The keeper of the dog-pound looked up into a hot anxious face.
“Say, Mister, your catcher just got my dog! And he's a—he's a swell dog! He's not a stray or anything.” “Well, say! You sure made time, I don't think the catcher's even in from his round. Oh, guess that's him now!” and walking to a rear door the keeper and Jim were just in time to see several dogs being scooted into a pen from the catcher's truck.
“There he is-that one!” cried Jim, and the keeper eyed a small frightened dog scurrying into a corner.
“Well, son, I guess the trouble is that he has no license; or has he?”
Jim's head hung as he had to shake it “no.”
“And rules are rules,” the keeper continued, “he'll have to have one before we let him out.”
Jim fingered two quarters hopefully in his pocket. “How much does one cost?”
“A dollar and a half for a dog like yours.”
“I've only got fifty cents,” Jim said with a troubled voice. Then with a sudden thought, “Say, do you have any work I could do for you to earn some more?”
“Sorry,” the man replied. “You might try the corner store though, you never can tell but what they could use you,” and turning he left the boy.
Mid-afternoon a tired but eager Jim reappeared and placed a dollar and a half in the keeper's hand. As the gate to the dog pen was opened Jim hardly had time to call, “Spot!” before that barking, joyous dog was in his arms.
Half-way home Jim stopped and sat on the curb a minute to examine Spot's shiny new license. “Spot,” he said to the dog, thinking aloud, “you're doubly mine now! Dad gave you to me when you were just a pup, and now I had to buy you back from the pound. You're twice mine!”
Our loving Savior went to the cross of Calvary and there died a death of shame and cruel pain. That was the price He had to give to “buy us back” from sin and Satan. Now those of us who love Him and have accepted Him as our Savior can say we are twice His! His because He created us and gave us life, and His because He has bought us with His own precious blood.
Boys and girls, are you “twice His”?