Wednesday, September 16, 2020

“What a wildly wonderful world, God! … All the creatures look expectantly to you to give them their meals on time. You come, and they gather around; you open your hand and they eat from it. If you turned your back, they’d die in a minute— Take back your Spirit and they die, revert to original mud; Send out your Spirit and they spring to life— the whole countryside in bloom and blossom.” (Psalm 104: 24 – 30 The Message Bible) 

                “I just want my dog to live longer.”  This is the title of a fairly recent Blues’ song by Curtis Salgado. “I don’t care where his nose has been; I let him lick my face again and again.”

                This song takes on some added poignancy for Susan and myself as we said good-bye to Kramer, our black and white Australian Shepherd, last Thursday. He was only thirteen but over the last year, old age had  caught up to him very rapidly until finally it incapacitated him completely. He was existing but he was no longer living any quality of life. Susan noted that he had stopped wagging his little nub of a tail quite some time ago. When you lose your wag, life is barely worth living. We made the choice, tough as it was, to put him to sleep.

                We were, at least, the third home for Kramer. We have often wondered what kind of life he had lived in those other places. We don’t think he was abused but neither did it appear that he was adequately loved.  He never learned to play like most dogs. He was neurotic, anxiety-filled, jealous of other dogs, and to be frank, a few apple slices short of a full MacDonald’s Kid Meal. In spite of all that, he was a very handsome dog. Best of all, he was full of abounding, unconditional love and affection for Susan and me. Indeed, he loved all people. At Hallowe’en, he eagerly greeted the kids who came to our door. He’d follow the Post Office delivery man down the front sidewalk. (He also owned an Aussie.) He and Susan had a very special bond and this loss has been especially hard for her.

                Kramer loved pasta. He would slurp down long strands of spaghetti. Even as his appetite began to fail, he would still eat Kraft Dinner. He loved bread, especially corners of sandwiches. If we weren’t careful, he could clean out a loaf of bread from a plastic bag without even tearing a hole in the bag. When he was younger, he thought he was a lap dog, despite his size, and would get up on the couch with us and sit in my lap, demanding a scratch or two or three. One of his favourite spots was to lie on top of Susan's foot,

                And so on it goes – lots of memories, mostly good. We are so thankful that the two dogs finally were getting along again over the last few months. Charlie even seems to miss him too and has been moping around the house this past week.

                I don’t really have any great profound spiritual insight out of all this. But it makes me aware how precious life is and how brief it can be. Our pets give us love and fill our lives with joy and happiness. We can’t imagine a life without our dogs even though we will outlive them. Why we put ourselves through such grief every time is because the love and the companionship and the fun of having these creatures in our lives outweighs the sorrow at the end. Just the same, my greatest wish is that my dog would live longer.

                Someone once said that if dogs don’t go to heaven, then I want to go where they go.

                Amen to that!

 

Dale