In Dog Years Feast of St. Francis Animal Blessing--Matthew 11:25-30 By: Ian Reed Twiss Theres a park that rises steeply from the Huron River and presses its oaks and maples up against the backyards in our neighborhood. Our dog, Mingus, has always loved to take walks in this park and particularly to take walks past a certain property where a certain other dog is often on lookout. The dog comes streaking down the hill from his porch as we unleash Mingus, and then they begin their game, the directions of which, as near as I can tell, go like this: 1) Bark like crazy at each other through the chain link. 2) Race each other down to one corner of the fence. 3) Bark like crazy while reversing direction in a spray of dirt and leaves. 4) Race each other to the other corner of the fence. 5) Bark like crazy while reversing direction in a spray of dirt and leaves. 6) Race each other back to the first corner of the fence. Repeat until your entire tongue hangs out the side of your mouth and your paws turn completely black. It is the best game ever, and now that you have the directions, you can try it too! In recent years, though, Mingus has begun to adjust his style of play. Most of the time, now, he only runs part way, then watches the other dog screech into the corner and reverse out again before catching him on the way back. Occasionally Mingus runs the whole way, keeping his rival on his toes, matching him dog for dog. Other times he just feints for the corner and waits. I can imagine him being like, Hah, made you run! you know, like hes playing smarter, knowing when to go for it and when to preserve his juice and tire the other guy out. But if Im honest about it, the whole thing reminds me of a shot Michael Jordan developed toward the end of his basketball career. Where once he would have muscled to the basket or out-jumped his man, he was now throwing in these little fade-aways, tipping them over the defenders hands. They were just as effective but also the clear necessity of a player who didnt have the speed or the hang time he used to. Yup, Mingus is playing an older dogs game, now. I see it in other ways, too: more careful paw placement coming down the stairs, a tendency to snap at puppies who nose up to him looking for a romp, and a more muted welcome when I get home from work. I think hes just as glad to see me, but instead of springing up and down Tigger-like at the gate, he simply turns his eyes in my direction and thumps his tail on the ground. Hes playing an older dogs game. Hes working with what he has left. The thing is, though, he doesnt fuss about it. I dont see him complaining about his aches and pains or looking back on his life with regret or forward to his death with anxiety. Of course, thats because he doesnt have the mental capacity to do these things, but in the case of getting older youve got to wonder, what good is that capacity anyway? You cant change the past. You cant duck the inevitable. Isnt it better to jump as high as you can, and run as fast as you can, and live as deeply as you can right now? Isnt it better to fulfill your calling as completely as possible, to be what you were put on earth to be, right now? Thats why, to me, Mingus embodies the Way that Jesus offers in todays gospel when he says, Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me; for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light. The burden of what Mingus is going through is light because he doesnt wrap it in all this existential angst. He is gentle and humble in heart because he doesnt freight everything with all this meaning about disappointment and mortality. When we got Mingus almost eleven years ago, I could have predicted some of the things he might teach me--about openhearted love and the joy of being where two or more are gathered together. About soaking in the richness of Gods creation through every sense in the body. About living right now. But it didnt occur to me that he would have something to teach me about aging. We know intellectually that our pets move through a more condensed timeline on earth than we do (unless you own a parrot or giant tortoise). But its another thing entirely to watch it happen--from the bounce and eagerness of youth to hobbling, cloudy-eyed old age--and to think to yourself, Thats whats happening to me too…only slower. They are here and then they are gone. And so are we. Boy am I going to miss him when he leaves us. Him and the loved-ones, friends, and fellow travelers Im bound to lose as I make my own way through whatever time I have left. In the meantime, I only hope I can take Mingus yoke upon me and learn from him. I only hope I can go through this process with the same acceptance and enthusiasm and presence that he has. I only hope that my God can help me to age like my dog. Amen.
Posted on: Tue, 07 Oct 2014 16:34:18 +0000
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