The Death of a Dog

It’s been over 25 years and I still feel the weight of when I carried her in a large trash bag to bury in the back yard. Being a pastor I pretty much grieved alone because a pastor in a rural community should not grieve deeply over a pet. Eleven years of routines of a man and a dog are not buried easily. The sound of keys and doors opening, key words, the bounce of a tennis ball and a dog food can opening all form a rhythm in life easy to understand. On some slow afternoons, the dog eyes look into a man's eyes and the pleasure of just feeling understood is enough. Of course we know dogs are dogs and no more, but I have had dreams of seeing her running toward me all bright, gold and alive forever. With people we build great intricate but flimsy bridges with words and memories. But we say, “ I feel a little lonely today” to a dog and we get the same response as if we said, “Let’s take a hike.” But then what of the soft ears, the nose waking us up and the explosion of greetings each time we come home? As the Russian poet, Yevtushenko, once wrote:

You remember dog that a woman once lived here…She has gone.
You settle quickly. There will be no other women here.
My splendid dog, so good at everything:
What a pity it is you don’t drink.

Adam named the animals and loved them and suddenly felt alone. Despite the pure joy of the lovely creatures, there is that, “What a pity you don’t drink” There is that something more to understand, something more to say and to hear deeply. There is no animal that can complete the circle of speaking and hearing. Where there is a home where the dog is the center of love, it is because the hearts have closed. Adam went on hoping for that something more and saw Eve. The glory of speaking and listening and knowing and being known began to blaze in his heart. She was almost just like him and that “almost” was deep and wonderful. The slight difference was more wonderful. And yet, as deep as relationships are between lovers, friends, fathers and sons, there is something not quite enough. There is a  “what a pity” with the deepest of human relationships, like a dropped stone that never reaches the bottom of a well. Our hearts yearn for something more. As the eyes of a dog look up to his master, my eyes look up the Lord.

Over 25 years have past and maybe I loved the dog too much. "Yeller" attended most of my classes at the University of Virginia and Yale Divinity School where she received a diploma, Titulumque Canem Fidelem Admisimus. To this day, Yeller is the only dog to have a Yale diploma. She hitched out west with me, taught school with me in Arizona and New Orleans, and pastored with me in Allentown, New Jersey, where she is buried. Maybe I loved her too much, but love is like a point on the trail when you decide to go back or go on. It can awaken the heart to long to love more and forever, or the heart can say, “That’s it. No more.” So in times when we hurt from the end of whatever relationship, we can say, “There must be more. I am longing for more and forevermore.” We all have been hurt, burned, jilted and forgotten in different degrees but how we respond is where grace comes in.

The heart can expand and believe that there is someone quiet behind the stars and speaking in the scars.  I think He is coming with my dog.

 

By Andrew McMillan