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There are a couple of things right now that Julia and I are begging God for. Sometimes I imagine how great it would be if God were more like a vending machine. I approach with my good deeds and cash a few of them in for an answer to a prayer. Sadly, that’s exactly how I used to think God worked.

But that’s not how He works at all.

This morning, I came downstairs and found Julia in tears. She was worried that God might not answer these things we’re begging Him for now. Or worse, that He might answer them by giving us something that wasn’t what we wanted.

When our young boys ask for juice to drink and we give them milk, the reaction is often filled with drama and many tears. I’m sure they think it’s either the result of incompetence or malice that we wouldn’t give them juice. Or maybe they feel it’s just not in our nature as parents to comply with their requests.

Photo Credit: coba via Compfight cc

Photo Credit: coba via Compfight cc

But those boys don’t yet understand how deep our love is for them. They have no idea what we’ve gladly given up for them or what a pleasure it is to provide for them and watch them grow. They don’t understand why they need milk or that Julia is keeping track of their calcium vs sugar intake. All they know is they wanted sweet juice and they got milk instead.

Ironically, I too often assume the worst about how my Father provides for me–that maybe He is incompetent or unwilling to listen. Or that maybe it’s just in His nature to give me something He likes instead of something I’d enjoy. I struggle to believe He’s not that aunt that always gives socks and hand-knit beanies for Christmas.

I’m guessing that Julia and I are not alone here. I need to hear some truth this morning, so I’m going to write this post. I hope it encourages you as you beg God for that impossible thing in your own life.

Regardless of what I believe in my childish ignorance, here are the real too-good-to-be-true things about God that give me deep, deep hope that He will answer me–and answer well.

He’s Compelled by His Nature to Answer

Julia and I had a good discussion about this a few minutes ago. We were discussing whether God can simply choose to ignore us or choose to give us something bad when we asked for something good. The prevailing fear being that He may have His own callous agenda instead of our best interest at heart. Julia posed that question to me, tears streaming down her cheeks.

“No, He can’t ignore us,” I said.

She pressed, “But why? God can do anything He wants because He’s God.”

“True,” I said. “He is God. But there are some things even God can’t do.”

She looked at me puzzled, thinking I might be on the verge of heresy.

“He can choose to do anything He wants, but He can’t go against His own nature,” I explained.

I drew the distinction between voluntary choices we make and involuntary designs and wiring that we must obey. As much as a mother would vow that they would never hurt their own children or a pastor would vow he’d never cheat on his wife, there are circumstances that could arise that would cause those otherwise well-intentioned people to make a terrible choice. Maybe it’s the zombie apocalypse or maybe it’s one glass of wine too many, but circumstances can shape the voluntary choices we make.

On the other hand, no one can voluntarily choose to lower their own cholesterol or make their heart skip a beat. Those are not choices–they are the product of design. So, I asked Julia to recall when the boys were helpless newborns.

Photo Credit: storyvillegirl via Compfight cc

Photo Credit: storyvillegirl via Compfight cc

“When a newborn is in a crib and the mother hears them crying out for her to feed them, what happens?”

“Her milk comes down,” she answered.

“Exactly. Does the mother have any choice about that, or is it a natural response because of their nature as a mother?”

“She can’t help it. It just happens,” she answered.

Not only is it in His nature to answer, but He also knows how to give good things to us. Luke 11:11-13 says:

“Which of you fathers, if your son asks for a fish, will give him a snake instead? Or if he asks for an egg, will give him a scorpion? If you then, though you are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father in heaven give the Holy Spirit to those who ask him!”

When we cry out to God, His nature compels Him to answer, and because he loves us, He will answer with love to provide what we need.

His Answer is Always Either “Yes” or “Better”

My spiritual mentor and great friend, Randy, has enjoyed saying this to me over the years:

When you ask God for something, He can only answer one of two ways: “Yes” or “I have something even better in mind.”

This is an incredible way of summarizing what Scripture promises everywhere, and it presents a situation where we as His children can’t lose. The challenge is to believe this incredible promise is actually true. When we beg God for something, and we don’t get what we expected, what is our response? We believe that we heard God say “no.” But the challenge is believing His promise that He must have something even better in mind.

When I find this promise too good to believe (as I often do), I beg Him for the faith to believe His promises and that His love for me could actually be this great.

