This is the third day of Lucky the dog’s disappearance, and I think it time to recognize that he has indeed “walked on.” I truly believe he quietly left on a mission, which was crawl off somewhere to die. Animals are known to do that. Son Dutch, the Texan, and daughter-in-law Leslie have Australian Shepherds, and know animals well. Comforting Joan, who has been even more upset by this than I, he said to her, “Lucky did what Lucky had to do.”
Ted, an acquaintance of mine, related a story to me when we saw each other yesterday which I found quite compelling. He said a friend had a dog that did what Lucky did, and after a day or two his friend visited the dog’s favorite spot in the woods, and suddenly a white wolf appeared out of nowhere, looked his way until their eyes met, and then bounded off. He knew then his dog had said good-by. We humans should have such atavistic powers.
Saint Francis of Assisi, one of Christianities most revered and popular saints and the patron saint of animals and the environment, was once asked if animals had souls, and he answered in the affirmative. Then, in true “gotcha” style, the questioner asked, “well then, how big a soul do animals have?” His answer was, “As big as they need.”
All the above only makes sense if one believes that humans and other of God’s creatures have “souls.” The longer I live the more I want to believe that all creatures posses a degree of immortality, a soul, if you will. As a biologist of sorts I recognize the great economy of nature, which wastes absolutely nothing. That being the case, how unlikely is it that nature would waste the very essence of the most complicated of all her creations, the living individual, with all its unique characteristics and experiences? I don’t have any theories as to how nature might conserve the essence of the individual, but the world’s religions abound with them, take your pick.
I went to a funeral recently at which it was obvious that there was no recognition of the possibility of immortality (sorry, atoms dispersed at random through entropy do not make the grade). All that was left was to count the possessions and talents of the deceased, as well as contributions to society and family, and for various attendees to testify to his (and more importantly their own) great sophistication. I guess that’s what we end up with when the media is our god and celebreties our saints.
The funeral was filled with sorrow, but was utterly devoid of hope and joy. I was struck by how sad and empty and final it all was; if there is nothing left, what was the purpose of the individual, and of the life that was led? Sing me a couple of verses of “Amazing Grace,” or something. I suppose I should apologize for my politically incorrect, and undoubtedly maudlin, rambling.
So I am waiting, probably in vain, for some sign from Lucky that he has indeed “walked on, ” perhaps to some far away beach where we can stroll together again sometime. I don’t really expect to see a white wolf; an eagle might do nicely, though.
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