Proof The Bible Is True

Two miles separated my house from Carver’s General Store, but I didn’t mind the trip when Poochy was with me.

 

I pedaled my J.C. Higgins bike down Graham Road. Poochy always ran right alongside me, round velvety ears flapping, pink tongue hanging out. Poochy was my best friend that summer in the 1940s. My only friend. I was 11.

 

Dad lived in a mental hospital 50 miles away. Mom worked long hours and didn’t make enough for someone to babysit me. I was on my own. Mom always said God was with me, but I sure couldn’t feel it. My nighttime prayers seemed to go nowhere.

 

I figured God had more important things to do than listen to me. Not like Poochy, who never left my side.

 

Poochy slept at the foot of my bed. We roamed the woods behind our house together. He stood lookout while I raided my neighbor’s cherry tree, and lay beside me as I read mysteries under the old apple tree.

 

I pedaled up to Carver’s and leaned my bike against the side. “You wait here, Poochy, while I get us some ice cream.”

 

Poochy wagged his feathery tail. I always shared my vanilla cup with him.

 

Read More: When Poochy Went Missing – Guideposts