God loves Dogs

THERE IS A LIST….

There is a tremendously long list of people, organizations, clubs, some small countries, and a few medium size countries I would surrender to oblivion to get my dogs back. I had to put Betty and June down unexpectedly in the same week, within a year of my wife’s death. I thought they would be the last dogs I ever owned. God loves dogs and so, apparently do I.

June, the younger by two years but in the worst health, had to go first. She made eight dogs I have owned; seven I have had the privilege of escorting off the planet. Betty went four days later. Yeah, it was a bad week.

     Dogs are unique….

Dogs are unique among animals. Anything canine falls here. That would include wolves. Whales would probably be such an animal, along with porpoises and dolphins. But they can’t snuggle next to you on the floor or in bed or alert you when the mail comes. You look into a dog’s eyes and if you can, imagine the loving eyes of the God of the Universe. That is what you see when you look in the eyes of a dog.

If you are reading this, you probably didn’t make the list listed in paragraph one, so don’t worry. In this season of life, there just should be cool beverages and foot rubs for all of us, but that isn’t reality. The reality is hard things happen. We live on a rock which has been infected and death, sometimes an unbelievably bad death, is a norm.

I decided a long time ago, I want to be the man my dogs think I am. They want to be near me, somehow, they listen to my conversations with myself and with them and they look at me like they know what the shit I am saying. They check on me in the Jacuzzi, Betty jumping up with her front paws on the edge to look at me, lick my face, basically saying ‘okay, you’re alive. If you don’t mind, I’m going to go find a cat poo nugget to eat.’

      Sometimes, I don’t hear what they hear.

Sometimes I don’t hear what June hears, which is usually not even on the street yet, barking once then looking over her shoulder at me with eyes which simply said ‘wait for it. It will be here in a minute.’

They met me at the door, and sent me off every day, only to return to them, again, standing at the door. Who does that? Who greets us every day, checks on us every moment, listens to every word we say, snuggles with us to keep us warm, or comforts us when we are sad?

This puts me in a quandary.

In the first paragraph, I set the conditions to get my dogs back. I could actually, in this frame of mind I sometimes exist in, do so and still go to lunch, not thinking twice about the trade of whole civilizations for two dogs. But I can’t. No matter how much I want to, I really can’t wish it to happen.

My damn dogs would be disappointed in me.

First of all, they don’t want to come back. Not where they are. Secondly, they now know, or maybe always knew, The Plan. The man my dogs thought I am would not do such a thing.

Damn it.

     So, I escorted….

So, I escorted #8 and #9 from this life. It is a huge honor, and I have discovered, it always has been. Now, I must use what my dogs taught me and apply it to the world. Because, I am sure, they were put here to model the Dad of this Universe. There is something between a dog and God and eventually dog and man, which is, I think, God’s way of giving me—you, some relevant and tangible reminder He is present and here. My dogs want me to be the man they know me to be.  I need to listen to you, guard your heart and body and family, ask you if you are okay, play with you, snuggle up close when you are sad or grieving, forgive you when you yell, and occasionally lick your face, metaphorically speaking.

     …I answered my own doubt….

Since those two left, and after a few months of truly grieving, I answered my own doubt and got two more dogs, Bella and Bob. I would really need two because one dog has to have a friend. God, I did not want to do this again. But maybe I need more lessons. Apparently if I have a list of small countries I would exchange for my dogs, I have issues with mercy and liking people I still need to work on. I was thinking about fish—a big tank with fish. They die, you have a burial at sea in the bathroom toilet. But they can’t lick your face when you’re sad or make you laugh when they eat cat nuggets.

Maybe a time out for a while. Maybe some rescue dogs missing legs or eyes or ears? I could teach them how to walk on two legs, and they could teach me everything else. But I decided to go with a pair who were together since they were pups, and their owner was going to adopt them out separately. A chocolate lab and a mastiff. Go big or go home, I say. They have been with me for several years now. Maybe they will be the last dogs I ever own.

Maybe not.

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