By the way, Randy just wrote a great Christmas season devotional book called All is Calm that you can find here or on your Kindle. Julia and I are reading it now, and he shares his thoughts on “yes or better” there.

Nothing is Outside His Power

Sometimes I think what I ask God for is unlikely or even next to impossible. But the Bible is full of examples of the impossible. He made animals speak. He parked the sun and moon in the sky for a full day. And when God decided to make a teenaged virgin a mother, she became pregnant. As she questioned the biological impossibility of this announcement to the angel who had given her the news, the angel told her:

The God who is not bound by logic, reason, or laws of the universe has demonstrated that He would even stop the planet He made from spinning. He’s listening, and nothing is outside His power.

The Waiting is More About Your Need for Him Than Your Need

So even with all this said, when I lay my head on my pillow tonight, I still may not have what I’ve begged Him for today. Even if all His promises are true, where’s an answer? Why hasn’t He shown up? Why does it seem He isn’t answering? Why the apparent silence?

Imagine a fly that lands on a painting on the wall. That fly can only see what’s immediately in front of it. There is limited perspective. Meanwhile, as you sit across the room, observing the painting and the fly, you can literally see the big picture.

Photo Credit: zachstern via Compfight cc

Photo Credit: zachstern via Compfight cc

This gets a bit technical, but in this life, we are bound by time and space. God, who is not bound by these things, sees the big picture and has already answered in the same way that the painting is already painted. The time for the answers has simply not come yet, from our limited perspective. (This raises the question of free will, but I will not get into that here other than to say God’s sovereignty and man’s free will coexist both wonderfully and mysteriously.)

So the question becomes about what to do in the waiting, and that’s where I’ve seen over and over that the waiting is so much more about my relationship with Him than it is about my need. When I see my need, I’m compelled to run to Him to fill it. The trials of waiting produce character, perseverance, and hope.

So my battle is learning to enjoy the silence, and in it, rest in Him. Like a child resting on His father’s chest, I want to enjoy the safety of His plan and trust that the answers will come as I lean in and just rest to the sound of His heartbeat.

Nobody Said It Was Easy

Yeah. Begging God to answer day after day and waiting for Him to answer is hard. I’m there–believe me. All I can say is that I have found His promises to be true, and I have to make the deliberate decision to trust Him. So when He says:

“but those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint.” -Isaiah 40:31

I have made a choice to believe Him because He’s not proven to be unfaithful yet.

And for today, that is enough for me.

My wife and I are coming up on ten years of marriage in a few months. People used to warn me that the first year of marriage is the hardest. Looking back, I’d probably agree with that, but it wasn’t because we argued a lot. It’s just that early in marriage, you’re forced to think for someone besides yourself all the time.

And quarter-century-old habits like that can be very hard to break.

I remember the first big post-marriage argument we ever got in. It was over something dumb, as most arguments always are. We were aggressively paying off the nearly $50,000 in debt and student loans that we married with. We had an aggressive plan that involved a lot of skipping “wants” in favor of “needs.”

Photo Credit: yezi9713 via Compfight cc

Photo Credit: yezi9713 via Compfight cc

That day, Julia had gone to the grocery store and come home with a 12-pack of Gatorade. This bothered me for two reasons–both of them stupid:

  1. As a Georgia Bulldog, I’ve always chosen to avoid the sports drink named for and developed by one of our most hated sports rivals, opting for Powerade instead.
  2. I’ve never been one to reach for sports drinks anyway. Water is free, and while we were paying off these loans, I saw sports drinks as a luxury, not something to be brought home en masse.

Being the sophomoric groom I was, I chose to say something instead of carefully choosing my battle. It started innocently enough, but there was menace in the question that she immediately detected.

“What’s up with all the Gatorade?” I asked.

“It was on sale, so I bought it,” she answered.

“Do we drink that much Gatorade?” I asked, knowing the answer.

She did not appreciate the obvious question, and the conversation quickly deteriorated. Not wanting to back down, I continued to press until she became very upset. She slammed the refrigerator door and retreated to our bedroom as ice began to form on the walls of our apartment.

I don’t remember how long we let the tension sit, but I remember thinking that was our first real argument. I felt like I was right. I kept justifying my actions to myself. She should be more careful with our money. She should have thought before she bought that. She should just agree with me.

