The mystery of a dog’s death

My daughter’s dog died last Wednesday. We knew it was coming for a few days and that morning, our big son carried her downstairs and onto our front porch. Clare stayed with her while she persevered in breath. It was so slow and deep and labored. She breathed her last in the sunshine with her girl’s hands on her head and side. My husband came home from work early and while we waited for him, the children colored pictures, wrote notes, gathered treasures, and painted rocks for her grave. Clare chose a small clearing in the spruce trees carpeted with pine needles. We now call it “Panea’s Cove.” It is a good place for sitting and remembering.

She was an eleven year old Rottweiller mix chosen from our Mat-Su Animal Shelter almost three years ago. It was not the dog Clare was looking for, however; she had her eye on a mastiff viewed on the website. But that dog’s kennel had a red-lettered sign that read, “Not for homes with small children or other animals.” We have a lot of both, so she and my husband had to pass him by. Sweet Panea looked sad so they took her out, unsure of adopting such an old dog. She stayed right by Clare, sat on command, and took treats gently. The next step was to bring in our other dogs and littler kids for a supervised meeting. Everyone passed with glowing marks and we brought her home. Panea proved to be the perfect dog for our girl, as devoted as Rin Tin Tin and as gentle as Lassie. She cheerfully licked the cat and snobbishly turned away from the ferret and rats. Perhaps she was terrified. We’re not exactly sure. We are sure that she was a perfect pet.

There have been, of course, many questions about dogs and death and heaven and souls and theology. We know that all life began with God (Genesis 1). We know that God breathed his breath into our first parents, Adam and Eve, and that only humans have immortal souls (Genesis 2:7). We know that God’s children will be in heaven (Philippians 3:20-21). Maybe our animals won’t be with us throughout eternity with the Lord?

But we also know animals are God’s dear creation. Paradise is described in the famous passage from Isaiah 11:6-9: “The wolf shall be a guest of the lamb, and the leopard shall lie down with the kid; the calf and the lion shall browse together...” The fourth commandment requires Sabbath rest for animals, too. We thrill to John’s vision of Jesus coming down from heaven on a horse. And children everywhere love the story from Numbers 22, when the prophet Balaam’s donkey could see the angel blocking their path and God opened his mouth for him to fuss at his owner. Then the angel fussed at him for ignoring his animal. Maybe they will be with us?

I found great peace in a passage from Peter Kreeft’s book, Heaven: the Heart’s Deepest Longing. He wrote: “Remember that everything real and valuable on earth came from heaven to begin with. A cat is not merely evolved molecules in motion; it is a divine idea, a work of art, and a sign. It is a natural sign; it has something of what it signifies, and what it signifies is something heavenly, so there is something of heaven in a cat. And heaven does not die. God does not throw his artwork into the wastebasket; God does not make junk. All his work has eternal value. It passes through time and seems to pass away – but it is in eternity.”

From I Corinthians 2:7,9, “God’s wisdom is mysterious, hidden, predetermined before the ages for our glory … It is written: What eye has not seen and ear has not heard and what has not entered the human heart what God has prepared for those who love him.” And so we are left with a mystery, something hidden in God’s wisdom which awaits disclosure. Our Lord is good and merciful. We trust him with the ache of missing a beloved dog. It is a mystery and it is OK.