MY dog was gone, —big old lovable Buff. He looked like Lassie, the big sweet English Collie.
His food dish was full; he did not come home at night.
Next day on the school bus I asked, “Have any of you seen a big old yellow collie?” “Yup,” said one of the boys, “we shot one yesterday.”
My eyes stung with tears, but I didn’t let him see them. I wanted my Dad to go down and whip their Dad, but he didn’t.
Dad said, “It’s a rancher’s right. They have sheep and Buff was running with a pack of dogs —assumed to be sheep-killing dogs.”
This is what happens when you run with the wrong bunch. You find yourself doing what they do —even when it is wrong.
“Every- body’s doing it.” You find yourself going where they go —knowing you should not be there.
“Everyone’s going.” You find yourself talking like they talk; you know better. And people judge you by the company you keep.
“Do not be deceived: “Evil company corrupts good habits” (1Cor.15:33)
No doubt about it. Always has; always will.
Look what happened to ole Buff—assumed guilty and shot. My heart hurt—Buff was dead—once again Dad taught me about life