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Every now and then, something jars my memory, and I’m lost in grief all over again. I’m working on sorting through paperwork at my desk, and the sound of my neighbor’s big dog barking triggers the phantom sound of my sweet Dalmatian barking at the bunnies outside. I hear the sound echo in my ears. For a split second, I thought he was still here.
I miss you, sweet doggy boy.
Today was one of those days when the sun seemed too bright. The bird songs outside my window were irritating, and I felt a strong inclination to drop kick the bunnies into next week when I discovered — again — that they had resumed setting up housekeeping right underneath the strawberry patch. Piano lessons today were sour, not sweet, as I stumbled and fretted over Amazing Grace. I feel guilty that my husband still has a job and we have a house compared to those who don’t, I want to help the poor but don’t know how, and I’m madder than a wet hen that my attempts to be self-sufficient failed when last night’s freeze totally wiped out the sweetly green seedlings in our garden . I spied my old dog’s collar tucked away in our closet and lost it as I caught a whiff of his Shiner smell. I’m out of trash bags and paper towels, desperately need a haircut, and my husband has been gone on a business trip since Saturday. (cue the violin, please)
Whine, whine, whine, right?
I actually started a post earlier today that compared the state of my heavy heart with King David’s in Psalm 68, but the LORD must have had mercy on me and allowed the computer to freeze up and erase my 650 words before I had a chance to post them. David was a King who had real enemies pursuing him, ridiculing him, gunning for him…um, quite a bit more than the silly stuff on my plate.
A glimmer of sunshine kept the darkness at bay, though. That’s one of the blessings of my inheritance with the Lord. I might be in a funk, but He is still there, still the same, steady rock. So as I wallered in self pity today, the old hymn, It is Well With My Soul kept springing to mind, in between my fusty ruminations. I have only the Holy Spirit to thank for that! So tonight I did a search on YouTube and found a version of the song that I absolutely love by The Newsboys!
If you are going through a rough patch and are a child of THE King, drink in this song and let its truths fill your soul.
Man! After listening to that reminder, it really IS well with my soul, thanks to Jesus…(cue the sunshine, bird songs, and bunnies, please!)
Wagging tail, doggy smiles.
From the time you were a puppy,
I couldn’t believe you were mine.
Sharing my good books…
Snarfing up my crumbs…
What a joy it was to watch you shine.
From a tiny little squeak
To a big boy woof -
No one more surprised than you
At the big dog ruff
Behind your song.
A flat out run your only speed
Around and around you’d
Circle the back yard tree,
Following a ball.
Together we danced a goofy shuffle
While I tried to dodge
Your sloppy wet snuffles –
But somehow you always got
In at least one smack on my chin.
Twelve years of running
Twelve years of mooching
Is a very long time for
A Dalmatian with as much exuberance as you.
Though your back hurt so much
You never gave up
Even at the end, when you could barely walk
You still loved me so
And followed me room to room, no matter the cost.
So loyal, so faithful…I miss you, sweet boy.
Today we picked up your ashes
In a tiny little box…
Surely too small to contain
The overjoyed life that
Was you.
But those ashes aren’t YOU.
They can’t give me kisses
Or fetch me the newspaper
Or grumble at me for fussing
When you scavenge paper towels out of the trash.
They can’t chase a ball
Or climb up in my lap
Or slurp up the eggs I drop
On the kitchen floor.
The dog you once were
Is buried deep in my heart
My memories are full -
My tears tear me apart.
Many say there will be
No pets in heaven
But I am certain
You are there.
The God of Creation made you
Just as sure as he made me
And he’s promised many rooms
In his house –
So wait for me there in my room,
Climb up on the foot of the bed.
Snuggle in a blanket and
Listen for my steps.
Play ball. Sleep by the fire.
Eat lots of treats,
And know, my sweet boy –
One day I will once again
Look into your liquid chocolate eyes
Scratch behind your silky spotted ears
And hug your great solid body.
Just as you so loyally watched over the house for us here,
Watch over God’s house for us while
We’re apart!
We’ll be remembering you every day
Waiting eagerly ’till it’s time to once again say –
Where’s your ball?
