“Buddy the Wonder Dog: The Greatest Dog to Walk on Four Legs.” That’s his full moniker. We call him “Buddy” for short. Just the other day a stranger walking by looked at him and called, “Hey Buddy!” How did she know?
But he is a good buddy–the best buddy, I’d say. And we called him the “wonder dog” from the start, and he’s come through on that score on several levels. A rescue dog, perhaps a year old when we got him, we hope he lives into eternity now, and I think he will. Not because you can force such a thing, but because when I’m with him he brings me close to God—touchingly close—and God’s in the habit of saving things useful to Himself.
Bob Dylan has a song “Make You Feel My Love,” and God has done that for me through Buddy. Buddy is the agency of that truth, that God is love—but not just for me.
My three boys are now grown, but when Buddy arrived (It’s been 11 years now) my three teenage sons were not quite getting along. Imagine bickering, arguments, and competition; not quite the “domestic tranquility” that Thomas Jefferson promised us in the Constitution. But then Buddy came and that which our founding fathers wished for all Americans—domestic tranquility—came in greater measure to our house. He inculcated the softer emotions into my stressed-out sons. A softer side was created that allowed them to relax as Buddy sat beside them. When they call his name, the tonal aspect of their voices spoke to the inner charm that he worked upon them. “Buuuudddeee?!!” (That’s hard to communicate in text.)
“Buddy the Wonder Dog: The Greatest Dog to Walk on Four Legs”—I actually introduce him to people like that. It’s fun. And I’m not joking. For me he is that.
Orthodox Christians have icons in their homes. The artwork has a capacity for communicating divine truth, they say. Symbolist art that says something worth saying. Such a lovely idea, indeed. To have something in your home that refracts the light of divine truth!
But when a Russian devotee comes home after work, will that icon ever wag its tail? Will the icon jump on his lap and welcome him with a wagging tail? An icon could never do what Buddy does. You see what I mean? So many things in this world can reflect those divine but refracted rays. It’s not a lack of examples in the world, but a lack of imagination in our mind.
People who love pets and have a bond of affection receive a refracted truth of divine love, for sure. But at the same time, not all dogs are granted an equal capacity for such—nor are all pets. It’s not simply dogs which I love , it’s Buddy. When I’m with him, I often think that I would never want another dog—ever. If only he could live forever! That’s the trick, because I don’t want any other dog. I only need him—I only want him. And he’s right next to me, now.
In that last statement there is a bespeaking of “the loyalty of love.” In our marriage relationships we seek that embedded and fixed love; we long for it as we stand at its threshold. The marriage relationship has in it an implication of “forever”—even if the relationship fails. We start the marital relationship under a banner emblazoned with the words of “forever,” but so many of us fail to reach that finish line.
But I would never divorce Buddy—ever. And the touchingly beautiful thing is, in the 12 years he’s been with me, his behavior speaks the same thing.
And he teaches so many lessons, just through how he lives. The only regret is that I didn’t write all those lessons down. But since they come almost every day, it would be a very long book, for I’ve been thinking about him and the lessons he teaches for 12 years. Every time I’m with him, it’s like that icon with the refracting light. There is such an element of heaven in our company.
People can make fun of pet lovers, but maybe it’s because they’ve not experienced the thing I’m talking about. True, there can be excesses and strange aberrations in a person’s love for their pet, but I’m just speaking for myself and for the wonderful connection that I have with this dog, and he does so much for me: he gets me out of the house, walking; he welcomes me when I come home after work. He’s easy to please—and fun to be with. He’s never boring. And he really does make me a better person. If I was more like him, I would do well. “Buddy the Wonder Dog: The Greatest Dog to Walk on Four Legs”—a moniker that rolls off these lips with ease.
Consider sharing a story about a time when your beloved companion reminded you of our Lord acting in your life: