Many of you will remember hearing about our dog, Sasha, who went b
lind very suddenly last fall. You may or may not know that we have another, older dog, Sammy. Sammy is a lab mix who is 15 ½ years old, and who joined our family long before we had children. Within a few months of getting married Donna and I found her – actually, I found her, as I like to remind Donna – at the local Humane Society. Just barely a year old, Sammy had just given up all her puppies for adoption and was a pitiful, but sweet dog that was scared and grieving. I took Donna to see her after work, and it was an instant connection. Sammy came home with us shortly thereafter.
As some of you know, dogs that are around before kids live like kings and queens. Sammy is no different. She got walked several times a day, had nearly two dozen different bandanas in her wardrobe, adorned our Christmas cards, went on vacations – all of it. She was an only dog for several years before Sasha joined us in seminary. Sammy has always been the protective one; she has a ritual of checking on the girls before she comes to bed for the night. From the time she joined us, she has loved to run around like a crazed dog at bedtime; at first it was laps around our apartment, and now, in her old age, it has been a few seconds of loping around, clattering her toenails on the hardwood of the rectory. This is also the dog who loves snow, and would bound into snowbanks much taller than she is. She would never catch a tennis ball, but she would always catch a snowball.
These are all the things going through my mind today, as we prepare to say goodbye to Sammy. She has been in kidney failure for about eighteen months, and finally, the kidneys have caught up with her. After a rough weekend, Bruce Tyler, our vet here on Saint Simons, has told us it is time. He’ll be coming by the house soon to make a house call. We had hoped that a treatment to help flush her kidneys out a bit would give her a couple of extra days for us to have a Frosty Paws party and make her a camping breakfast (the biscuits, gravy, and sausage my father in law used to feed her when we went camping), which she has not had for years. But such things do not go according to our plans. While she perked up for a night, it is clear today that she we need to let her go now.
As you may have guessed, I’m a pretty big dog lover, particularly my own dogs. Sammy has been, for all intents and purposes, our first child. She has been with us for almost as long as we can remember. I’ve never liked the term ‘pet’ for dogs; I think of hamsters and goldfish as pets. Dogs are companions. There is a special bond between humans and dogs. I will grant you that such relationships can be true of other animals, but dogs are the embodiment of this for me in my personal experience. Even our Judeo-Christian heritage suggests the importance of such bonds. In the story of Genesis after God creates man, God said, “It is not good that man should be alone; I will make him a helper as his partner.” It goes on to say, “So out of the ground the Lord God formed every animal…and brought them to the man…”
While the animals were insufficient as helpers and partners to a degree, leading God to take a rib and fashion a woman to join with the man, we cannot help but recognize that animals were always intended to play an important role in our lives. And I am glad that they do. While I recognize that the decision to have Sammy put to sleep is not on par with such decisions about parents or children, it is, to date, the hardest decision of the sort I have had to make. I get it. It’s our final gift to her to release her from pain and suffering, and I’d like to believe I will know Sammy in some way in some distant place when the time comes. But it’s still hard. I have taken it for granted that she has been there to give a hug and to scratch behind the ears – things that she loved receiving, and by receiving gave so much to me. I will miss that a great deal, and neither Sasha, nor any other dog will ever play quite the same role.
Now, you might think your Rector is a great big sentimental sap, and I’ll own that. I’m not the type of man who pretends to be stoic and keep emotion bottled up and hidden away. I’ve already cried a fair amount, and I’m not done yet. Deacon Becky will join us (Rev. Leigh would have come too, but her schedule will not allow it) for some prayers of thanksgiving and we will let her go. (Remember that I told you before we make house calls for animals and humans alike!) And we will give thanks. I am grateful that I have had Sammy as one companion in my life that has ensured that I have not been alone. I am grateful that God made this creation so full and so wonderful for us to enjoy and treasure, and I hope that I – that all of us – can remain mindful of that creation and all it offers, and not take it for granted.
Our beloved animal companions are not “just” pets. They give us more than “just” anything, and we grieve their death more than “just” anything. If you’re not an animal person, don’t worry – this rambling isn’t for you. If you are an animal person, join me in giving thanks for the gifts they give us, as we give thanks for Sammy.
Tom+
O heavenly Father, who has filled the world with beauty: Open our eyes to behold your gracious hand in all you works; that, rejoicing in your whole creation, we may learn to serve you with gladness; for the sake of him through whom all things were made, your Son, Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.