There is a distinct connection between the heart and the body. No, not the mechanical connection between the muscle that pumps life giving blood to the rest of the body, although that is a definite. Our bodies house our souls while we are on earth. And when something goes awry with the soul, the body follows.
At this moment I do not have a cold. But my body feels sick. I am not physically sick — just got a clean bill of health in my annual physical yesterday — yet I have that “about to get a cold” achy feeling from the top of my head right down to my toes. It’s followed me ever since last week, and it has everything to do with my grief at losing Shiner.
The feelings have been so intense that you could say I am having a crisis of faith. After stubbornly yelling at God in my head for awhile because he allows us free choice…which led to sin…which led to death due to old age and other means…and yelling at him because he did not give dogs a life span anywhere near that of those in their human “packs,”…and after yelling at him for not letting dogs instead of parrots live at least 80 years or so…
…I finally opened my Bible. It’s a good thing God is a tough guy. He can handle my anger. He can handle my grief.
So I began flipping through the gospel of Mark. Mark reminds me of a newspaper. It presents the facts. I needed a good refresher on the facts because I was drowning in so much sorrow that I’d forgotten all about Jesus. It’s not all hunky dory between God and me yet. I’m still mad. This time as I read, I kept having questions run through my head…and, here’s the key — I wrote them in the margins of my Bible. The questioning is not so unusual — I always have questions scrolling through my brain. Usually I push those that are about God and Christ to the back burner because if I examine them too closely, something bad might happen. Maybe I’ll turn into a frog. Or maybe I’ll decide that faith is useless and Christ was just a man who read up on all those Old Testament prophesies and then somehow arranged his life to fit them. Okay, yea, it’s probably more likely that I’d turn into a frog before I’d conclude that one person could somehow make over 300 prophesies come true in his life. The unusual part is that I gave voice to my questions.
I still don’t have answers. But the fact that I wrote them down means that I’ll be looking for them. And Jesus himself says that those who seek will find.
Since I need to shut off the bleeding, I need to focus my writing on something other than Shiner, at least for now. For a little while, I’ll explore some of my questions. I hope and pray they don’t harm you or your faith in any way. Please understand that, for the first time since I became saved as a little girl, I think I might have a glimmer of what it felt like when Jacob wrestled with God. I’m wrestling. I’m fighting the fight. I’m trying to understand some things — clearly — that have buzzed around in the back of my brain for a long time. It’s not that I don’t believe — it’s that I need to remind myself why I believe. Does that make sense? For example, if I have faith in Jesus to bring me comfort, why am I not feeling comforted? If I have faith in Jesus to heal me of my anxiety, why am I still anxious? Many of my questions have to do with my own faith. Maybe this is what “working out your faith” really means. Wrestling.
My questions today come from a passage in Mark 8. Here’s the passage in question:
31 Then Jesus began to tell them that the Son of Man[c] must suffer many terrible things and be rejected by the elders, the leading priests, and the teachers of religious law. He would be killed, but three days later he would rise from the dead. 32 As he talked about this openly with his disciples, Peter took him aside and began to reprimand him for saying such things.[d]
33 Jesus turned around and looked at his disciples, then reprimanded Peter. “Get away from me, Satan!” he said. “You are seeing things merely from a human point of view, not from God’s.”
Why did Jesus call Peter Satan?
I’ll be brutally honest here. Something inside me smarts at Jesus’ rebuff of Peter. I can’t think of a WORSE name for someone to call me. The fact that JESUS did it speaks volumes. Was he just trying to get Peter’s attention? Sort of like I use my daughter’s full name when she’s in trouble? Or was it because Peter was unknowingly doing Satan’s bidding by trying to prevent Jesus from doing the task the Lord had already set before him? Or was it because at that moment Peter was Satan? The only way I know of to dig deeper here is to look at the original text. I don’t know Greek, but the website at Blue Letter Bible has a great concordance that allows you to get the original wording.
The first thing I learn is that when Jesus turned at looked at the disciples, he didn’t just look. He eidon them. The word can mean to perceive, to discern. To look at in order to examine. This means that when Jesus looked at his disciples, he was likely reading their minds. He knew what they were thinking. And they were all thinking that they didn’t want their messiah to be killed. So Peter, the spokesperson, took Jesus aside and began to reprimand him.