You should just drop your guns.

The words rang out in my head like a megaphone in a library. The thought was so piercing, so resonant, and so foreign to my line of thinking in the moment that it couldn’t have come from my own head. God was telling me to shut up. He was telling me to go win back the bride that I had wounded.

I battled with the idea of walking in our bedroom and just telling her I was sorry. It was so counterintuitive. It’s the worst part of any argument: admitting you were wrong. In the moment, I began to question why it seemed so painful to just tell this beautiful girl that I was sorry for how I’d treated her. Then, I realized the answer.

It was just my own selfish pride.

 Photo Credit: Christopher Chan via Compfight cc

Photo Credit: Christopher Chan via Compfight cc

Pride. What a scaly, fire-breathing beast. It growls and stomps its feet, unapologetically demanding respect while giving it back disproportionately. It wrecks the house with its own special, grandiose kind of bullishness. It poisons the air with its putrid breath until it suffocates life. My pride had just taken a bite out of my wife, and I was letting it make its den for the night in our apartment.

What does it cost me to just walk in there and apologize to her and tell her I’m sorry? I questioned to myself. The answer was clear: I had to sacrifice the beast, my pride. I had to take a sword and stab my pride between its scales, right in the heart. So the question became “is my pride worth it?” Did I value preserving my pride more than I valued my wife’s feelings?

I love my wife. I knew the answer was easy: No.

I walked into the bedroom, over to her side of the bed and knelt down where she lay on top of the covers. She looked tired and wary, unsure if I was there for round two. I looked her in the eyes and, as sincerely as I could, said, “I’m sorry, baby. I shouldn’t have made a big deal about that Gatorade. It was so dumb and not worth making you upset. Will you please forgive me?”

As she always is, she was quick and gracious to forgive me.

Since then, we’ve had a standing pact to never go to bed angry with each other. In ten years, we’ve never done the sleep-on-the-couch thing because it’s not how we operate. We like to take Ephesians 4:26 rather literally:

“In your anger do not sin”: Do not let the sun go down while you are still angry,”

And you know what? It’s made a big difference in how we argue, when we do. But most of all, it has taught me to be willing to sacrifice my pride quickly; to not value it over her.

My pride betrays me. It makes me think I’m more important than I really am. It inflates my sense of ego and distorts how I see the world. It’s like a fisheye lens with me standing front and center. It skews my heart toward entitlement rather than sacrifice, love of self rather than love of others, and toward valuing the temporal over the eternal. My pride lies to me.

Photo Credit: YanivG via Compfight cc

Photo Credit: YanivG via Compfight cc

So when the storm comes and it’s time to start pitching things over the side of the boat, I want to be spiritually well-conditioned enough to have my pride start to shake nervously, knowing it will be the first thing I’ll point to angrily and demand, “YOU!

I’m not there yet, but by God’s grace, I’m getting there.

This is part 2 of a two-part series, continued from yesterday’s post.



5. That I Am An Entrepreneur

entrepreneur |ˌäntrəprəˈno͝or, -ˈnər|noun: a person who organizes and operates a business or businesses, taking on greater than normal financial risks in order to do so.

Six months ago, I left a good-paying, salaried job for a role on commission that demanded experience I had no proven track record for. I was crazy and so were they. But it was a calculated risk. I took other calculated risks several times during the last six months.

One could argue that the risks ultimately failed, but I would beg to differ. I learned that I would do it again and again. What do you know? I am an entrepreneur.
trust derrick

4. The Power of Trust

In my own life, I’m blessed to have many friends, but there are only a few that I allow in deep enough to trust implicitly. You are probably the same way. Why is this? It’s because trust in a relationship is like drilling for oil: it’s a precious resource that you can only gain by digging down deep.

In the last six months, I saw my team trust me more deeply than any team I have ever been a part of. The fact that I am 1,500 miles away from them had some to do with this, as does the fact that I was filling a sales role with no sales experience. But mainly, because they knew me, they knew I was a Linchpin.

They knew that I am someone who leads, inspires, creates, and connects people in such a way as to be indispensable and thereby turn each day at work into a kind of art. Once you feel that way about someone, your role becomes about how you can best set them free to work their magic. To me, this was incredibly freeing.

