Our chocolate lab has been an indoor dog her entire life. In fact, I often had a difficult time convincing her she was not a LAP dog. Since moving to the farm, things have changed for our social pup. With twenty acres of sand and swamp (not to mention cow dung) to romp in, she is never clean enough to bring inside.
She is in her glory all day long carousing through the yuck.
Come bedtime, however, when we all go inside, she stands at the back door with the most forlorn look on her face, stunned that we are not letting her in with us.
Actually, if she would be content to just run through the grassy fields, she'd probably be fine to come in. However, she's not content with that. No, she insists on diving headlong into our rather mucky pond, and then, still soaking, rolling around in the sand, coating herself completely.
There is no way we could let her in the house unless we bathe her, and so far, we haven't been able to keep her clean long enough for her to make it into the house even for a minute. (The girls have high hopes for Christmas Eve...)
Her determination to wallow in the dirt keeps her from enjoying full-time fellowship with her master.
What a picture! How often do I miss out on entering the cool and welcoming presence of my Master because I insist on rolling my mind or my spirit in the mire of pride or worry or fear?
Oh, wash me Lord, so that I can come inside.