He Was a Teenage Jesus Part I

You never hear about Jesus as a teenager and believe me there are reasons.

We little white dogs live good long lives and by the time Jesus hit his teen years I was, in dog years, over forty and wise in the ways of the world such that even the Son of God could not be at the age of sixteen.

So I was not just a mentor for Jesus but also a kind of hall monitor and barometer and sounding board and all-around keeper-eyer-on-er. Eyekeeper, I suppose you would say, though it does sound a bit gruesome on second thought.

And as uncomfortable as it was, given my position I was expected to report back to the universe and God on a fairly regular basis, because due to the free will thing—which God imposed rigidly on His Son just like any other human, which is perhaps logical but at the same time kind of dhogmatic—God could not keep an eye on what Jesus was doing all the time.

He had to let him off the leash.

This put me in the awkward position of being a kind of rat fink and spy, and let me tell you right up front that spying on Jesus brought me to a whole new level of guilty feeling. I mean here I am having to tell on my owner to his dad. God had no business putting me in that position IMHO but there we are. And when I appealed to the universe about it, it just shrugged its shoulders like it so often does and said, “Hey, it’s God. What do you want me to do?” Which was admittedly true but it still pissed me off.