The Art of Unqualified Love
The Art of Unqualified Love,
A “Tail” of Two Dogs
“He taught us the art of unqualified love. How to give it, how to accept it. Where there is that, most other pieces fall into place.”
(John Grogan, Marley and Me: Life and Love with the World's Worst Dog.)
I merely intended for him to be a fling. But after spending a few days together, my affection grew into true love. He was my soul mate, a 100-pound Labrador Retriever/Great Dane mix. Our children named him Toby. Coincidentally, Toby means “God is Good.”
I found Toby at a Habitat for Humanity construction site after I locked my keys in the car. More than an hour from our home, I had to wait for my husband to arrive with the spare set. In that time, Toby stole my heart. Workers said someone dumped him there as a puppy. For months, he survived on water from sprinklers and food from garbage.
When my husband finally arrived, I said, “We need to take this dog to a vet. Then I will drop him off at a shelter.”
My husband gasped, “You are going to put that thing in your car? You can see the fleas hopping all over it.”
“Can you really just leave this dog out here to die alone?” I asked.
Looking at the dog and then back at me, he said, “Yes, Absolutely! I can leave that dog here.”
Toby and I pleaded with longing eyes until my husband acquiesced and helped the dog get into my car.
After a costly visit with the veterinarian we learned Toby had parasites and heart worm. We also learned that shelters are not inclined to take a sick big black dog. They are too difficult to place. So we resorted to Plan B. We would keep Toby until we found him a forever home. You know how this story ends. Toby never left our house.
Not long after we got Toby, another black dog started wandering through our neighborhood. He looked like Toby so neighbors repeatedly called to say our dog was loose when he was not.
We often saw Toby’s twin on our evening walks, and I named him Shadow. I tried everything to help Shadow.
I took dog treats on walks. I left water and food on our lawn to gain his trust. Still the dog avoided me. In fact, the more I tried, the faster he ran the opposite direction.
Shadow lived in a nearby drainage ditch. One winter night when the temperature fell below freezing, I took blankets and food to his ditch. Crazy, I know. I even crawled deep into the tunnel to place the blankets far from the bitter freeze. Have I mentioned I hate enclosed dark spaces? Still, a dog’s life was at stake. I powered through my terror. Despite my heroic and brave effort, Shadow wanted no part of me. He was a proud homeless dog who had no use for my middle-class values.
One day Shadow left our neighborhood, and we never saw him again. A friend speculated animal control got him. Another surmised he had died. I like to believe he sought adventure elsewhere.
Shadow had much to teach me about unconditional love. We can put the food out and offer blankets of warmth and love. In the end, we cannot force anyone to accept compassion. If Jesus could not save everyone he met, then neither can we. It is heart wrenching to watch someone choose a path that leads to self destruction. Nonetheless, we must strive to provide life-giving choices to those who have been deprived of them.
When we share and receive compassion, divine love grows. Even when our efforts are rejected or they inevitably end in grief, we have the distinguished honor of participating in God's unending love story.
Ten years after we loaded a scrappy, flea ridden stray into my minivan, he had long since earned his place in the heart of our family. One night, he started having uncontrollable seizures. My husband and I rushed our loyal and beloved Toby to an emergency veterinarian. Cramped in the corner of a tiny room, I sat motionless in tears while Gray and the doctor discussed our options. We had two. One was the unthinkable. The other was taking an MRI of his brain to see what was causing the seizures.
When Gray’s questions indicated that he was seriously considering the MRI, I raised my hand. The only words I could choke past the lump in my throat were, “Stop talking.” Grief had rendered me mute upon entering the office so my voice startled them. I composed myself and asked, “What happens after the MRI? Are we going to do brain surgery on a 10-year old dog whose time is up?”
The vet agreed that it was time to say goodbye, but since Gray had asked if we had any options, she presented them. The same man who could have easily left Toby at a construction site was now willing to do anything to save him. “The heart has its reasons which reason knows nothing of,” Blaise Pascal so aptly said. But our hearts knew that saying goodbye was the only loving option.
Pets are great reminders that you don’t have to say a word to teach people the power of unconditional love. Love breathes through the present moment and stretches our hearts so we can embrace both life's joy and sorrow.
A soul mate isn’t just one person with whom you spend a lifetime. Whether they have four legs or two, a soul mate is anyone who gives and receives love to unleash God’s miracle of hope in a world of hurt.
In this strange pandemic, dystopian-feeling world, sadness and frustration can easily be magnified. Pets remind us that strength doesn’t come from achieving desired results or making people to do what we think they should. When we don’t get the option we want, we can draw from the inner sanctuary of our souls, seek support from others, and practice “the art of unqualified love.” In so doing, we proclaim that God is good.
