Hounds of Heaven
The Hound of Heaven
"Halts by me that footfall;
Is my gloom, after all,
Shade of His hand, outstretched caressingly?
'Ah, fondest, blindest, weakest,
I am He Whom thou seekest!
Thou dravest love from thee, who dravest Me.' "
-The Hound of Heaven,
Francis Thompson (1859-1907)
When Annie put Elliott out of her misery, I wasn’t around (I don’t recall the details, but I was out of town for whatever reason). I have never had to put down any dog or cat that I have owned, so I don’t know what that’s like, or how difficult it will be. The only pet death that I vividly recall is that of Mather, the one-eyed cat that made me appreciate felines. Mather got weaker and weaker, until I was keeping him in the day on a comfortable cushion in front of the heater, with a dish of water nearby. He was eating and drinking almost nothing. I still picked him up and placed him in bed next to me, so he’d be warm. I still flinch as I recall one night when I woke to the thump! of him falling off the bed to the floor, too weak to stay atop the bed. He was limp and almost without any energy when I picked him up. It was like picking up a lump of clay. One day, I came home to find him stiff and cold in his little nest by the heater. For some reason, Ann was out of town that time, so I put his body out in the cold garage to await her return. His little death affected me more than anybody else’s, animal or human, that I had experienced in some time – maybe since Ellen’s death.
As usual, Annie dug a hole for him in our backyard, and buried him, placing a layer of cobble rocks on top. She always rejected any help from me in these pet burials; it was somehow important that she perform this service solo. She would not, or could not, explain her feelings. Elliott, Perrier, Mather, Glacier, Esker, Kennicott, and McCarthy are all buried back there, I believe.
Russ Perry sent me an amusing email, “Do dogs go to heaven?”, as an example of the “dogma” that he so dislikes in organized religions. It has a series of competing messages supposedly between a Catholic and a Presbyterian church on their worship signs, saying back and forth:
-“All dogs go to Heaven”
-“Only humans go to Heaven, read your bible”
-“God loves all His creatures, including dogs”
-“Dogs don’t have souls This is not open for debate”
-“Catholic dogs go to Heaven, Presbyterian dogs can talk to their pastor”
-“Converting to Catholicism does not magically grant your dog a soul”
-“Free dog souls with conversion”
-“Dogs are animals There aren’t any rocks in Heaven either”
-“All rocks go to Heaven”
I would have posted the photos, but I wasn’t smart enough to figure out how to make my computer comply. Anyway, I researched it at snopes.com, and the “warring signs” are a hoax. It’s all at
It's still funny, even if apocryphal.
The snopes site has a couple of amusing quotes:
“If there are no dogs in heaven, then when I die I want to go where they went” – Will Rogers.
“If I have any beliefs about immortality, it is that certain dogs that I have known will go to heaven, and very, very few persons.” - James Thurber
I sent the “warring signs” on to Kathy, with the following result.
Kathy;
I normally don't read the emails like this, but it was dog related (at first, anyway), so I send it on to you. I discussed this very theological question with Ann a couple of times.
Tom
Kathy-and what was your conclusion?
I wish for animals (and perhaps other of God's creatures) to gain access to happiness (of their sort) with their Creator. Wishing is not the same thing as believing. I remember talking with Mike Mortland over the deceased carcass of a Williamson's sapsucker at Guffey, and me opining that the little spark of life within it came from God, and perhaps is dispatched back to God on death. Not a sparrow falls without God's notice; I read between the lines that God loves His creatures, and wishes them well, and what could be better than Heaven? (Though by the same verse, I interpret Him specially appreciating humans more than a sparrow, and I don't find that idea disturbing. You no doubt love your dogs more than you love your goldfish, but you love both of them).
Ann, to my surprise, disagreed. At least to the extent that she was doubtful of seeing Elliott in heaven (Elliott's death being the occasion of this discussion). She so obviously loved her little creatures, it is surprising to me that she did not think God would be similar to her in His reaction to His creatures.
Stikine has cancer, a lymphosarcoma. Kathy found it when petting her, noticing swollen glands under her jaws. I had noticed that she was having difficulty eating her food, and her breathing was heavier, but hadn’t noticed the bulges. Mark took her to our vet Sheila, who prescribed some steroids. However, Sheila said that even in the 50% of dogs that are benefited by this treatment, it only buys them another 3-6 months of quality life. If the steroids don’t help, then it may be more like a month of quality life before I have to have her euthanized.
Like I said, I’ve never had to do that before. I’m thinking of asking Sheila if she would stop by on her way home from work on the appointed day, and euthanize Stikine here, so she wouldn’t be freaked out by a trip to the vet's. I will want to hold her as it happens, and I don’t know how hard that will be. Stikine is another little piece of my life with Annie, of course. So it will be a smaller loss of Ann. But she also has a little life of her own, and she is my significant other in a way that must faintly echo the way you three feel about your animal companions. She is the one who sleeps with me now. It even matters that she’s a she, since in an odd way her gender is important to me. I’ve redoubled the attentions that I give her, and Kathy comes over and walks a short ways with her some days. Writing about it makes me cry a little, which I haven’t done in some time.
I will bury her out in the backyard with all of her brethren and sistern. I knew that many of you, particularly the dog people, would want to know about it. I’ll keep you posted.
Love,
Tom
