Paddy’s Peculiar Predicament: A Poodle-Retriever Who’s
Allergic to... Water?
By Pastor Jim Allen, Trinity Evangelical Church
Oh, Paddy, my overly thoughtful, fluffy confidante!
Life with my Golden Doodle is never dull, especially when his inquisitive mind
gets churning. Most mornings, you’ll find him “reading” his dog-eared
(literally!) Bible, his brow furrowed in concentration. Lately, his theological
studies have led him down a path of profound concern: the perplexing concept of
water.
Now, anyone who knows anything about dogs knows that
Golden Retrievers rejoice in water, and Poodles, well, their very name, pudeln
comes from the German for splashing! You’d think with such an impressive
aquatic lineage, Paddy would be a blazing torpedo in any body of water. But no.
My dear Paddy, despite his impeccable breeding, has somehow inherited an
aversion to H2O that would make a desert cat proud.
Take last spring, for instance. We embarked on a
glorious beach vacation, a picturesque paradise of sun and sand down in Gulf
Shores, Alabama. Paddy, ever the enthusiast, was in his element. He dug
trenches worthy of a military engineer, chasing seagulls with a joyful bark and
rolling in the warm grains until he resembled a sandy, happy tumbleweed. The
ocean, however? That vast, shimmering expanse that called to his ancestors? He
viewed it with the suspicion of a cat encountering a cucumber. A cautious sniff,
a tentative paw dip, and then a hasty retreat, as if the waves personally
offended him. Even the sparkling blue of the swimming pool drew nothing but a
polite, yet firm, “No, thank you, human.”
It’s this curious water-wary nature that led to his
recent crisis of faith. Last Sunday, after our Church’s Blessing of the Animals
service, where he gracefully accepted a tiny, dignified drop of holy water,
Paddy returned to his Scriptures with renewed fervor. He’d been reading about
Jesus’ baptism, and the idea of being “dunked under the water” sent shivers
down his fluffy spine.
“Human!” Paddy exclaimed, looking up from his Bible
with wide, concerned eyes. “This ‘baptism’ thing... it involves immersion!
Like… completely wet?”
I tried to reassure him. “Paddy ol’ boy, dogs don’t
get baptized. It’s just for people.”
But Paddy, ever the deep thinker, wasn’t convinced.
He’d seen me praying, he’d seen me read the Bible, he even knows the difference
between a biscuit and a holy communion wafer (don’t ask). If I was concerned
about spiritual matters, why shouldn’t he be?
So, with a determined wag of his tail, he asked me with
an earnest whine and a series of theatrical splashes of air with his paw… I
found myself cornered.
“Rev!” Paddy began, his voice laced with urgency. “About
this ‘baptism’ business... what exactly does it mean? And is it... a lot
of water?”
I bent down to pat Paddy on the head and said, “Well,
hello there, Paddy! My, you look like you’ve been doing some serious studying.
What’s on your mind today, my furry theologian?”
“It’s this ‘baptism’!” Paddy stated, looking very
serious. “The Bible says ‘dunked’! That sounds... wet, Rev, very, very
wet.” He shuddered, looking pointedly at a glass of water on the coffee table
as if it were a perilous abyss.
I chuckled. “Ah, yes, ‘dunked.’ It does involve
water, Paddy, quite a bit of it sometimes! Baptism is a beautiful symbol for
people. It’s a public way to show their faith. You see, when a person is
lowered fully under the water, it symbolizes the death of their old self, and
when they are raised up, it symbolizes the resurrection to a brand new life in
Christ. It’s what the Apostle Paul wrote in Romans 6:4:
“We were buried therefore with Jesus through baptism
to death, that just as Christ was raised from the dead through the glory of the
Father, so we also might walk in newness of life.”
Paddy tilted his head, processing this. “Cleansing?
Like a bath? But... without the nice warm towels and the ear-cleaning after?”
I couldn’t resist chiming in. “Now, Paddy, you know you
get a shower every week! And you hate every second of it until it’s done. But
then you run those ‘zoomies’ all over the house because you smell like
lavender!”
Paddy’s face immediately registered indignation. “A
shower is a necessary evil, thank you. And the scent of lavender is simply a
pleasant side effect of my survival! It does not negate the trauma of the
actual soaking.”
I laughed, “Well, Paddy, I can assure you, baptism
is not exactly like your weekly lavender wash. It’s about a person’s personal
decision and public declaration of faith. It’s a human sacrament.”
“But Rev,” Paddy interjected, his voice rising in
alarm, “Jesus was fully in the water! I saw the pictures! Even in the
swimming pool, I just prefer to walk around the edge. And the ocean, last
spring? Too much splash! Too much... vastness!” He gestured dramatically
with a paw towards the window, as if the local birdbath was the Gulf of America.
I stroked Paddy’s soft fur. “I understand your
concern about the water, Paddy. And you’re right, for people, it’s often a full
immersion, symbolizing that complete new beginning. But here’s the thing, my
friend: while you are a wonderfully spiritual dog, and God certainly loves you
very much...”
Paddy leaned in, ears perked, hoping for a loophole.
“...baptism is a sacrament specifically for humans.
It’s about a human’s personal decision and public declaration of faith. It is
symbolic to dying to the world as we go under the water, but rising to NEW LIFE
in Christ as we come up out of the water.”
Paddy’s tail gave a tentative wag, then slowed. “So...
no ‘dunking’ for dogs, Rev? No getting my beautiful fluff completely soggy?”
“No dunking for dogs, Paddy,” I confirmed with a
gentle smile. “Your job is to bring joy, wag your tail, cuddle, and yes,
sometimes give us a good laugh with your curious questions. God made you
perfect just the way you are, water-averse or not.”
“Just so you know Paddy,” I continued, “Some people
are water averse as well, so I will baptize using the method of their choice.
However, I prefer baptizing them the old fashion way in my cow tank!”
Paddy let out a relieved sigh that puffed out his
jowls. “Phew! That’s a relief, Rev! My coat is far too luxurious for all that ‘cleansing.’
I shall stick to my weekly, dreaded, lavender-induced shampoo showers, thank
you.” He gave a happy shake, as if shedding the very thought of excessive
moisture.
Later that evening, after his shower and about 45
minutes of the zoomies as he tore through the house with excitement, Paddy
snuggled beside me, still contemplating the mysteries of the universe and, more
importantly, the strategic avoidance of puddles, I gave him a gentle scratch
behind the ears. “You know, Paddy,” I mused, “it’s funny how you come from two
breeds, the Poodle and the Golden Retriever, who are famous for loving water.
Yet here you are, my little landlubber!”
He just sighed, a very dramatic dog sigh, and rested
his head on my lap, probably dreaming of vast, dry expanses of sand and
perhaps, a slightly damp biscuit. My talking, water-averse Golden Doodle – a
true original, and a constant source of adorable, slightly damp, amusement.
For More Information: Pastor Jim encourages you to attend your Church of
choice, but if you are looking for a Church home, please feel free to join us
for the 10:10am Worship in the Trinity Evangelical Church Sanctuary. Pastor Jim
and Paddy, the water-averse puppy will be excited to see you. We also invite
you to our Hogtoberfest Pork Chop Supper on Saturday, October 18th, 2025.
Tickets are $15. Carry-outs are from 11am to 5pm and Dine-In is from 4-6:30pm.
A wide variety of Auction Baskets are also possible to win. Tickets for the
auction baskets are $1 a ticket or $5 for 6 tickets. (See the Hogtoberfest ad
in this newspaper).
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