God’s dog.

When I walk my elderly dog, I often think of the parallel of my relationship with God. I wonder, does my beloved friend feel forsaken when I’m away at work? Does he blame my faltering omnipotence when my tardiness reduces him to the shame of unloading an unbearably full bladder on the forbidden rug? When his deadened hearing and failing eyesight lose track of my footsteps, does he feel lost even though I am still right beside him, silently grateful for his companionship? In his bursts of joyful energy, if he runs right off an unseen curb and stumbles, does he feel betrayed even though I am scrambling to keep apace with his exuberance for life? Or, when he feels my hand scratching his ears and he melts into slack jawed bliss, does any of that matter? Is it maybe enough that the best I ever could do was cherish him?

How can I tell him that there isn’t anything I wouldn’t give so that, when his life light dims and fades, he won’t have to wonder where I have gone, that all the while I will be hugging him with the total force of my being, in a pool of grief, wondering how to bear a world unleavened by his devotional heart?

It’s not that different, really.

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9 thoughts on “God’s dog.

  1. I read this thinking about my 14 year old step-daughter, in the throes of teen rebellion and the wake of her grandparents’ deaths, desperately yelping for the hand of an omnipotent parent-god, and biting when we get close.

    There are a lot of poor, confused creatures raging and whimpering for the approval of the creator and nurturer.

    Hard to read. Thank you.

    • Thanks for your validation. And yours is a helpful reminder to me that it is a difficult conversion to make a compassionate relationship with the need for nurturing and not burden it with the childlike demands of salvation.

  2. The beautiful thing about what I’ll refer to as the passing, (at least as I believe it) is that the maladies of the body leave us, and we are given a sight beyond our physical bodies. A sight that will allow Doo to see the unwavering love you have for him. So take heart my dear friend. Doo knows now, and will know when the time happens just what he means to you and how you feel about him.

  3. Your timing is perfect

    I often think of similar things when I’m away from our dogs.

    We just put down our seven year old german shepherd last week due to liver failure, so a lot of similar thoughts have been running through my head. I was there when he went and he grunted at Jess when she last spoke to him so I know he knows we’re there and I know he knows we’ll follow him to where ever he his when our time comes.

  4. Your timing is perfect

    I often think of similar things when I’m away from our dogs.

    We just put down our seven year old german shepherd last week due to liver failure, so a lot of similar thoughts have been running through my head. I was there when he went and he grunted at Jess when she last spoke to him so I know he knows we’re there and I know he knows we’ll follow him to where ever he his when our time comes.

    Thanks for posting that…

    • Re: Your timing is perfect

      Oh, I am so sorry to hear about your loss and your difficult decision. These fuzzy creatures are so precious. For myself, I wouldn’t be half the person I am today had they not shared my life. Hell, let’s be honest, I probably wouldn’t even have made it.

      May the hole in your heart not heal so much as become a bittersweet reminder of the joy and devotion that your pooch showed you was possible.

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