I Believe in Dog

(for Kelly, who recently lost her dog Hailey)

I was seven years old when I first understood, and promptly questioned, the concept of heaven. Mémère was reading me a bedtime story about people who died and went to heaven. The story made heaven sound, well, heavenly. I needed to know all about it and quickly posed a barrage of questions.

“Will Mommy go to heaven if she dies?”

“Yes”

“Will you go there if you die?”

“I hope so”

“Will I go there if I die?”

“Certainly. But that will not be for a long time.”

“Will Skippy go there when he dies?”

“No”

“Why?”

“Because Skippy is a dog. Dogs cannot go to heaven.”

This didn’t sound right. No. This didn’t sound right at all. How could such a wonderful place exist without dogs? Heaven sounded like a nice place to go, but who would want to go there if there were no dogs? I cried. I worried about Skippy. Where would he go? Was there a dog heaven? Would he know anyone there? He didn’t have any dog friends that I knew of.

The sadness dissipated and was replaced with anger. I was mad. It was unfair that Skippy couldn’t go to heaven. He was just as good as any person I had ever met. It was unfair that I had to go a place for eternity where there were no dogs. I thought heaven was supposed to be perfect, but the no dogs policy was clearly a huge flaw!

Skippy has been gone a long time now. So has Shadow. And Kiowa. The dogs I have loved and lost. It makes my stomach cramp to think of it, but I know some day I will lose my beloved Gosh as well. I can’t claim to know anymore now than I did when I was seven regarding where they have gone after death. Did they crumble to dust? Certainly. But did part of them live on? Certainly. Maybe they haven’t gone on to heaven or an afterlife, but they will always be present in my thoughts, memories and actions. My dogs have helped shape my life. They are my family members and my friends.

I wish I could believe in heaven. That is, a heaven that includes dogs. There would be sunny nooks for lounging, an abundance of tennis balls, and plushy, squeaky toys would grow on bushes. All of my dogs would meet up there and form one pack that would eventually welcome me with wagging tails, happy barks and slobbering tongues. I would get to be happy with them once again. But I am far too cynical to believe in such a post-life Utopian existence. I will simply have to be content with the simple truth: I get to share my life with dogs. That, on its own, is extraordinary.

I believed it when I was seven and I believe it now. Life is not complete without dogs. And my dogs have made my life, well, heavenly. 

My First Child is a Bit on the Hairy Side

Almost everyone thinks I have three kids. They are wrong. I have four, and no, I am not referring to my husband (in fact, I cringe every time I hear a woman make that remark).

I am referring (of course!) to Gosh, the best dog in the world. We got Gosh, our fur-kid, 2 years before we had a human kid and I have loved her as a child ever since. Because Gosh is the eldest, I started referring to her as the “older sister” after Devi was born. It was very cute when I would ask Devi “where’s your sister” and she would run over to Gosh. However, I will admit that this concept became a bit confusing for Devi and when she informed me that Gosh would get hands “when she grew into a people” I knew I had some explaining to do. It took months before I could convince her that Gosh couldn’t grow into a “people”.  Her honest little-kid mind doesn’t see Gosh as a dog, but simply as a member of her family. 

However, Gosh is a dog, and as a dog she does have limitations that my other children do not have. Though I try my best, I cannot always include her in all of the outings with the kids. She cannot go to the library, playgroup, or Museum of Science. However, she can go for walks, hikes and to the park and it is for that reason that I routinely take all my kids to the neighborhood park.  It is a place that they all can enjoy.

I have been going to this park on almost a daily basis to play ball with Gosh since she was a puppy. Now that I have the other three kids we get there a bit less often, but still 3-4 times per week to play and run around. At the park, I tend to get one of two reactions from the other parents who see me with my crew: either they are impressed and think I must have it all together to manage so much or they think I am crazy. Their attention is usually caught when it dawns on them that the three kids (age 3 and under) all belong to me. This invariably prompts comments such as “Boy do you have your hands full!” The not-so-subtle translation of which is: “I am so glad I am not you”. And then they see Gosh and say “You have a dog too? Wow, I could never find a way to bring the dog even with one kid”.

I get it. I do understand how someone could feel that way. Trust me, trying to watch 3 kids and a dog requires a lot of energy and I would seriously need 20 eyes to watch them all properly.  However, I simply do not feel the same way. If I am going to take my kids to the park, then I am going to take ALL my kids to the park. I can’t just leave one home unless there is a good reason. Don’t get me wrong, there are times when Gosh does have to stay home. But I can list them on one hand:

1. There is a playgroup at the park and there are just way too many kids that would be chasing her or scared of her or otherwise interfere with her ability to enjoy the park.
2. She has already had too much exercise during the day and it would be bad for her knee (she has a luxating patella)
3. It is too hot or cold and she would be miserable.

On all other occasions I bring all four kids to the park. And I love it.

I love that Gosh enjoys playing with all the neighborhood kids. I love exposing the other kids (especially those who were previously scared of dogs) to a very sweet, playful, good-natured pup. But mostly I love the fact that my children, all my children, can play around outside with each other. Chase. Tag. Fetch. Fun! It makes me happy to watch them play together as inter-species siblings.

Because in my mind, that is what they are. Siblings.