Has anyone under your authority reprimanded you? It stings, doesn’t it? I remember a first grade student I had who was a bona fide cowboy. On picture day, he brought in his hat. Of course he couldn’t wear it inside the classroom, so he handed it to me to put back on the counter. It’s sufficient to say that I was a complete ignoramus in all things cowboy, including hats. I didn’t know you weren’t supposed to sit the hat down on its brim! The glare and instruction that six year old cowboy gave me makes me squirm even today!
But unlike me, Jesus was not an ignoramus in all things God. He was God’s son, and he had a job to do. When he looked at Peter, he saw the thoughts running through his mind. Peter was probably thinking the same thing I would have thought –
you mean to tell me that this person I’ve been following around, the One who can raise the dead and feed thousands with just a few loaves of bread…the One who can calm the seas with a word from his mouth…who can restore the sight to the blind and drive out demons…is going to DIE? Inconceivable!
What about Jesus using the actual word…Satan…? The word Jesus used was Satanas. It is a word used for two purposes: it is the name given to the prince of evil…it is also a name given to a Satan-like man. That brings up another question. What’s a Satan-like man? It’s one who is adversarial to God. Peter’s rebuke to Jesus was clearly, then, adversarial to God’s ultimate plan of redemption. Peter was rebelling because the plan Jesus had just revealed to him was not the one he had expected.
It makes me wonder: would Jesus have had any disciples if he had revealed God’s ultimate plan at the outset of his ministry? Probably not. This is just a reminder that God’s timing is perfect. Ours is not.
In my mind, Peter was acting perfectly human in his dismay. Yet Jesus rebuked him in the harshest way possible. He told him that he was only looking at life from a human perspective. Which brings me to my next question:
How is it possible for a human to see things from God’s point of view?
This, I don’t know. Perhaps Jesus was implying that Peter, a mere human, needed to trust Him, the Son of God, the Messiah, in ALL things, even in those that appear, to the human eye, to be ludicrous. I struggle with this concept over and over. I am trapped by my human perception of life. As I mope around this house, feeling tears well up at the sight of a outdoor couch cushion that has seen much better days because my Shiner used to sleep so happily on it, I have a distinctly human perception of life. Peter’s focus was on the here-and-now reality. It was not on heaven.
That pretty much describes me even before this doggy death experience. How does a person go around focusing on the things of God? What are the things of God? The Blue Letter Bible doesn’t really spell it out for me this time. The word used is theos, and it means “the things of God…His counsels, interests, things due him.”
My best guess is that Jesus was telling Peter — Dude. Have you forgotten Who I Am? Get your mind off the things you THINK you know about (death) and back on Me (life.)
I’m going to be chewing over “the things of God” for awhile…not sure I’ll ever get that one…at least on this side of heaven. I don’t even know if I’m supposed to be able to see things from God’s point of view. Wouldn’t that be wrong? I’m just a person. I probably couldn’t bear to see even a millionth of what God sees. So why did Peter get in such trouble when he was only doing what came naturally? Are we supposed to be able to think more like Jesus (God) the closer we come to him? If we don’t think like Him, does that mean we aren’t really saved? If Peter, who was physically right there, touching Christ, could not see things from a godly perspective, how could I do that thousands of years after He walked the earth?
I think this is where the Holy Spirit comes in. And that opens a whole other set of questions that I’ll have to get to in another post.
For now, I’m wrestling with questions. And with depression. But the bright sunshine today and the promise of a spring-like afternoon brings a smile to my face. Hopefully the warm sunshine will relieve some of the pain in my body and my heart.
As sweet as my Dalmatian was, no one told me before we got him that Dals shed. A lot. I’m sure we’ll be finding hair in obscure places two years from now. I haven’t emptied his water bowl yet because he drank from it on Saturday before we said goodbye, and there are little Shiner hairs floating on the surface. Soon I’ll take care of it. But not today.
My husband and my daughter are doing really well. Both of them are dwelling on the fact that he’s no longer suffering. I guess I am the one who is walking around moping all the time, dwelling on the empty places of my heart. I was the last one to see how much he was suffering because I didn’t want to see it. I didn’t want to face that I’d have to tell him goodbye.
So today I’ll think about our first hello.