I was also blessed enough to be able to come alongside some pretty great clients who trusted me to help them improve what they do on the web. The result is a lot of work that I am pretty proud of and a deeply renewed appreciation for the value of trust.

3. To Trust Myself More

Speaking of trust, the last six months have taught me much about trusting my own instincts, experience, and intuition. This is especially true when it comes to reading people. Whether it’s about relationships, a client’s mindset, or a product, I have found that my gut is right more often than not, and this is a huge confidence builder that I did not anticipate. Best of all, it gives me tremendous confidence, moving forward.

2. To Trust God Most

God promises that He will work all things together for my good (Romans 8:28). Even when things appear dark, He is not only in control, but He ordains the darkness and uses it to accomplish His purpose. As my pastor, Randy Pope, put it last week, there’s not a thing that can happen to me that does not first pass through His loving, powerful hands.

The last six months has been a hairy, wild ride, but it has given me more reason to trust God than I have ever had. I am so grateful for that.

1. That I Don’t Have to Be Afraid to Fail

I don’t think there is any more powerful negative motivator in my life than the fear of failure. Many things in my life can be traced back to this. I don’t want to let people down. I don’t want people to think I am dumb. Or needy. Or weak. Or…whatever.

But there is something very powerful behind the idea of not being afraid to fail. These last six months have pushed me far outside my comfort zones, and the result–– every time––has been a reduction in my fear of failure.

In fact, one thing I have seen demonstrated is a willingness to fail in order to become better. The christian life is so much like this. I have seen so many times that I learn most from the times I fail. And it seems that the times I fail the hardest produce the best, most enduring lessons. I love how God meets me in those dark moments and lovingly restores my life.

What that teaches me is that while I never have to like a failed venture or a social blunder or poor decision, I don’t have to fear it. I don’t have to spend so much energy avoiding anything that resembles failure. Instead, I can look forward to the incredible opportunity to learn from those mistakes.


This past July, our dog, Sandy, was due for a vet appointment. Julia and I had been delaying it for a few months because every time we go, we feel nickel and dimed into a $250 or $300 bill for them to poke around on a perfectly healthy dog. So this time, we decided to try avoiding that.

Being the aggressive, Dave Ramsey budget-types we are, we set a budget for this visit. Julia suggested, “Let’s not spend over $200. Deal?”

I answered emphatically, “DEAL! But let’s call first and get an idea of what they need to do and how much they expect it to cost.”

So Julia called the vet and learned that we should be able to get Sandy in and out for around $200 after all the necessary tests, vaccinations, and exams were done. We booked the appointment, loaded the car with Sandy and the boys, and drove to the vet’s office, nearby.

They weighed. They vaccinated. They felt around on her, checking everything from Sandy’s teeth to her tail. They found a small mole that they kindly offered to biopsy for $80. I explained–as politely as I could–that we were not concerned with $80 dog moles today. The dog nurse smiled and nodded understandingly, then left the room to prepare the paperwork for us to check out.

“Dogs have been around for thousands of years,” I mumbled to Julia. “How did they survive without mole biopsies?” My clever sarcasm drew a wry smile from her, accompanied by a poke to my ribs.

The offending dog mole.

The offending dog mole.

The tech came back in and asked if we needed flea prevention. We’d done our homework–we knew that the vet discount was exactly $10 cheaper than what we could buy the same meds for online. “Yes, please,” Julia answered. The vet gave us the medication, and we left the exam room for the front desk.

As we waited for our turn to check out, Julia noticed that the total for services was $218…$18 over our $200 budget. We grumbled to ourselves, but by this time, the boys were starting to get rowdy and had begun to tease a rescue cat in a cage nearby. We agreed we both felt unwilling to create drama over the fact that we’d been told we should be able to get in and out for less than $200.

Julia suggested that I take Sandy and the boys to the car so that by the time I got them buckled in, she’d be checked out and would meet us. I left, put the boys in the car, and Julia followed moments later.

As I started the car and began to pull out of the parking spot, I noticed Julia staring at the bill with her lips pursed and a curious look on her face. “What’s wrong?” I asked.

“This bill. It was only $128,” she replied.

My first thought was Whoa! That’s awesome! My second thought was Man, that was WAY less than I expected! Then my third thought was Wait a minute. That’s almost a hundred dollars less. Huh?

