Dogs And God

Good morning…

I had not talked to my friend from Minnesota since the beginning of the summer, so we had a lot of catching up to do. As we shared a phone call this week, I got teary as I told her about putting our dog, Tate, to sleep in June. Tears surprisingly still flowed as I heard myself say how much I missed Tate’s calm, gentle presence in our home. A fluffy golden mix, Tate was a huge source of unconditional love. We still enjoy our thirteen pound, lap-sitting twelve year old dog, Gracie, but I have always loved having two dogs, a big and a little, since dogs share love so differently. I talked about how Tate’s big, soft body felt like God wearing fur and walking around our home with a comforting presence.

“I spent the summer mourning the loss of Tate’s constant company in my daily life,” I reflected.

Later in the conversation, I told her that two weeks ago we brought home our new, eight week old puppy, Cami. (Nine years ago, we had gotten Tate at eight weeks old also.) I unpacked with my friend the joys and the challenges of learning the regular rhythms of a needy newborn pup.

“I am struck by your grief work around Tate,” she replied. “Something important died. Something precious and living died. Giving yourself time to honor the love that Tate was to you, before welcoming Cami into your home, what a beautiful metaphor for the faithful companionship of God, ending well before beginning anew.”

Then, the day after our phone call, one of the photos I shared in yesterday’s blog spurred me to create a group family text.

“Good morning, everyone,” I wrote. Sharing the first photo below, I texted, “This was Cami yesterday. I know there is a very similar photo of Tate when she was a new pup. Can anyone find that photo of Tate from nine years ago?”

Before long, the second photo below appeared in our text string.