On Canine Companions

I work at a wonderful "Doggy Daycare and Pet Resort" as my full-time summer job, which basically means that for about 7 hours a day I am caring for and playing with dogs of every variety of breed and body. And as you may have noticed on my Twitter feed on the right--> (follow me!)--> I had a mini-epiphany the other day at work.

A somewhat rambunctious, medium sized dog jumped, uninvited, into my lap while I was chaperoning the little dogs. She's a gorgeous mixed breed, slender and muscular, wrapped tightly in a coat of short hair peppered in equal parts silver and gold. And while I would normally not allow a dog to simply jump into my lap without inviting it to do so--especially a medium sized dog like her--I allowed her to find her balance and sit, awkwardly, on my lap. As I held her steady with my hands, I felt just how muscular she was, her sinews tightening sporadically to retain a comfortable balance. And within moments, I was admiring her like a piece of artwork, this dog who only minutes before I had been reprimanding for attempting to mount a debilitated, geriatric little Yorkie.

And it was in that moment that I felt the fulfillment of a primal nostalgia... like I realized that what I was doing, in that moment, was the dream of ancient man coming true. I was holding in my hands a powerful, keenly intelligent, beautiful beast that our ancient ancestors could only admire from a distance. Ancient humans no doubt envied them for their precision and synchronicity in the hunt. But they must also have wanted to simply draw close to them, in the same way that we all secretly desire to "meet" the wild animals we encounter. Who hasn't wanted to look at a Red Fox up close, to touch its tail. To rub a white-tailed deer on its nose. To make a Tiger purr.

And yet in some extraordinary twist of Providence the path of the dog and the path of the human being were woven together. The dog became first a tool, and then a friend.

So as I held that dog in my lap, I realized just how privileged I was to be close to these dogs. To be able to reach out to them and have them come, wagging, to me. Through the year's we've fashioned the dog to fill our own needs, and sometimes simply to suit our own fancy (many times to the detriment of the dog), and I can't help but recognize that something of the wild beauty of the dog has been lost in the process of domestication. But something has also been regained, I think. We see a glimmer of a Paradise lost; a time when we were at once a harmonious part of the natural order and the rising masters of it. I'd go so far as to say that domestication, when the animals are not simply reduced to material goods, is a foretaste of that New Earth of which Isaiah dreamed, with lions lying with lambs. It's a gift given to us, in nature, by a generous Heavenly Father: a sign of what those powerful, natural dynamisms within humanity can achieve when they are properly ordered towards the Good.

So while I can't say that I succeed in "living" this realization to its fullness on a regular basis, I have to admit that I can't take dogs for granted as easily as I had before. Especially my dogs at home! I just wanted to share this "revelation" with all of you, and encourage you to give your dogs a big hug the next time you see them, recognizing just how awesome it is simply to be able to do it.