The Most Remarkable Thing
The first dog I remember was a medium-sized mutt my mom had picked up from the pound. Her name was Goldie and there is not much more I could say about her. Then there was Heidi, a German Shepherd pup my dad had been paid for in exchange for working on his friend’s truck. I grew up, got married, joined the military, and moved to Greece, whereupon we got a peach-colored, Greek chicken eating Irish Setter sort of thing. About the time the Greeks realized that the military would pay up to one thousand dollars for every Greek chicken an American Dog ate, there was an epidemic of chicken-eating dogs! I got rid of that dog, right quick.
Years later, now a mother of three, I realized that the kids needed a dog, because dogs and kids are like peanut butter and jelly, they just go together. Like my mother before me, I went to the pound and picked up a dog, a Jack Russel. The kids would throw the ball in the house, break things, tear sheets up for forts and dog beds, slobber, and of course the crunch of dog kibbles under your feet in the middle of night as you make your way to the bathroom. It’s a chaotic symphony of barking, giggling and inexplicable joy. After the Jack Russel passed, there was Shelby, the Dachshund, and then a years-long break of dog-less-ness.
Then one day, for some inexplicable reason, for the very first time ever in my life, I got my very own dog, a black and brown McNabb, that’s a rough and tumble cattle dog. Sallie was her name, wicked smart and fast as a rocket. Having her was almost like I had never had a dog in my life ever! She was a furry sunshine machine that never ran out of batteries. From her wagging, stubby tail, to her boundless energy, she had a contagious zest for life that energized everyone. She greeted me as if I was the most important person in the world, even if I was only gone for a few minutes. Her antics kept everyone in stiches and amazed. Her dog eyes looked at me as if to say, “I know what you are thinking!” For instance, while driving one day, this person jay walks right in front of my car! Sallie looked at me the same time I look over at her as if to say, “stupid!” She knew where every burger joint in town was and placed her paw on my hand, let out a hungry whimper and a sigh if I drove past.
Bike rides were required for a dog of this speed. Peddling behind her as she ran at breakneck speed, it made her feel like a primordial pooch, she was free! Like all the other dogs, Sallie is gone now, but unlike the other dogs, her absence has given me a grief I have never known before.
What makes it different? It’s the relationship I realized, now with distractions of work and kids gone, the individual relationship with this dog, could flourish, and it did. In Jordan Peterson's final chapter of 12 Rules for Life: An Antidote to Chaos, he recommends the following prescription: Rule 12: Pet a cat (or a dog) when you encounter one on the street. Be grateful for the good things in a world where suffering can seem deafening. Be alert to the unexpected beauty of life.
My girlfriend tells me that the Hebrew word for dog is kelev, which means, Like the Heart. Maybe, perhaps that is why God spelled backwards is dog. Maybe perhaps that is what God is looking for in each of us…..that connection with HIS heart, a relationship with us.