Pet the Dog

I did not want to do it.  I don't hate animals. I’d just rather they all be yours. Thanks to the firm alliance between my husband, and our eldest daughter, and a mild fracture in my resolve, we own a dog.

Okay, so it was more than that. It was arm twisting.

In one of our conversations, my daughter casually threatened mentioned, that when she grew up, she'd have thirty dogs and nineteen cats. Instantly, visions of my child hoarding felines and canines emerged. Under duress of the life to come, I consented to our first dog. Star. That dog ran away.

Thankfully, the dog was found. Unfortunately, it was found by people who tried to get a hefty ransom for its return. Our child was devastated. She blamed herself.  She's that type. We said our mental goodbyes to Star. My husband and daughter’s alliance took a brief hit. He does not negotiate with terrorists.  He offered instead to get her another dog. I consented to a second dog.  Butter. Buttercup is her whole name. The Princess Bride movie may have played a role in the name choice.

"The Alliance and their first dog, Star

My permission to both animals hinged on the condition that I would not be responsible for their care in any way. With this key understanding of our treaty in place, "The Alliance" took care of all dog related duties. Things were fine, until my husband's schedule no longer accommodated caring for a dog. Shortly after, our daughter left for college. That is where this story began to impact my life.

NOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!

The best pets are ones that do not affect me. Judge away. I have a sister who collects everything that moves. They are all her "friends." She loves them and cries over them like they are people. I’d like to think that when compassion for animals is weighed, she’ll make up for what I lack. Still, there was no one else to take care of this dog. I’m not so heartless as to starve anything. I'm an overfeeder. As long as a person or thing is willing to eat, I’m willing to fix all their problems with food. And so I assumed the responsibility of feeding the dog.

Daily, I made the trek to the basement. It's Butter's domain. Where I'm from, animals living with humans is a hard no. Butter is a very smart and very sweet dog. It’s almost like she understood and respected my terms from the beginning. So unlike a cat. Everyday, I’d open the door and let her out to roam the fenced backyard. She’d stretch, go out, and wait for her food. After performing this ritual for a of couple months, I began to get this impression, “Pet the dog.”

I ignored it. Crazy.
As the days went by, this inclination that I should pause to spend time petting the dog grew. You’ve got to be kidding me! Isn’t it bad enough that the treaty has been violated, and I’m left to care for a pet I did not want?
"Pet the dog." The thought persisted. Apparently, it wasn’t going anywhere. I began to pat the dog briefly. That evolved into a few seconds of half-hearted petting her head. Finally, surrender.  And then I saw it. Life.

I had been studying Job. It’s one of those books in the Bible that makes God seem like the eternal bully. That is, until you read it and understand what is really going on. So, I’m reading Job whose “friends” are pretty much arguing and condemning him as he is covered in boils and truly unaware of doing wrong.  Their basic argument was, "look at you. You must be evil. Things like this don’t happen to good, and righteous people." At one point in the story, Job uses a surprising defense to that argument. He basically says, “You’re wrong, and even the animals know you are wrong.” Job uses the animals and their condition of being under our authority as proof that life isn’t fair.  

Suddenly, the prompt to pet the dog made sense. Unlike in the past, I could see beyond human and animal stations. Superior, and inferior. I could see light. That's what life is. It's the light of the living thing.  That moment with our pet spoke of something greater. It revealed a common thread between me and the dog; life originating from another source. As insignificant as I may regard an ant, compared to my might, I am powerless to give even the most insignificant of creatures light.
No matter how small, life can only come from another source of life.

I believe that source is God. "In Him was the light of men."  It truly doesn't matter that we have dominion and authority in the earth. We were given it. That’s an assignment. That assignment could have gone to the horse. The ant. The owl. Leviathan. Behemoth or any other creature, alive or extinct. Those creatures could have easily been responsible for my care.
We can rule over life, but we cannot generate life. Even when we reproduce, we are not creating life. We are passing it on. Our DNA is like live biological stories, passed on from generation to generation. A baby is a new person/life form made alive by another life. I think of it like fire. I can start with one lit candle and pass that candle flame from person to person, but I am not the source of the light, nor will I ever be able to generate it. Can I be a conduit, a conductor? Sure, but I cannot generate it. For me, “pet the dog” became about an acknowledgement of the miraculous quality of life, and the exclusive power and rights of God in that.

It is humbling to come face to face with an animal and realize that in many ways you are as they are. Without control over your own life. Sure, we can provide our needs, but control, I mean the real control of our lives is always in the hands of another.
Health. Death. Disasters. Time. It doesn’t matter what height man ascends to; he will always be bound by these things. They are controlled by another’s hand we don’t always see or understand. It is there nonetheless. Mysterious. Powerful. Faithful.

Last year our dog discovered a rabbit's nest in the yard. She also have some realm of control. Smaller animals are at her will. She ended up killing a baby bunny. She wasn't trying to. Still, I was angry. I hate that might unchecked can easily revert to abuse. I look forward to a world where "superiority" and power doesn't result in the harm or disrespect of life.  It is precious. Why destroy what we cannot create. Respect it.

In the meantime I can only control me. Into my hand has been placed the care of people, land, a dog. With a new understanding of my fragile position, I now look to, and attend to these things with a little more diligence, and a little more compassion than I once did.

I continue to "pet the dog." It has had a profound impact on my humanity.