Losing a Dog and Deism

My little family had to put down our little dog, Clark. Clark was a good dog. He was a Scottish Terrier that wasn't the stereotypical Scottish "Terror." We had to leave him behind with family when we lived two years in New Zealand, and when we came back it was like we had never left. He was great with the babies, and he protected our home.

He had health problems from the start. He couldn't shake the mites, and came close to becoming a full-on mangy-mutt. Genetics were likely the cause. Earlier this summer, it seemed like the mites were coming back with a vengeance, and when we took him to the vet we found out he had the Big C - Lymphoma. After six short years of life, only four of which we enjoyed with him, he would be gone in a month.

We treated him to a trip "up north" for the Fourth of July, where he could explore and play without a leash. We fed him treats continually, and even the occasional tasty piece of steak or chicken from the table. We said goodbye to him every night and closed his kennel door wondering if he would be dead in the morning. We made damn sure the little guy knew he was loved.

His energy and condition deteriorated. He wasn't eating. When we pet him, we could feel his bones more and more. It was time.

We took him to the vet, and were with him when he died. We looked into his eyes, and told him we loved him, and saw those brown eyes go blank. We wrapped him up in his sleeping blanket and took him home. We buried him in the backyard with some of his favorite toys. We said goodbye on our terms and in our own way, and it was special.

After I filled in the hole, I told my wife, "This is easier now that I'm not a Christian."

One of our pastors, some time ago, gave a sermon about when his dog died, and in his garage he cried out, up into the trusses: "WHY GOD?!? WHY?!?" It became a continuing joke with us - we often thought, "Wow, you must have a blessed life if the passing of a dog makes you shout at God." It seemed to us a little insensitive and disrespectful to people going through real pain - losing children to disease, or parents.

As a Deist, I was able to deal with Clark's passing much easier than I have dealt with pain in the past. A faith in an all-powerful God that controls all things, directs all actions, or even just occasionally interferes in the affairs of men raises inevitable questions.

Knowing our little family's history and the real problems and pain we have encountered over the last few years, as a Christian it would've been really easy to say: "Jesus Christ, God, couldn't you have thrown us at least one little bone and allowed our dog to live out his full life, and not take him from us prematurely? With all that we've been through, could you at least have done that?!"

It would've been easy to get discouraged again and think: "We are cursed. Nothing ever goes our way. Not even our little dog."

Or think: "Maybe I'm being punished for my sins."

Or think: "Maybe I'm not a good enough Christian, and that's why I am not receiving His blessings."

Or think: "Fuck you, God. You're a prick."

As a Deist, none of these thoughts occurred to me. Sure, it was unfair that our little dog had the genetic defect that caused his mange, and caused his lymphoma - but if anything that was the breeder's fault, not God's. And even if we had known from the start that Clark was defective, would it have been better to have just put him down when he was a puppy? That may have been better for us - selfishly, we wouldn't have fallen in love with a pet that was doomed from the start and spent money treating his problems - but it certainly wouldn't have been better for Clark! He had a good life with us. He had a fenced-in yard to play and run and chase squirrels and bark at people walking by on the sidewalk. He wasn't cooped up inside all day. And we loved him.

In the end, everyone - everything - dies. If we guarded ourselves against pain - if we said "No, he's defective and isn't going to last very long, he isn't worth our investment in money and love..." - we wouldn't love anyone.

We're all going to die. It's a fact.

And he was just a dog. He was an animal. He had no concept of time or tomorrow. He lived in the moment, and while he was here he lived in those moments with us. And we'll remember him.

Even now, just a short time later, when I'm mowing the lawn and walk by his little concrete tombstone I made, with his name written in little rocks sunk into the concrete, I say: "Good boy, Clark."

But I don't feel guilty. And I don't feel angry. If anything, I feel that he's trotting at my side through the grass.

Do I know that I will see him again? No. Can I hope to see him again? Sure. Why not? The Creator who designed the Universe and all its systems and wonders is worthy of my trust. I trust that whatever comes next is good and just. So, I can hope.

Good boy, Clark.