Before anyone takes me to task may I simply state that I accept the Churches teachings on animals, our responsibility towards our good stewardship towards them and that they are not on the same plane as importance of creation as human beings.
I am, in other words, a Faithful Catholic.
That being said, I had a huge scare today because Duffy started vomiting and stopped eating. I had been told by his doctor that if that happened he was to be rushed in as soon as possible. Easy, unless it happens when I am at work which is 2 hours away from home and the only person in the house with him is my mom who does not have a car.
Easy, if it doesn't happen when the computer phone system goes down at work, two of the Records Management Systems start acting like a system one put together on a Commodore 64.
Easy, if you don't love your fur baby like he is your child because the five children you were destined to give birth to ended up waiting for you in heaven.
With all this happening at once I did what any level headed, Catechetically sound, professed lay Dominican would do.
I started to cry and called my brother. He called his son, Ryan and Ryan went and got Mom and Duffy, taking them both to the veterinarian who told us that the antibiotics I had been giving him should not be given to him on an empty stomach and sent us home free of charge because they had forgotten to tell me that bit of information.
Eventually, of course, I stopped crying long enough to take a phone call from my friend Laura. The call came as my level of anxiety and panic was rising and my first thought when I saw her name come up on my caller ID was "Oh no, she is going to want me to take her service commitment or something'.
I took the call because I have been taught to take calls no matter how I feel or what I am doing, so even though I was convinced the call would mean extra work for me I took it.
Was I wrong? Of course I was - why would that not be a surprise?
Laura was calling me only to hear my voice - you know why?
Laura was told today that her brother has about 30 days to live.
To describe the way I felt as two inches tall is being kind. I immediately thought of my panic over my Scottish Terrier having gall bladder problems and thought, "you have no problems". Laura and talked about how fabulous it is to be sober and to be in the position of being able to support someone we love during the last leg of their earthly journey. We discussed how blessed she is because she has given her brother such an amazing gift - her sobriety. He does not have to worry about her any more and he knows he can go on to meet Jesus without having to worry about his little sister. We cried, we laughed at ourselves and we ended the call - and I realized my purpose was to ask my Catholic family to pray for her because she has a row to hoe ahead of her. What I have is a sick dog.
There is a big difference.
Every day God reveals to me more and more how I have to learn to trust Him. Every day, thinking I have given Him my whole heart and soul, I get an example of how much deeper I need to go, how much more of myself I must be willing to hand over to Him without reservation.
My dog is my fur baby; of that, there is no doubt. I love him and do not want to lose him.
But Jesus Christ is my Lord, my Savior, my Creator, my reason for being. If He ever stopped thinking about me I would cease to exist - not die. CEASE to BE.
He loves me. He suffered and died for me. He founded a Church for me. For me He instituted the Sacraments.
He deserves my full love and attention, so I am going to try and remember that the next time I want to panic because my dog is sick.
Lord, let me remember who and what I am…..but more importantly? Let me remember who and what HE is because when I forget that, when my dog becomes more important the God, I will be lost again.
Oh, and thank you for all your prayers - St Francis, pray for us!