The Gospel through a Dog Named Dodger

In many ways, my dog and great friend Dodger, who died yesterday, saved my life. I got him a decade ago when I was lonely and self-absorbed and thought very little about anybody or anything other than myself. I knew I needed a change at that time in my life. And I knew I needed that change to come from outside of me because all of my internal motivations had failed to produce the needed movement in my life. I was stuck and unable to get myself unstuck it seemed, and so I got Dodger.

Dodger was a reject. I found him at a Schnauzer shelter, having been rejected by the Jack Russell shelter where he should have been and several previous owners who “couldn’t handle him.” And he was, indeed, a handful. But, then again, so was I. I understood Dodger and somehow knew that he understood me. And so we stuck it out the two of us. Dodger made me get out of the house – taking long, long, long walks – that not only relieved at least some of his Jack Russell energy but also got me out of my own head. There were no more excuses – rain, snow, heat – we had to go, and it was on those long walks that Dodger and I explored the world together and received the grace that only comes through caring for somebody, something other than self. We needed each other. And we both needed to be needed. He was my dog. I was his person.

Over the years, as our house became more crowded – first with my dear wife and her dog, Maggie, and then with our two daughters – life became complicated. The walks became less necessary and my time was radically divided. But Dodger went right along with it – happily I think – because he knew that he was still my dog and that I was still his person. He showed great patience – allowing our two year old to pull his ears and try to ride him without so much as a nip. He showed great compassion – often plopping himself into laps that were busy crying or working or being angry – reminding us – all of us – of the simple power of love in the midst of a crazy life.

Dodger exposed my weakness – day after day. My impatience with his curiosity and his desire to be in the middle of everything. My anger at his “honking” sounds that would arise – poor guy – upon any change of weather because of a collapsed trachea that he had received before we met. My laziness, my self-centeredness, my apathy. Yet every time. EVERY TIME – Dodger was ready to forgive in an instant – and come back and snuggle up next to my left leg on the couch and go back to being my dog. And letting me be his person.

Dodger was a great dog. In all his rejected glory. He was a great dog and we loved him so much and will miss him beyond imagination. In many ways our home will never be the same without him and that is something to be grieved deeply. But more than anything we are thankful to have had the gift of Dodger. We are thankful for the inconvenience of him. Love is not efficient or tidy. We are thankful for the laughter he gave us. We are thankful for the faithfulness he taught us. But more than anything – I am thankful that he will always be my dog. And I will always be his person.