“Here, can I see?” I asked. She handed me the bill.

Everything looked the same as it had on the bill the dog nurse gave us. Then, I noticed a line item for a $100 discount. After staring and scratching our heads for a minute, we both concluded that the nurse had fat-fingered an extra zero. She had accidentally given us a $100 discount on the flea medication instead of a $10 discount, essentially resulting in her handing us a scott-free $90.

We looked at each other for a moment, taking in the situation.

Lots of things went through my mind. Here are just a few:

  • Hallelujah! God has provided for our needs through this much-needed discount!
  • This was their mistake. It’s not my fault.
  • Go ooooon, take the money and run! Hoo! Hoo! Hoo!
  • Well, I would go back in there and let them fix it, but I’m already in the car and everything.

I looked at Julia, who was already looking back at me. Her expression made clear that she was thinking what I was thinking, but that the Holy Spirit was gnawing at her, too. It was my call. I looked in the back seat at the boys, who looked back, not fully understanding what had happened, but knowing enough as toddlers to see we were wrestling with something. It pained us both to correct such a fortuitous error.

I looked at Julia and said, “I know we could really use an extra $90 right now, but this is not a gift from God. This is a test.” Julia nodded in agreement. “I’ll stay here with the boys. Can you go back in?” Julia was already unbuckling herself as I spoke and she left to go back inside.

Ten minutes later, she came back out. I had walked the boys over to the nearby train track to watch a passing freight train, and Julia came over to join us. “Well, we blew that lady’s mind today,” she commented. “She made a big scene about me coming back in there to correct that. She called all the nurses over and everything.” Then she added with a mumbled whisper, “So embarrassing.”

I laughed, feeling confident we had done the right thing, but also a bit sore that we had now paid $218 instead of $128. “Well, it’s probably not every day someone returns to correct a $100 error. She probably figured we didn’t need the money.”

Yes, I know this is only $50, but you get the point.

Yes, I know this is only $50, but you get the point.

Integrity for Sale?

On the way home, Julia and I continued to discuss what had happened. It’s not that we didn’t need the $90. It’s just that we were not willing to sell our integrity for $90. But that begs the question: would I have sold my integrity for $900? Or for $90,000? Or for $900,000? I’d like to think that I surely wouldn’t. The promise of money like that is tremendous. It would promise a lot of security at a time when we could use some.

The only way to combat the incredible promise of money like that is with a greater promise. And that’s what went through my head as I debated leaving or returning that $90. Whatever that $90 promised me, here is what God promised:

“Whoever can be trusted with very little can also be trusted with much, and whoever is dishonest with very little will also be dishonest with much.” Luke 16:10

“The Lord rewards everyone for their righteousness and faithfulness.” -I Samuel 26:23a

“But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well.” – Matthew 6:33

So the key is that I had to gut-check myself over which I valued more: A quick return here on earth, or a greater reward in Heaven? Too often, I make the wrong choice. On this day, God gave me the clarity of mind to honor Him and make the right choice.

We didn’t give that lady a gospel pamphlet or write a bible verse on the receipt. We didn’t tell her we were Christians or invite her to church. We didn’t do anything to advertise Jesus, except to do what He would have done. And I hope that for that one lady, it made a difference.

If it did, it was surely worth $90 to me.

In September of 2009, I had just been promoted to a special position within the company where I’d worked for the previous six years. I enjoyed the work, and felt like the promotion meant that a lot of hard work had payed off. Best of all, it allowed my wife, who had worked in the same department with me during that time, to quit her job to stay home with our eight month old baby.

Her being a stay-at-home mom was a dream come true for us both.

But two weeks after she quit, I was called into the conference room for a rare, impromptu meeting with the Vice President. After seeing the economic downturn affect our company the previous few years and cause round after round of layoffs, I suddenly had that ominous feeling of a cow being led to the slaughterhouse. My senses were confirmed when I arrived at the conference room to find the room full of three managers and two other employees that I’d never worked with before.

This was no layoff. This was a firing squad.

The Vice President proceeded to tell me and the two redshirts on my flank that the company was changing in a way he didn’t like, and that he was sorry…blah, blah, blah…and he had to let us go. I was completely shocked, but before I could even summon a reaction, he slid an envelope across the table that, he explained, contained my severance package.

