I WANT TO BE AN OSCAR (THE DOG, NOT THE TROPHY)

I have previously written about the exploits of Sir Ernest Shackleton; the famous British explorer of Antarctica. It seems in his quest to be the first, he came within 97 miles of the geographical South Pole. However, it has been said that “close is only good enough in grenades and nuclear war.” He was a very disappointed fellow, I think.

     The man was a visionary, but he neglected to do the two major things that would surely have won the day. Rather than dogs, he took ponies. Rather than skis, he decided on “old fashioned shoe leather.” You see, he had never taken the time to adapt himself, and his team to the use of such new measures, and he was irrevocably taken up with the mindset of the nineteenth century, though that century was waning in favor of the twentieth.

     Yes, Sir Ernest was slow to adapt. But he was no fool. For a few short years later, during “the war to end all wars,” he brought dogs with him to his next Antarctic exploit. The South Pole had already been conquered at this point, though not by him, and he was desperate to do something notable.

     Having sent two ships out, one a ship of exploration and one a ship of supply, he determined to complete a Trans-Antarctic expedition. Sadly, he failed when his main vessel was enclosed by ice floes, and crushed by the immense pressure of the stuff.

     Meanwhile, on the other side of the icy continent, a pitiful group of men and dogs were laying out food depots; in expectation of Shackleton’s march towards his destiny.

     They were emaciated, having marched hundreds of miles towards the South Pole, their only aim to leave sporadic rations in the snow for what would be the team of explorers. And like so many before, these poor men were suffering the effects of scurvy; a potentially-fatal result of the lack of Vitamin C.

     The team which deposited food for others had run out of food for themselves. Not deterred, they continued to move towards their original campsite, and all the food they would eat or need. Blizzards raging around them, extreme privation, snow blindness; at times ferrying one of their dying mates on a sledge.

      And the dogs. Oh, the dogs. While the men ate the last shreds of penguin, and seal which they had shot, the dogs were without food for two days. So bitterly cold and so hungry they were.

     Even dogs complain. They yelped pleadingly to be fed, to rest, or to plain give up; even as each tread of their paws brought them closer to food. Some like Con and Towser were such good-natured animals, so desirous to please their masters. But enough was enough, and hope was waning; with every mile they trod.

     But with so many such stories, (and this one is no exception,) salvation came from an unexpected source. 

     For you see, there was one old, bad-natured brute named Oscar. He incessantly bothered and berated the rest of the pack. More often than not, the men regretted having the beast with them, (and may have been prone to “put him out of his misery,” except the mission so desperately required a minimum number of dogs).

     However, the surly old dog finally came into his own. For when the other dogs seemed on the verge of giving up, for the wind and cold and hunger, something magical happened.

    “Oscar just lowered his massive head, and pulled as he never did when things were going well. He even, at times, got a bit of a run on the sledge and tried to bite the heels of the dog ahead to make him work… It seemed to us that Oscar was aware that we were looking for something that would give him a full meal once more.” (Pg. 484, “Shackleton”)

     Well my friends, I don't know about you, but stuff like this makes me want to shout, "Hallelujah!" I can get excited about tales like this one.

    Oh, you may say, “He was just a dumb animal.” And granted, he was. But if a dumb animal can rise to the task, the way Oscar rose to his task, where does that you and me?

    I am reminded of the brevity of life, and the strong responsibility that is ours, as servants of The Most High God. I will not be content to whine, or to just lay down when the going gets tough.

    I want to be “an Oscar.” I want to pull with all my might; hope against hope that anything can be accomplished. If need be, I plan to “bite the heels of the dogs ahead of me;” to encourage them that there’s a work to be done, and a Christ to be served.

     “Seeing how we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us strip off everything that hinders us, and the sin that so easily entangles us, and let us run with patience the race that God has set before us.” (Hebrews 12:1, KJV)


By William McDonald, PhD. From "Animal Stories." Copyright 2017.

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