My niece and nephew had just left after a week-long visit. The house seemed so empty and quiet. As we drove back from the store, we saw a sign in a neighbor’s yard: Dalmatian Puppies For Sale.
Oh, let’s just look!”
I said, and my pleading baby blues convinced my husband to stop the car. I had always been interested in Dalmatians. I had met one at my father-in-laws home years previous. As a first grade teacher, my students were in the throes of “Dalmatian Love” because Disney’s 101 Dalmatians had recently been released.
We walked into the house. The owners were keeping the puppies in the laundry room, but they let them all out to meet us. A jumble of spots rushed all over the place, and I feel instantly in love with their beautiful faces. Dalmatian puppies are unlike any other breed of puppies I’ve ever seen — they are the wiggliest, happiest pups and possess enough kinetic energy to power a small city! Most of the puppies we saw interacted with each other…rolling, tumbling, cartwheeling. But one of them came and sat directly on my husband’s foot. His tail wagging joyfully, this dog had just “picked” us. Naturally, we walked in to “just look” and walked out new puppy owners. Coincidentally, this was the day before Father’s Day!
From that moment on, my husband and I wore black and other dark colors at our own peril! We should have bought stock in the lint-roller company…but it was all worth it. Now that he’s gone, I’ll smile every time I pull on the color black. It will remind me of my sweet friend.
(by the way, today’s shirt has…you guessed it…Shiner hairs!….embedded in some of the fibers. I wear them with love.)
Well, it’s Monday morning, and I’m sitting here trying to figure out how to live normally without my best friend. I can barely stand to sit at the computer because he used to curl up at my feet. I can barely stand to walk into our bathroom because that’s where he slept at night, and, at the end, where we had to confine him. I can barely stand to cook…or put dirty dishes in the dishwasher…or watch a movie with my family…or, let’s get real — I can barely stand to breathe sometimes.
Having said all that, I am okay. Not great. Not anywhere near approaching “normal” enthusiastic self — but time does march on.
My husband and I are having what we call “moments.” I’ll be doing just fine, when all of a sudden I see his food bowl that we can’t bear to put up yet, and then the tears flow. There are moments when the reality — he’s NOT coming back, EVER (on this earth) — hits me like a semi-truck. At those times I feel like I did when I took a nose-dive on the tennis court — it feels like the breath has been knocked out of me. The in-between times, we’re just living life, although sometimes a bit differently.
- Today I’m going to move my computer desk to a different area of the house. I haven’t quite decided where to put it, but I need to change its location. I need a new spot for it so I can create new memories with my other sweet doggy friend.
- I got a new purse. Yes, it’s irrational — I couldn’t bear to look at the purse I was carrying when we went to the vet on Saturday. It was an old purse I’d had for about five years and was in the “backpack” style. Shiner unzipped that purse and stuck his head in it looking for gum, candy, mints, cough drops, dollar bills, even chapstick so many times. So I got a new purse and put up the old one. I’m going to save it because in a strange way it reminds me of him.
I saved the sweats I had on when we took him to the vet. I hugged him tight and kissed his sweet forehead before bolting out of the room. I couldn’t stay…but my sweet husband was with him to the end. He told me that when they gave him the sedative to make him sleepy, he laid down on the blanket and sighed a deep, restful, contented sigh. He was happy, and the sedative made his pain go away. My husband said he hadn’t realized how much pain he was in until he saw his little face relax. After they administered the sedative, they gave him the dose of barbituates that took him home to the Lord. He died at 11:17 am. I know this because, even though I was sitting outside in the truck, I felt it. I can’t explain it. But all of a sudden I felt him, and my daughter’s words came back to me:
Home is where Shiner is.”
Home — our heavenly home — is indeed where Shiner is. He’s chasing tennis balls in fields of gold. Oh, how he used to run like the wind! Now he can do that again.
Hear this: he was dying anyway. He was losing weight at an alarming rate; I doubt he would have made it through another month. I’ve come to understand that his bowel incontinence was God’s way of letting me know that it was time to let him go. If it weren’t for that, we would have kept him going. To what end? To pain and suffering? That last morning the mess was so monumental that my daughter — ever the comedian — called it “The Grand Finale.” My sweet doggy didn’t need to keep living that way. He was embarrassed. But my husband cleaned him a little outside and then brought him in to take a very long, warm shower, which he liked very much. I think the warm water felt wonderful to his aching bones.
