I'm a dog person. How can you tell? Well, let's gauge me and cats. Cats love me, I mean find the cat that hates all humans as lower life forms. That cat will adore me. Ironically, all those cats that love to come and find me when I visit friends houses result in me scaring away all other life forms with monstrous sneezes and a horrifically congested nose. My theory is that the cats derive some sort of pleasure from causing such suffering. Just a theory.
Now, enter a dog. Specifically my dog, Gracie. Gracie is, without much ability of anyone to argue the fact, one of the most pathetic canine creatures on Earth. I got her about 2 and 1/2 years ago from a rescue. She had no fur on her hind legs as that is where the puppy mill bound her for two years. She had several litters for the mill. Her entire being would quake and cower whenever anyone approached her. Yet, for some strange reason, I just had to take her home.
For the first few months she and I struggled to find our groove. She ate her way out of a plastic kennel I would put her in while I was at work. She actually ate a hole in it. Somehow she managed to destroy a giant terry cloth robe, a 2x2 foot square pillow, a sweatshirt, and various other items all while in her kennel (with no opening more than 1 inch square!). I replaced the plastic kennel with one that was metal. She figured out how to open it.
After two days of her exiting the kennel after I left and me returning to a happy dog and tidy house, we had a new routine. She ruled the house (i.e. napped) while I was at work and let me think I ruled the house while I was home.
Until that fateful night last spring. I came home from a long day with the teens and just wanted to go to sleep after a short walk with Gracie. It was past 10 and I was beyond exhausted. Apparently Gracie was too. She had destroyed nearly everything! My bedding was gone. Fabric crates in the shelving unit were decimated. The living room looked like a war zone and my bedroom gave the impression of a winter wonderland from all the fluff.
This was the climax of a week of escalating destruction. Gracie had developed severe separation anxiety. This manifested itself in destroying my bedding and eventually her things too. I went through 6 sets of sheets, 2 bed skirts, 2 mattress pads, and a king size comforter before a desperate 2 am call to the vet that night. Thankfully the vet was able to help me out and now my high maintenance little dog gets Prozac (yes, human Prozac).
Now that I am able to come home to a normal dog and a tidy bedroom, I can say that Gracie is the best catechist and spiritual director I know. So in honor of St. Francis, here are a few of the things I think Gracie would say if she could preach to you (or the birds):
- All that is needed to make me happy is to have my human at home all day. If my human could just sit by me, maybe pet me a bit or comb me, I'd be thrilled. I don't need treats or those frilly sweaters the lady down the street makes her dog wear. I just want to lay there in the sun with my human. Don't you think that ultimately all God wants from you is the same thing - to just be?
- When you are totally frustrated and at the end of your leash - sit down. Pulling on it will only cause you to hurt and look ridiculous. Just stop, be still, and listen to what comes.
- When the storms come, know your safe place. Don't be afraid to go and retreat to it.
- Being fearful isn't a way to live. No matter how badly someone may hurt you, most people just want to pet you and play with you.
- Playing games is great. Take time to play. But remember the most important part isn't chasing the ball, it is bringing it back to the one who threw it.
- Protect what you love. Especially from those crafty woodchucks. If you love something, fight for it.
- But if you have to lose something you love, like your most favorite fuzzy toy, let it go. Something new and better may be around the corner.
- Always greet people with a wagging tail and not a noisy bark.
- Show great joy even over the little things like meaty treats and tennis balls.
Yeah, Gracie's pretty wise. And best of all, when I'm done tonight with Theology on Tap, I know she'll be right at the door with her fuzzy bone waiting with a wagging tail.
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