Tuesday, August 16, 2005

"Even the dogs..."

This summer I've gotten to know our dog better. He's become my little buddy now. He's been following me all around the house as I go about my special summer-chores, like deep-cleaning, "clean-sweeping," organizing, painting, and so on. This is the first dog I've ever had (normally I'm a Cat Person). Because having a dog is new to me, I notice things about him that are Different From Cats. ("Dogs have masters; cats have staff"). I think the dog has decided that I'm "his person," which I find absolutely delightful. :)

One of our doggie's endearing little habits is his way of stationing himself beneath the table where we happen to be sitting. It doesn't matter which table it is: if I'm sitting there, he plants himself beneath it. If we're in the kitchen, he's under the kitchen table. We used the dining room last night: there he was, beneath it. When we visit my parents with doggie in tow, he plunks himself down beneath their table. So far we haven't run across a table with a central column instead of four legs, but I imagine that if we ever do, he'd find a way to plant himself more or less beneath it.

He's got pretty good manners about begging at the table, but he's still a dog, and I think dogs just can't help themselves. Because I didn't grow up with dogs, this business of begging-at-the-table is new to me, and I really don't mind it. I have seen other dog owners stop their pets from doing the table begging routine. We don't stop him. It's just too cute. (Saves on some floor-sweeping, too, after a meal). Having a dog around is a little like having a walking garbage disposal. Nothing that falls from the table stays on the floor for very long.


The first time he sat there looking at me pathetically with his big brown eyes, waiting for a table-tidbit, I gave him one and watched his tail just about wag off his little body. "Ah-ha: THAT'S what they were talking about in the gospel!" I thought. "But rabbi, even the dogs get the crumbs that fall from the master's table!" If you've never had a dog around, you don't really "get" the full meaning of that passage, I think. You have an idea, but a dog incarnates that story for you, and that's when you really understand its nuances.

It makes me ponder the meaning of that gospel story: "Even the dogs get the crumbs that fall from the Master's table."

Our doggie is very patient and humble when he waits by my side to get something from the table. He doesn't whine or make a nuisance of himself, but he does stay there with an amazing degree of steadfastness until he gets a crumb. I watch him, and I think that the phrase "prayer of humble access" fits the look in his eyes and his posture perfectly.

When he wants something from the table, he is steadfast and patient. He trusts that eventually I'll give it to him. And when he receives it, he is joyful and grateful. Sometimes he doesn't get what he wants - sometimes what's on the table just wouldn't be good for him, so I don't give him any.

That doesn't stop him from asking again the next time. And there is always a next time. But what if we're having spaghetti one night? Dogs wouldn't like spaghetti. They wouldn't know what to do with it. And you can't give chocolate to cats and dogs; I've heard it can be poisonous for them. But my doggie doesn't sulk or hold a grudge just because he didn't get what he thought he wanted that day. And he goes through the very same cute little routine when the next meal comes around. He doesn't complain when he doesn't get what he thinks he wants. Somehow, he trusts me to give him only what I know is good for him. He is steadfast and patient; he is loyal and loving. Because he didn't get a table scrap one day does not mean that if someone threatened me, he wouldn't have at their throat in a heartbeat. He's super-protective of me. A week or so ago, he nearly made the Comcast repair man faint. He sounded so ferocious. This protective behavior and his loyalty is what won my parents over to Dogdom: my father especially didn't care for dogs, but when he saw how protective our dog was of me, Dad changed his mind.

Even though our doggie doesn't always get exactly what he's asking for, that doesn't stop him from asking again the next time, nor does it change his basic nature and attitude toward me.

Trusting, patient, loving, faithful, loyal, and perservering. That's how dogs are.

And no matter what, he keeps on trying for a table scrap. Not getting what he asked for before doesn't stop him from asking again. Because--who knows? The next time, it might just be steak.

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