My only regret is I wish there was some way to KNOW what it was that was slowly eating away at his insides. Cancer? Organ failure? We’ll never know. But I can rest in knowing that it doesn’t matter because now the Lord, the one who created him in the first place, is now his caretaker. And what a life that must be!
I may or may not take a break from blogging and facebooking for awhile. There is a giant empty space in my heart, and I don’t want to bore or depress you. Just know that the Lord is near. Know that your prayers made a huge difference and gave us the backbone to do what we had to do. They are what bring us peace in between the moments of grief. I appreciate them, and you, more than you know. (on the other hand, writing is a release. So you may see more posts than usual! I haven’t felt my way yet through this new fog that is enveloping my life.)
I’ll end on a happy note. Our other doggy is a constant comfort. She is polar opposite to Shiner’s food-gobbling, ball chasing, alpha-dog self. Whereas we could set the clock by Shiner’s “please feed me NOW” behavior at precisely 7am and 5pm, Lacee is more nonchalant about food. What she craves is lovin! I’m afraid during the last month or two when Shiner took up so much of our time that she felt a bit left out. Now I can make it up to her and give her all the snugglin she needs. I think she knows that he isn’t coming back. Yesterday she spent some time sniffing all over the bathroom floor and rubbing all over the coat my husband wore when we took Shiner in to the vet for the last time. So we’re all giving each other some hugs and some grace. And the Lord is giving us wonderful memories that come up at the perfect times to lift us out of our foggy moments.
This morning the sun is peeking through the clouds, bathing the back yard in a sheen of gold. You are curled up asleep on the outdoor couch — and you just got up twenty minutes ago! But you had a very hard night, didn’t you sweetie? I could hear you toss and turn and rip through the yucky cover I taped over your bed all night long. My goodness, you made a mess! This morning we are both beat!
You look so angelic lying there. I view this golden cast to the sun as a gift from God. Remember, I told you about Him? Well, this light is nothing compared to HIS light.
Tomorrow, you will get to experience that light first-hand when we say good-bye for the last time. I don’t want you to be scared. Mommy and Daddy will be with you the whole time when we take you to Dr. Scott. He will give you lots of treats and will give you some medicine that you don’t even have to swallow. It will make you very sleepy, and that’s just fine. When you feel deliciously tired, just let your eyes drop and drift off to dreamland. When you wake up, you will be with God, your very creator, Himself! God made you and knows what a Good Boy you are! Since he made you he will fix all those parts in you that hurt and don’t work well anymore with just a blink of his eye and a pat on your head. I imagine he’s told the angels to ready a special place for you. Your Uncle Rich is there just waiting to get to pet your soft fur and wrap his arms around your neck. I’m sure he’ll throw the tennis ball for you, too, as much as you want. I know you are hurting and confused. I know it’s horrible to wake up from sleep to find messes all around you. Tomorrow, all that will go away. There will be no more pain for you, ever! No more grumbly tummy. No more stiff legs. No more having to fall down to get to a reclined position. You’ll be free to run like the wind again!
I’m going to miss you so much. This week has been so hard for us both. Yesterday I could barely stand to look outside because most of the time you just stood right outside the door. You barked at me and wanted to come in and see me. I went out to see you so we wouldn’t have too many indoor messes to clean up. (Now don’t worry about all the messes. I gladly cleaned every single one of them up because I love you. I wouldn’t trade the past twelve years with you for anything.)
Today we’ll spend the whole day with you. I know you’ll be so happy when we sit on that couch so you can snuggle again. I’ll read out loud — that always soothes you even though I’m not sure you can hear my voice anymore. And we’ll probably sing some and look at the birds and bunnies hanging out in the backyard. I’m going to hug your neck like I did last night. You can grumble all you want — I have to get in my Shiner hugs! I’ll sing my special song to you:
Who loves Shiner, who loves Shiner? Mommy does. Mommy does. Mommy loves Shiner, Mommy loves Shiner. Mommy loves. Shiner.”
