I don’t know if dogs go to heaven. I don’t think they have souls, but I’m really not sure how God works out what ends up in a place that was created for our joy. I did have a cat in my youth that I’m pretty sure came from hell and to hell I imagine it did return, which makes me a little more sure that there must be a place in heaven for the animals who brought a special joy to people during their lives. I don’t believe the animals have earned heaven, but maybe they will end up there because their very existence would contribute to the beauty there. Which is why I think we may see Butter again some day.
Josh and Butter
A dog died today. I haven’t seen this dog in about six years, but during our five years of houseparenting, she was a constant presence. She was a yellow lab who belonged to a couple that worked on campus with us. Mr. Pat was responsible for a lot of the maintenance and grounds care of the Ranch (and he taught math to some of the older students) and Mrs. Beth was responsible for my sanity. . . or something like that. They had been houseparents at the girls home and were now spending their retirement years continuing to invest both through Mr. Pat’s physical work and Mrs. Beth’s relational work and spiritual mentoring of the staff and students. I’m not sure what their exact job descriptions were because what they did was so much more than what anyone could put on paper. I remember the first week we were in our giant new house I was cleaning it from top to bottom before the kids got back from a break. Mrs. Beth came in and said, “You’re exhausted aren’t you? You know, most people with a house this size would also have a maid.” It was incredibly validating and I knew from that moment on I would love her. And I did.
Pat and Beth lived in the apartment above our garage for most of our houseparenting years. They were involved with our boys and functioned in a grandparent role for them. Mr. Pat also brought into the house the occasional giant bug or turtle he knew the boys would be interested in. I have almost forgiven him for that.
Part of loving Pat and Beth was loving their dog, Butter. We all knew she was Mr. Pat’s dog and she sweetly tolerated the rest of us. Like Pat, she was smart and driven and friendly and had a sense of humor. She never met a tennis ball she didn’t want to chase. She also had a unique talent for getting in trouble and getting away with it. There was always a rotating gang of dogs on campus and Butter was the unassuming leader. She would come up with mischief, but she was too smart to get caught. Which is why eventually all the other dogs had to be on leashes, but Butter ruled the roost and roamed freely.
I can’t count the number of times I’d look out the front door and see a little boy or an almost man sitting out there on a porch rocking chair telling Butter his secrets. She would come up to the porch while we did school out there and kids would read to her. Or they would read a book and throw the tennis ball to her between each page. She would rest her head in your lap with a tennis ball in her mouth until you clearly got the message. She would walk kids to and from classes. She would be highly energetic when the moment called for it, but calm and gentle when dealing with a kid who was afraid of dogs or when she knew you were upset.
Our boys watched her give birth to a litter of puppies. It was a science lesson that made quite an impact. They saw her care for those puppies and nurture them and teach them independence over the course of a couple months. A seven year-old we had at the time watched her nurse the puppies and said, “She has lots of nipples because she can have lots of babies. People just have two nipples because you usually don’t have more than two babies. Miss Maralee, your nipples must not be good for anything since you can’t have babies.” Some things are not worth explaining and sometimes when maybe you should be offended, you just have to laugh.
I went through a painful surgery recovery while we were houseparents. The kids were on break and I remember shuffling out to the porch to rock and Butter took her place beside me. She was there a long time just being quiet with me and it made those painful moments just a little bit easier. She seemed to sense when you were hurting physically or emotionally and she was at her best in those moments.
She was a dog who served her purpose in life. She was loved and she did her job. I think for all of us who knew her (and there were A LOT over the years— staff, students, campers, volunteers), our love and fondness for her was really a love of her owners. I remember doing dishes and looking out my kitchen window to see Pat and Beth on a walk together, hand in hand with Butter beside them. I thought, “That’s what I want.” It’s still what I want and what I strive for— to cultivate that friendship with my spouse so when the kids are grown and gone we are still serving God together, taking walks together, with a gentle pup at our heels. I think of the hours she spent in the garden while Mr. Pat put in the watermelons and planted the spinach. She always seemed to be a hard worker, but it was really just that she enjoyed being wherever he was. Just like we all did. Kids and staff alike want to be with Pat and Beth and even pulling weeds in the hot Tennessee sun was worth it when you got to hear Mr. Pat telling corny jokes and Mrs. Beth trying to pretend they weren’t funny.
We will miss you, Butter Girl. You were everything a dog should be.