He continued to explain to the three of us that today would be our last day. We weren’t allowed to return to our computers. We had to pack our things right now and one of the other managers in the room would be glad to help me with that. (Translation: we’re also going to escort you from the building just in case you decide to flip out and start breaking things or peeing on them.)

I felt stunned. I felt panic. My mind immediately went to thoughts of my wife and baby at home. My gut reaction was to try to change their mind and remind them of the promotion I had just received and of how much value I was bringing to them with my current projects, but I immediately realized we were beyond that. Then, I felt a rush of desperate anger––but I immediately realized that would be no help, either. All of those emotions and thoughts came and passed in less than two seconds.

As the two other schlubs painfully filed out of the room with their tails tucked between their legs, I did the only dignified thing I could think to do. I stood up, looked the Vice President directly in the eyes, reached out my hand to him and said as sincerely as I could, “Bill, it’s been a great working for you, and I appreciate you hiring me six years ago and for the opportunities I’ve had working here. Thanks.”

I later realized this must have taken him off guard. He was probably preparing for something less cordial. The image of Han Solo in the Mos Eisley cantina later came to mind––his hand secretly grasping his blaster under the table, pointing at Greedo with his finger on the trigger, in case things went south.

Whatever Bill was ready for, he wasn’t ready for a sincere thanks from someone he’d just sent packing. The look on his face made that clear. But he quickly gathered himself, stood, and shook my hand while mumbling something about me landing on my feet.

As I left the parking lot that day, amid the rush of “what now?” thoughts, I felt an undeniable and overwhelming sense of relief. It felt strange, and as I began to question why I felt relief, I realized how much I disliked that job. The politics, the gossip, the commute, the mundane, factory floor-style nature of the work itself–it was a rock in my shoe that I had, in time, developed a callous for. With it suddenly yanked from me, I couldn’t deny the relieved feeling of “ahhhhhh!” that I felt.

And that was when I felt a sense of great comfort wash over me like a gentle, giant wave. “God is up to something big,” I thought, “and this is just the beginning.”

When I got home, my wife asked why I was home so early. I explained to her what happened. She cried. I told her about what I had been thinking about on my way home, trying to reassure her that we wouldn’t soon be out on the street, eating garbage.

One week later, we found out we were pregnant with baby #2. I just laughed. I laughed from joy, but I also laughed because I didn’t want to panic again. “These are only the kinds of stories you can write,” I told Jesus. I’m sure he laughed, too. If he could have text messaged me a response, I like to think it would have said, “Yep. I know! LOLZ. Best parts are still coming.”

He would have been right.

With a severance package that lasted for six weeks, I found work in five. And the new job paid more and was half the commute of the job I’d lost. Baby #2 was born very healthy (at nearly 10lbs). I’ve had a couple of different jobs since that time, and each one has been better than the last.

So how did I survive that first job layoff?

There’s a scene in Matrix Revolutions where Neo speaks with the antagonist who built the matrix. They’re in a room surrounded by walls made of hundreds of small TV screens. When the Architect speaks to Neo, each TV screen plays a different reaction Neo could choose as a response. The responses range from anger, to weeping, to fear, but in the end, Neo chooses one reaction to actually display. From a range of emotions and reactions, he chose to give the best one.

There’s also a place in the Bible where Jesus gives a hard teaching, and most of His disciples choose to abandon Him. Jesus turns to the core Twelve who remained and asked if they wanted to abandon Him, too. Peter speaks up in John 6:68 and confesses that there’s nowhere else to go when Jesus is the only thing they need. He says:

I survived that trying time in my life by doing the only thing I knew to do: trusting God and choosing the response I thought He would have given. That doesn’t make me special or holy. It just makes me thankful that God has trained me to weather life’s storms by looking to Him for strength instead of looking to myself.

So in every storm, I can always claim His promises to me and know that the best parts are still to come.

Our dog, Sandy, turned eight years old last week. She is one of the best, most obedient, well-trained dogs I have ever known. But despite all her great qualities, our sweet Sandy has an addiction.

Many times, Julia and I have returned home to discover trash bags torn open and scattered across the floor, looking as though wild animals have attacked. Sharing details would turn your stomach. The dog has a sickness. We’ll leave it at that. She just can’t help herself. Her little garbage-loving Mr. Hyde comes out and does awful things.

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