Little Dogies

“I’m not gonna leave you alone like orphaned dogie calves. I will come to ya.” (John 14:18, The Gospel of John Cowboy Style)

After walking with Jesus day in and day out for more than three years, it’s hard to imagine what must have gone through the apostles’ minds when they heard Him say, “Where I am going, you cannot come” (John 13:33b). His presence had been their constant—every trail walked, every meal shared, every storm weathered together. Now He was telling them He was leaving.

That kind of news would shake any heart.

But Jesus didn’t leave them without a promise. Right on the heels of that hard word, He reassured them: “I will not leave you as orphans; I will come to you” (John 14:18). In other words, “I’m not ridin’ off and leavin’ you to fend for yourselves.”

It’s worth noticing that Jesus chose the word “orphans.” An orphan is someone left without protection, guidance, or provision—someone forced to face the world alone. In the Hebrew understanding, an orphan was described as fatherless, a picture of deep vulnerability.

That word hits close to home for anyone who’s ever felt abandoned, forgotten, or left to make it on their own.

My cowboy grandfather used to tell stories from his days on trail drives. One story that always stuck with me was about calves born along the way whose mothers were killed, separated, or simply lost in the dust and confusion of the drive. Those little orphaned calves were called dogies in cowboy language.

The word “dogie” even found its way into cowboy songs, like the old trail tune:

“Whoopee ti yi yo, git along little dogies
It’s your misfortune and none of my own
Whoopee ti yi yo, git along little dogies
You know that Wyoming will be your new home.”

But my grandfather made something clear: those dogies were never just left behind. Sometimes another cow would take one in. Other times, the cowboys themselves stepped in—feeding them, guarding them, and making sure they survived the journey.

That’s the picture Jesus is painting for His disciples—and for us.

He’s saying, “You may not see Me the same way anymore, but I’m not abandoning you.” He goes on to explain how that promise would be kept: “I will pray the Father, and He shall give you another Comforter, that He may abide with you forever… I will not leave you comfortless; I will come to you” (John 14:16, 18, KJV).

The word Jesus uses for Comforter is the Greek word parakletos. It means one called alongside—someone who comes near to help, guide, protect, and strengthen. This Comforter is the Holy Spirit, God’s abiding presence with His people.

So Jesus isn’t leaving us like defenseless orphans or forgotten dogies on the open range. Through the Holy Spirit, He is always near—riding with us through hard country, steadying us when we stumble, and reminding us we still belong.

No matter how lonely the trail may feel, we are never truly alone and never forsaken.

As the Lord promised through the prophet Isaiah:
“Then you will call, and the Lord will answer; You will cry, and He will say, ‘Here I am’” (Isaiah 58:9).

And friend, that’s a promise you can stake your life on.

Trail Marker

No matter how long or lonely the trail may feel, Jesus has promised this much: He will not leave us like orphaned dogies on the open range. Through the presence of the Holy Spirit, God rides with us every step of the way—guiding, guarding, and reassuring us that we still belong. When the dust gets thick and the night grows long, His presence is our shelter and our strength.

Campfire Musing

Have there been moments on your trail when you felt forgotten, left on your own, or unsure of the way ahead? How might trusting in God’s nearness—right here, right now—change the way you face those stretches of the journey?

Prayer from the Trail

Lord,
Thank You for not leaving us alone on this wide and sometimes lonely range of life. When we feel like orphaned dogies, unsure and unprotected, remind us that You are near. Thank You for the gift of Your Holy Spirit, who rides alongside us, comforts our hearts, and guides our steps. Help us to trust Your presence when we can’t see the trail clearly and to rest in the promise that You will never forsake us.
We ride on in Your care.
Amen.