The Catholic Church has apparently commissioned a “self-study”. Among other findings, they blame “the promiscuous 50’s and 60’s” for causing more than just a few priests to err. Incredulously, they also concluded that if (the victim) is more than 10 years old – “it’s not pedophilia”. Really – they actually said that.
Since Confirmation, I’ve worn a scapular medal around my neck that reads: “I am a Catholic. Please call a priest” (this, in the event of an accident or life-threatening emergency). These days, I sometimes wonder why I continue to wear it.
A month or so ago, we learned that our dog, October, was riddled with cancer. I had to accept our fate, and assume my responsibility. She no longer lives with the pain of cancer, although I live, daily, with the pain of that decision. It was the right – but a truly awful thing to do.
October and I spent countless mornings walking in the local cemetery. It was there, or on the ballfield or down on the waterfront, that we’d quietly collect and sort out our thoughts, somehow finding God – or certainly sensing His presence. Dog-walking became a daily “religious” experience.
Kindness was administered by her veterinarian in our home in her favorite spot – with filtered sunlight from a window in the parlor. The aftercare folks gave me her remains, along with small pewter charm: a Golden Retriever – with angel’s wings.
Like humans, dogs occasionally misbehave. But unlike humans – and perhaps the Catholic church – they seem to be readily willing to accept responsibility and the consequences of their bad behavior without deflecting blame, or manufacturing excuses.
Above all else, a dog’s love is pure and unconditional – as love should be. Today, I wear that dog/angel charm around my neck. In the event of an emergency, please call a Golden Retriever – and kindly fetch me a cold beer.
God will surely find us.
2025