In the last two weeks, two dear friends as well as my cousin, have had to put their dogs down. It is never easy to lost a beloved pet, but it’s especially difficult on the heels of the year we have just lived through. For most dogs, 2020 was the best year of their lives! They had more quality time with their people in these last twelve months than in all the years prior combined.
Speaking for myself, our dog Ty, was a tremendous source of comfort during those uncertain days. When everything else around me seemed to be falling apart, the constancy of Ty’s presence soothed my soul. He didn’t know what was going on in the world. He wasn’t freaking out. He was soaking in every moment that he got to share with us.
Some of my most serene moments during quarantine were out on our back porch. With a cup of coffee in one hand and something to read in the other, I would settle into my chair and Ty would take his place a few feet in front of me. He would watch over the expanse of our back yard, protecting me from any potential squirrels or rabbits that might cross my path.
When he tired of that, he would meander over to me and wriggle his cold nose under my elbow and wait for me to stroke his back. There was (and is) something so calming about petting a dog. Each stroke of fur seems to dissipate any angst and worry I am carrying.
We have had Ty for over seven years now, and he lets us know he needs to go out by prancing in circles around our dining room table. We let him out the back door and he is free to roam the acre and a half that makes up our backyard at the end of a dead end road. We don’t take him out on a leash. He is not tied to a tree. He knows where he lives, and he is not about to go too far from us. He loves us way too much to take that chance.
When he is done with his business in the backyard, he comes back to the porch and waits for us to let him in. We have tried over the years to train him to bark when he’s ready to come in. We have a terrible habit of getting busy with something else in the house and forgetting he’s out there, only to realize half an hour later, “Yikes! The dog is still outside.”
Now this dog barks every time our mail lady comes or whenever a delivery truck pulls into our driveway. He knows they aren’t his people, so he is protecting us. He also barks whenever one of us comes home. Whether it’s been 15 minutes or eight hours, he is completely thrilled, and revels in letting us know it!
But no matter what, that goofy dog just hasn’t put it together that he should bark when he’s ready to come in. Instead, he waits patiently on the back porch, looking at the door with longing, and trusting that sooner or later, one of us will remember to come open the door for him.
One day not too long ago, I forgot Ty was out there for nearly an hour and a half. (Thank goodness our February cold snap was over!) When it finally occurred to me to go get him, I apologized profusely, stooping down to hug his neck. He just looked at me with all the love he always does, trying to lick my face and letting me know how happy he was to see me.
In that moment, I was so struck by the unshakable faithfulness of this dog. I have thought a lot since we adopted him that he is a tangible reminder for me of God’s presence, and this particular time was almost overwhelming to me. I realized how many parallels there are between a dog’s loyalty and the faithfulness of God.
Ty never barks to come in. He waits and trusts that I will show up. Similarly, God doesn’t barrel His way into my life. He too, waits and trusts that I will show up. Ty never makes me feel guilty when I finally remember to go retrieve him from outside. He is simply overjoyed to see me. Similarly, in the times of my life when I have forgotten God, God is thrilled to welcome me back when I finally wake up and remember where my peace is found.
One of the friends I mentioned at the beginning of this post wrote a living obituary for her dog, and read it to him before the final trip to the vet. Her reflection mentioned that “dog” is “God” spelled backward.
I had never thought of that before, but once it was brought to my attention, it made so much sense to me. Perhaps God put dogs in our lives to teach us what it means to love unconditionally and without measure.
As the familiar phrase goes, how wonderful the world would be if we all actually were the people our dogs think we are!
Rest in peace Toby, Domer, and Buddy. You will never be forgotten.
Ah, my friend, such beautiful words about our faithful friends. I, too, believe God placed dogs (and other animals) on Earth to humble us and to teach us. Thank you for summing up so touchingly what my broken heart can’t seem to articulate since Buddy’s passing.