About fifteen years ago our first family dog, Biscuit, passed away. My youngest daughter Emily was about eight and was understandably beside herself. That night, when I was tucking her in, she asked me “that” question: “Dad, do dogs go to heaven?” Now, as a parent, this is a softball question… right over the plate… you simply knock it out of the park. At that point, I don’t know what happened. Was it a really bad day or did I simply lose my mind? I launched into some poorly derived, theologically misconstrued statement about dogs not having human souls. “ Emily, you might see them, and they might be part of the heavenly experience, but they don’t really go to heaven.” Ugh. Suffice it to say, that conversation has gone down in family lore as one of Dad’s worst teaching moments.
Biscuit was the dog that walked our three girls to the elementary school bus stop each day. Just the girls and their dog walking two blocks in our subdivision—magical freedom for all four of them. Once Biscuit dropped them off, she would come directly home all by herself. Each afternoon at exactly 3:15 she would leave the yard (on her own accord) to meet the girls at the bus stop to walk them back home. Somehow, Biscuit even knew that the bus came early on Monday, and she was there waiting. When Biscuit passed away, along came Sammy. For thirteen years, Sammy continued to help raise our kids. She was the only one allowed behind the bedroom door when our teenage girls were upset, because Sammy really listened. She was the queen at our middle daughter’s wedding and celebrated with us all night long at the reception. Then last year, Salem arrived. Salem is a “rescue” that rescued us. Like many of us in this congregation, our pets have been the calm in the storm that we have been navigating these last several months. It’s no secret that more people are adopting pets right now. For companionship? Yes. But I also think they are another of a Christ-like example of how to treat our brothers and sisters. From her nose to the tip of her ever-wagging tail, she simply wants to love everyone.
Our Open Circles group just finished reading Richard Rohr’s
Universal Christ
. At the end, he dedicated the book to his dog Venus who had just passed away, saying “Without apology, lightweight theology, or fear of heresy, I can appropriately say that Venus was Christ for me.” Reverend Rohr, me too! So Emily, we’re both Christians, right? I deserve a second chance, don’t I? Here it goes. Yes, all dogs DO go to heaven. In fact, they’ll meet you at the gate and welcome you in.
