Our Pets Gift to Us

The action adventure star, Dwayne "The Rock" Johnson, announced last week that his dog had died after eating toxic mushrooms. He called it a reminder that we have "to live and love as greatly as we can because tomorrow is never guaranteed."

It's amazing what our pets can teach us.

His announcement carried me back to a movie I saw several years ago. I didn't expect to cry. The others in the theater probably didn't either. But there we were blowing our noses and choking back sobs.

"Marley and Me" is a splendid film filled with robust laughter. The title character, a frisky Labrador retriever, earns the reputation of being the world's worst dog. He chews holes in the drywall, rips up linoleum floors and gets expelled from obedience school.

Many of us dog lovers can identify with Marley's exasperated owners. I remember too well the expression on my wife's face after my dog munched on her cherished oak chairs.
How could this movie move us so deeply?

Several years ago, Jeff wondered into my office. He was a member of my congregation, but I didn't know him very well. We talked about football, and we talked about the weather. Sheepishly he asked, "Patrick, can you give me scripture passages to read about pets?"

"Pets? Tell me more."

"My dog, Samson, died four months ago, and I, uh, I wonder if I will see him again in heaven."

I nodded my head in affirmation. Then, I walked over to my bookcase, and picked up a picture of Sandi. Sandi was my beloved pet for 13 years. I still recall trembling with sorrow when I held her as the vet gave her an injection that ended her pain and suffering. I handed the picture to Jeff and said, "Sandi died five years ago. I still miss her."

For 30 minutes, we swapped stories about our dogs.

How could we spend 30 minutes talking about dogs?

They're just animals. Right?

Before you answer that question, however, talk with Jeff. Talk with any of the 85 or so men, women, and children who participated in a Blessing of the Animals service several years ago. They came with dogs and cats, birds and lizards, fish and ferrets.

One woman said, "I just moved here last week, and I am so glad you held this service. My dog died a few months ago, and I feel so alone."

Our pets lick our faces when we are sad and crawl into out laps when we feel dejected. They chase their tails and bark at squirrels. They sit by our feet and, sometimes, sleep in our beds. Their antics amuse and reassure.

Just animals? Of course not.

In a culture obsessed with gadgets, gizmos, and everything Wii, the Marleys, Sandis and Samsons of the world move us to reassess our priorities and question who we are.

We have a remarkable capacity to love and to care. We discover joy in nurturing relationships with family, friends, and even strangers. We laugh with them and listen to them. We travel with one another on journeys through divorce and illness. Our hearts ache when we grieve their loss.

Our pets offer us devotion and companionship. But even more important, they help us to remember what it means to be human. Surely, that deserves a tear or two.