our sweet boy

"To his dog, every man is Napoleon. Hence the constant popularity of dogs." -A. Huxley

My family dog died this past weekend. A part of us knew this was imminent. Yet admitting this seemed to break our hearts extra wide open. Why does it ache so much? Why can't I stop from crying at random times throughout a day? Why does it feel emptier than normal at the house

 

It's love separated by death. That's why. This is not how it's supposed to be.

We adopted him as a rescue more than 10 years ago.

I'm confident that other life experiences will hurt us as much as the death of a family pet. But I'm also confident that it's uniquely, distinctly desolating to say goodbye to a pet.

My mom often says that there's few things on this earth more symbolic of God's love for his people than how dogs particularly love their owners (I can't speak about cats as pets, or reptiles, or any other animal, so I won't speculate -- I'm sure they also provide love and affection in palpable ways).

How did this dog demonstrate such love for me, and my family, that it'd remind me of God's love?

-He always wanted to be near us. It didn't matter how long it'd been since we last showered, or if we'd brushed our teeth yet that morning. Wherever we were, that's where he wanted to be. God is like that too. We're never somewhere that he's not willing to come to where we are to be with us.

-Our dog's love and affection for us is unconditional, as is God's love. It's rare in life to know a love that unconditional that we can trust is unconditional. No second-guessing. No games.

-He saw the best in me, and in us. We didn't need to earn his love, or attain any status, to earn his love. It was there, and it stayed.

-The playfulness. We too often undersell the playfulness of God. 

A friends once told me of a time, in high school, when she contemplated some serious self-harm. One night, she got stuck in a devolving, self-loathing mental/emotional spiral. She began considering how she could hurt herself, and when to do it.

 

Who intervened?

 

The family dog -- bounding into her bedroom with the grace of a dump truck to lick her face, bother her for pets, climb into her lap. The dog broke through the spell of shame. She broke free of the spiral.

Dogs know when we ache. They may not be able to pay off a credit card, or recite math equations, or change a tire, but they are keen students of their pack.

A question I plan to ask God someday: why is the span of a pet's life is so truncated compared to our lives? It cleaves me in two to have to let go of this companion. Why do they have to age so fast? I'd gladly take the pain of this with the love we knew for all these years. But wow, the pain screams.

 

Also: do I believe all dogs go to heaven? 

 

I'll put it this way: I believe in the resurrection of the dead, and of God "making all things new" (Revelation 21), and that would not just be humans, but all creation. The bonds we form with these creatures are a gift from God. It's unfathomable that God would withdraw this gift forever. I look forward to playing with this special dog, my sweet boy again. I love him so.