I recently took my little 8-pound rescue dog Yaz to the vet to have his teeth cleaned. An hour after I dropped him off, the vet called. His voice sounded oddly pinched.
“Mrs. Coty,” he said without any ado, “we lost Yaz.”
My hand flew to my mouth.
“Right after we gave him anesthesia for his procedure, he quit breathing. Then his heart stopped. He died on the table.”
WHAT?!? I was so shocked, I couldn’t speak. My horror hung heavily in the air like choking smog. Then the voice continued.
“My tech started resuscitation measures right away and we were able to bring him back and get him stabilized. I’ve seen this happen before, and it doesn’t always end well. God was with that little dog today. Yaz is on oxygen and an IV, but he should be fine.”
When I went in to pick up my dear, furry companion, Yaz licked my swollen, salty eyes. The vet retold the story of the “lucky little dog who came back from the dead.”
What the vet didn’t know was that there was no luck involved whatsoever. I’d had a dark, ominous feeling all the way there that morning that I was telling Yaz goodbye for the last time. It didn’t make sense, but I’ve learned not to ignore such Holy Spirit elbow jabs. So, I hadn’t stopped praying for him the whole time. He was covered with prayer. It was God’s grace that brought him back, not luck.
After I stupefied Spouse with the incredible story of Yaz getting all the way to the doggie door in the pearly gates before being turned back, he said, “We’ve got to change his name to reflect God’s miracle. Let’s call him Lazarus. Instead of Yaz, he can be Laz.”
So it is. Like Saul turned into Paul, and Abram turned into Abraham, and Jacob turned into Israel, Yaz has turned into Laz, the resurrection dog. He answered to his new name with a passionate wag, and he did indeed come forth. Praise the Lord!
