My son-in-law lives next door to us; he has a dog, Rosco. My grandson lives next door to us; he has a cat, Sabrina. My granddaughter lives next door to us and has a dog named Bruno. Collectively, the family has a third dog, Annie. In all domestic matters, my daughter rules an orderly ark. When her foot goes down, all fourteen ears jump up in attention.
Annie is the oldest and most civilized of the menagerie. Bruno is less than a year old and spends most of his awake time in the air, only touching the ground for directional control and acceleration. Rosco is the resident and, evidently, a perpetual adolescent.
Sabrina must have her paragraph. I only get glimpses of the four-legged shadow of the night being. I’m not sure she tolerates the rest of us, but our grandson seems to have some mysterious subliminal connection with her. She is always in stealth mode. She provides the least companionship to the family, but she keeps the house rodent-free.
A year ago, Annie and Rosco were outside barking at squirrels and each other. Rosco is a bad influence on Annie. Annie stays close to the house on her own, but she will run like the spring wind under the influence of a rebellious adolescent, Rosco. On that mournful day, Rosco darted home, crossing our road; Annie didn’t make it. A car clipped her. The result was a compound fracture of her right rear leg.
Our neighbor crew would never pay three thousand dollars to purchase a dog. But they did pay three thousand dollars to save Annie’s life. Annie is now a healthy tripod pet.
This is where I ponder a philosophical question: “Does Annie know she is missing a leg? Indeed, her stability has been negatively impacted. She still loves to stretch out her whole body in a flat-out dash to her prey, real or imaginary. She misses the leg when it comes to scratching her inches. But does she miss her leg? Does she remember what it was like to have all four legs? Does she kick herself for blindly following Rosco? Is she jealous of the other two dogs and cat in the commune for having all four legs?
A different line of wondering comes to mind: “Does Annie appreciate what her humans did for her? Does she, or the other non-human members of the family, think they are humans, or do they think the humans are part of their canine pack or feline tribe?
What I have concluded is that there is a highly valued and meaningful relationship between the two species. They have a bond that matters to them. The bond seems to enhance their individual quality of life.
Why pay three thousand dollars to keep Annie alive? She matters to the rest of the family. You might even call that bond love. Relationships motivate us to action. No relationship leads to no action. Good or bad, hurtful or supportive, positive or negative, relationships always lead to action. No relationship usually eliminates the need for action in any way. I don’t care, so I don’t act.
Our Creator has chosen to have a relationship with His creation. He created from His love, and nothing has changed his spontaneous expression of love. Humans may and often do, choose to have no relationship with God and thus take no actions to reciprocate appropriately or inappropriately.
What blows me away is that He values each human enough to pay the price to redeem them from their folly of following their “Rosco” without appropriate caution. We are wacked by our indiscretions and self-absorption, and our lives are forever changed.
God does not devalue us, nor would He have us “put down.” Nothing we do can change the relationship God has with us. He chooses to love and keep loving even if our decision causes us to lose a leg.
For God loved the world in this way: He gave his one and only Son so that everyone who believes in him will not perish but have eternal life. God did not send his Son into the world to condemn the world but to save the world through him. John 3:16-17 CSB)
Photo – Anie before her mishap.
Baldwin Heirlooms 