, vulnerable creature who looked up at me from behind a bush. “Okay Fred, it’s just you and me. I know we haven’t been the best of friends. In fact, I’ve detested you a tiny bit, but it’s time to change that.” In the past, Fred was always in attack mode and would never let me get close to him, so I wasn’t sure how this would end. I held out my hand and sat waiting for him. Fred peeked his dirty face from the bushes and made a popcorn leap out, bypassing my hand and landing in my lap. He licked my face as if to say, “I’m sorry and I surrender! Let’s be friends!” At that moment, Fred and I became buddies. It was about three miles to his home, and I held that little dog the entire way. During our run, we sort of bonded, and I realized that Fred had a story. I didn’t know it, but I was about to find out.
As I walked up the hill with Fred in my arms, the older man was standing in his driveway. When he saw me with his dog, he put his hands on his cheeks and in a quivering voice called out, “Is that Fred? Do you have our boy?”
I waved to him triumphantly. “Yes, I found him!” I felt a catch in my throat and a tingle in my nostril, but tried to swallow back the tears. The face of Fred’s owner did me in,
and I began to ugly cry. When I think back on that moment, we must have been quite a sight–a sweaty, sobbing woman trudging up the hill holding a muddy little rat terrier. When Fred caught sight of his owner, he jumped out of my arms and the reunion began. The humans cried, and the dog barked for joy. As I talked with Fred’s owner, the story unfolded. The man was caring for his wife, who had Alzheimer’s. The couple rescued Fred the previous year, and he had come to them with cigarette burns, cuts across his body, and raw, bleeding rope burns on his neck. They saved Fred and had good intentions of training him, but health issues prevented it. The man and his wife had been too overwhelmed to help him learn manners and how to ignore the passing runners. Despite his many quirks, they loved Fred. When he went missing, the wife was distraught. She was crazy about their little dog and couldn’t imagine what she would do without him. As I walked into their backyard, I saw the small hole where Fred would make his daily escapes. The man was too busy caring for his wife to realize Fred had slipped through the fence and was roaming the streets. Together, we secured the escape route and then I looked at Freaky Fred. He looked back at me. When I learned the man had named his dog after his brother, I knew that Fred and I would stay friends. I heard his story, and that made all the difference.
I spent several hours with the couple that day, and then ran home, thanking God for the lesson of Fred. He was “freaky” for a reason. His tough exterior covered up some deep hurt and pain, and his attacks were a type of protection for him. It was as if Fred was saying, “I’ve been hurt, and I won’t let you hurt me. In fact, I’ll get you first!”
How many Freds have we had in our lives? How many times have we been quick to judge others without knowing their story? When people hurt or mistreat us, we often label them as mean, rude, or hateful. We’ve all name-called others who are different and rub against us like sandpaper. They may be family members or people we encounter in passing. I’m guilty of this, especially when someone is hateful and hurts me deeply. I disregard them as hopeless, and leave the situation annoyed, or angry. I don’t stop to consider that sometimes, a person simply needs a kind word, compassion, and time to tell their story to someone who will listen. Just like Fred, trembling in the bushes, they cover up all the pain and hurt with a tough exterior, until they can’t anymore.
After my encounter with Fred and his owners, I asked God to give me eyes to see and a heart to love the people who hurt me. Instead of labeling them freaky, I need to remember that in God’s eyes, they are fabulous! I continue to pray that God will clear my vision so I can see people as He sees them.
On my runs now, I see that little dog watching eagerly at the window in the gate. I’ve renamed him Fabulous Fred, and I smile when he wags his tail at me, then I walk over for a quick pet and a chat. One or two days a week, I leave my dogs at home and I walk with Fred. During our time together, I’ve trained him a little and realized that he is a smart fella. We are best of friends now, and I’ve deepened my relationship with his owners as well. A few months ago, I couldn’t have imagined Fred and me hanging out, but God has a way of turning Freaky into Fabulous!
I challenge you to think of people in your life who annoy or hurt you. Pray for them and ask God to change your heart toward them. You’ll be amazed by what He reveals and how doors swing open. The change will always begin in your own heart, and blossom from there. I love these journeys with God and the lessons along the pathway. Sometimes those lessons come wrapped in the form of a spotted little dog named Frederick. Bark on, my friends, bark on!
We are thrilled to announce that this blog inspired a children’s book called “Freaky Fred” by Melodie Wright. Fred’s legacy continues, and will be blessing many children via this amazing children’s book!
