About Dogs

A couple of weeks before Christmas our old dog, Molly, had to be put down. She had enjoyed a good life in every sense. She was good and she made our lives good. Dogs seem to be gifted with ‘goodness’. Perhaps other species are as well, but seldom in such an uncomplicated way as dogs. Dogs know about trust and they know how to endure, for the sake of those they love, all kinds of unwarranted and unexpected situations. For Molly, one such situation entailed being in a car with her owner for more than 10 hours in freezing temperatures. A few inches of snow had fallen on the M11, back in  2003, causing gridlock, but together they endured the situation by sharing a sleeping bag which he happened to have with him in the back of the car.

Dogs oblige you to share your life with them, whether or not you realise it. Sharing one’s life with the dog (and they leave us little choice in the matter) is not like the sharing involved in any human relationship. There is a certain amount of ‘taking for granted’ which is OK between us and dogs, but which might not be OK in other family relationships. The reason for this is that dogs only understand what they choose to understand.  They only understand what adds to the sum total of the goodness of the arrangement which you have with them. This is what I have discovered through sharing my study with two dogs.

Over the years, we have had seven dogs and, with the demise of Molly, we have just acquired an eighth, although he is still with his mother and two of his siblings for the time being. I have agreed with my husband that the new dog can be based with him, in his office, but I doubt the arrangement will last. I do not think that he realises, as yet, that no amount of complaining will persuade a dog that his or her presence can at times be unpleasant, from a purely odorific point of view. Or that sudden barking is both uncalled for and distracting, as is snoring, loud lapping of water and other licking sounds. But I would not be without them. Their goodness, despite the practical drawbacks of having them in the same room, aids the creative process.

It is also a constant reminder of how God’s own goodness is revealed in the sheer doggishness of dogs.  As a result, talking to the dogs leads into prayer and prayer sustains creativity, although the dogs are quite unaware of any of this, believing that one is talking only to them in an oddly passionate and grateful way. Their response is to lie back, paws in the air, lips slightly flapping to reveal some magnificent teeth, and eyes half closed in something resembling bliss. Since Molly died I have started reading poetry to our remaining dog. She is enthusiastic but, sadly, quite uncomprehending, although she listens and stares intently. I sense that she is trying to make up for her friend’s absence, and for her own loss, by being even more of a dog than she already is, out of loyalty and devotion. She met the new dog yesterday and seemed more or less indifferent to him which is a sign of approval, of the relentless forward movement of life and of the goodness of God.