You know I WILL cry. Twelve years ago, you comforted me when I was hysterical after learning my childhood kitty cat, Sassy, had gone on to heaven. She was mean to me, but I was still sad because I knew it would a long time before I saw her again. I was crying then, and you came and brought me all of your toys and then climbed in my lap. Do you remember doing that? Today you don’t play with toys anymore, but I’ll bring you a brand new bone to chew on. It will cheer me up to see you happy.
Two things make you happy these days: food, and snuggling. So I’m going to give you lots of both today.
Your daddy will be home tonight. He is anxious to see you and has missed you all week. You are his buddy, too. Uncle Blake will be here tonight, too. He used to be your wrestling partner in your younger days and still loves you very much. He wanted to come say goodbye. Be sure to give him a kiss, okay?
Your daddy wants to grill you a steak for breakfast tomorrow. Won’t that be yummy? All those times you’ve stood leaning against his legs while he grilled delicious things…most of the time he only gave you a bite of it, right? Tomorrow you can have the whole, juicy thing. And for dessert, I’m going to give you a (shhh, don’t tell anyone!) chocolate candy bar! You’ve always had a thing for chocolate…this time you can eat the whole bar without sneaking around with it. I’ll even put it in your bowl.
You have been the most loyal, faithful, loving doggy a girl could ever want. Thank you for being my friend for these past twelve years. I am already missing the doggy you used to be…but for today, I will cherish the doggy you are, warts, messes and all. I love you!
Shiner on the day we got him. He was just 8 weeks old:
My daughter is having a very difficult time as Saturday grows closer. She crossed out every Saturday in her school planner book because she said she didn’t want to be reminded.
I remember before she was two, one of her favorite phrases was “Shiner’s outside” or “Shiner’s at home.” Most people couldn’t quite understand her because it sounded more like, “Siner’s owside.” One day my husband came back from a business trip and told her,
Home is where the heart is!”
Then she proceeded to correct him, saying,
No, Daddy! Home is where Shiner is!”
This memory, and others like them, both comforts me and makes me unbearably sad! But after last night’s all-night cleaning vigil, I know it’s time. It just breaks my heart to know that home will no longer be where Shiner is.
Rejoice in the Lord always. I will say it again: Rejoice! Let your gentleness be evident to all. The Lord is near. Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.”
Philippians 4:4-7
(picture is of Shiner in better days!) Last night as I cried while looking at Shiner’s doggy bed, I felt a nudge to contact the veterinarians we used when we lived in Florida. Actually, I had felt this nudge several times in the past couple of months, but I always chalked it off to me missing Florida. We really “clicked” with Drs. Fred and Sheri Cone at Plantation Animal Hospital. They loved Shiner just as much as we do, and they were there to help us first with the TPLO surgery referral and then they did the surgery when the other knee went out. Actually, I mourned the loss of them as our veterinarians as much as I did the tropical sunshine and views!
Today I can say that the nudge was the Holy Spirit. God knows just what we need, doesn’t he?
So last night I found their website and sent them an email via the appointments scheduler. This evening, Dr. Cone called me. She remembered us even though we’ve been away for over two years now. Shiner was one of her favorite patients. In her gentle way, Dr. Cone listened and said that she agreed that we are indeed at the end of the road. There isn’t anything else to do for him. If he were in his “right mind,” he’d be mortified at the messes he’s making. She said it’s possible a brain tumor is wreaking havoc — but the only way to know is with expensive scans — and then what do you do? Either way, as difficult as it is, the time has come to say good-bye. We have done everything we could possibly do to make him comfortable. She said she agreed with our decision to say good-bye.
As I sat and let her words wash over me, I felt a peace inside that I haven’t known. Several nights ago as I lay sobbing in bed, I told God all about it. I told him I couldn’t handle this anymore, and I laid it all at his feet. Then last night I felt the prompting to contact Dr. Cone. When I obeyed that prompting, God used her to help me see that we are on the right track. We aren’t being mean, horrible pet owners. We are doing the right thing for the right reasons.
I am still unbelievably sad…but a measure of peace that I can’t explain is enveloping me like a cloud.
So thank you for your warm prayers. Keep them coming! Each day brings new challenges, new thoughts, new griefs. But for this evening at least, I am feeling a measure of relief. Thank you, Lord!
