In this month’s parish newsletter,
I mentioned that this year’s
Blessing of the Pets –
would have a sad overtone –
since we had recently experienced the death
of several well known pets
in our parish family.
I think I got more response
to that article –
then any of the many that I’ve written.
And I found that other folks
had been thinking the same thing.
—
The death of a pet –
is taken very seriously in this parish community.
No one had ever dare say something like,
“It was only a dog”
or “It was just a cat.”
Be advised –
that is about as politically incorrect around here –
as one can get.
And you might really find yourself
“on the outs”
if you don’t get excited about a new pet
in the parish family –
and take appropriate notice
of the death of a beloved pet.
It’s just who we are in this place.
—
As most of you know –
my pets are very dear to me.
I have a strange habit
of adopting old –
and sometimes unhealthy pets –
from the local pounds and shelters.
I seem to be drawn
to the animals
that I think no one else is going to want.
And I know from the day I take them home –
that my time with them
is going to be relatively short –
perhaps a few years –
if I’m lucky.
And because I know that from the start –
it allows me to make a special effort
to give them
a little extra care,
and love,
and attention –
that I perhaps would not give –
if I knew that I would have
18ish years with them.
And I think they know this.
I think they know
that they’ve been “saved from the gallows” –
and I think they give me
that little extra care,
and love,
and attention,
in return.
Right now –
I have two cats and two dogs.
The cats are cats –
one a loving lap cat –
the other a temperamental diva.
One of the dogs
is a high spirited Westie –
that I sort of inherited.
He loves to chase any wildlife
that comes into my yard –
especially a raccoon
that might be twice his size.
He’s fearless –
and spends a significant portion of his life –
in the bathtub –
getting black swamp mud washed off him –
from chasing some animal.
He goes to the office
a few times a week.
He is just very cute.
—
The other is Frisky.
I’ve always liked big dogs –
really, really big dogs.
And after my two very old labs died –
I started regular visits to the SPCAs
and the Animal Cares Center –
commonly referred to as “the pound.”
I was looking for
another big old dog, or two.
And way down in the very last cage
of “the pound” –
was a little old Rat Terrier –
sort of like a Jack Russell.
He was really old,
and not very responsive.
I noticed that he had been there
for 4 months –
and I figured his days were numbered.
But he wasn’t what I was looking for.
—
About every 3 days
I paid “the pound” a visit.
One day it dawned on me –
that I was going to visit
the old Rat Terrier first –
and then going to look for “my new dog.”
Another day it dawned on me –
that the Rat Terrier –
“Frisky” had found me.
I took him to “the get to know you room.”
He didn’t bite –
or growl,
or exhibit any bad behavior –
so I took him home.
I did not know
that he was totally deaf.
I also did not know –
that he could barely see –
until we got home –
and I watched him run into things,
and fall down steps.
I took him to the vet
to have him checked out.
He had things wrong with him
that I’d never heard of –
resulting in a slew of nice expensive pills –
every day.
—
Frisky lives on.
I’ve had him about 3 years.
He can’t get up and down the steps any more –
so he has to be carried –
and I have a lot of steps.
He sleeps on my bed –
so he won’t get into trouble
during the night.
He wakes me up in the middle of the night
by licking my face –
to let me know that he has to go outside.
I put on some clothes –
carry him down the 17 steps to the 1st floor –
then outside –
and down 5 more steps to the ground.
He does his business –
and we reverse the whole thing –
and crawl back into the nice warm bed.
—
About a month ago –
I had a serious conversation with Frisky –
a totally deaf dog
that may not even know what I look like.
I told Frisky –
that I wasn’t sure
I could keep carrying him
up and down the steps –
and outside –
in the middle of the night –
especially with winter coming.
I told him about some options
that I’d been considering –
the best of which
was back to the pound.
—
Thank God Frisky
could not hear a word I was saying.
When I got back in bed –
with him curled up next to me –
I knew I never could do any of those things.
I had adopted him.
Nobody forced him on me.
He is my responsibility –
and I will do everything in my power
to give him the best life possible –
for as long as I can –
or as long as he lives.
That’s just the way it is –
and just the way it’s going to be.
And I wouldn’t want anything else
for Frisky –
or for me.
—
That’s what I think this is all about.
And in its own strange way –
it’s a truly wonderful blessing –
human and pet –
bonded to care for each other –
with all the love and affection
that we can muster.
Amen.
