If you’ve been on a (non-class) Zoom call with me, viewed my Instagram story recently or even talked to me since January, you’ve probably seen or heard of my dog Rosie in all her sleek-furred, inquisitive-nosed, affectedly-aloof glory.
Rosie is a rescue dog from somewhere in the South. We don’t know where, because like most dogs that find their way to shelters in my home state of Delaware, she was brought here on a transport with lots of others. She’s probably part black lab mixed with some sort of hound, maybe a dash of pit bull or Staffordshire terrier, not to mention a generous proportion of absolute cuteness (in my rather biased opinion, of course). She has a little pink splotch on her nose that looks like a heart.
Since her adoption in January, we’ve found that Rosie can’t walk on a leash without getting extremely distracted by every squirrel, snores during the church livestream and sometimes expels gas audibly. She also joyfully wriggles her whole body when she sees me for the first time each morning, absolutely loves peanut butter and falls asleep with her head on my lap when I sit with her on the floor.
Lest this become solely an ode to my adorable and huggable dog, here is my point: the companionship of animals is a beautiful thing, especially right now, when so many of us are feeling alone.
On Easter evening, my family rented “The Call of the Wild” on Prime Video to watch together. Rosie started the evening in her usual corner beside the couch, cuddled up on top of her personal blanket (her living room blanket, that is; she also has her own blanket for the basement. She’s definitely not spoiled). Twenty minutes into the movie, she was snuggled reluctantly against my mom, perking up her ears when the dogs onscreen barked or growled.
A note about Rosie: her evening nap is an instituted custom in our household during which she prefers not to cuddle, so we usually don’t disturb her. She did eventually go back to her corner to sleep during the second half of the movie.
But something about this movie just really makes you want to hug your dog and not let go.
For those unfamiliar with the movie or the Jack London book on which it’s based, “The Call of the Wild” follows Buck, a big dog with a bigger heart who is stolen from his home in California and shipped to Alaska at the peak of the gold rush to be sold as a sled dog. Buck’s journey leads him to find his pack and discover his purpose, which sounds like an overly dramatic task for a dog but is told in a gentle and quietly emotional manner.
As a general rule, I do not watch dog movies because I still haven’t recovered from reading “Where the Red Fern Grows” in third grade. Then I found out about “Old Yeller” and “Marley and Me.” Why does the dog always have to die? Who decided that was the standard for a dog book or movie? Yes, dogs have shorter lifespans than humans, but why do these writers feel the need to rip my heart out like that? Anyway, I feel compelled to offer a mild spoiler for those who, like me, may have been concerned: “The Call of the Wild” is different in this regard.
Unlike Harrison Ford’s character, in whom Buck finds a friend, I am not a craggy old loner with a tender heart braving the wild of Alaska. But like both him and Buck, I feel displaced from where I had expected to be at this time in my life. I’m separated from my college “pack,” the college environment and even the state where I’d assumed I’d spend these months.
But I also didn’t expect the blessing of having this much time with my family and Rosie. We spend hours in the living room watching movies together and cuddling with Rosie. My mom and I take her for walks, and she sleeps on my bed while I work.
From a biblical point of view, of course, animals can never replace the companionship of fellow humans. After creating Adam, God said that it was not good for him to be alone, though he had inherited a world full of amazing and beautiful creatures. A pet does not replace our need to love and be loved by others created with that ability in the image of God. Yet the loyalty and trust of any other creature over whom He has given us dominion is not something to be taken lightly.
I will unabashedly admit that the ending of “The Call of the Wild” made me cry. I looked over at Rosie curled up on her blanket and thought about the blessing she’s been these past several weeks. She doesn’t pull a sled, carry mail or try to alpha a pack like Buck, but she shares a unique bond with my family that we would fight to defend.
I don’t think you need to own a pet to experience some of their joys. I’m convinced that the popularity of pets’ Instagram accounts is not just due to the cuteness of the animals; it’s because we’re touched by the bond between them and their owners. When our house was empty of animals after our previous dog passed away from cancer, I still derived a sense of joy from observing how others care so deeply for their pets, who give few practical returns besides their trust and loyalty. (Also, shout-out to Buster the Bulldog, whose slobbery, goofy presence in McAfee helped me get through missing having a dog during freshman year.)
Right now, that may be a balm to a lonely spirit, to see that pets, who don’t have a clue what’s going on in the world right now, are still their quirky, charming, trusting selves.
So hug your dog. Cuddle your cat, your ferret, your guinea pig or your other small and furry companion. Hang out with your gecko or your bird or your turtle or your fish. If you don’t have a pet, take a walk in a park to see some dogs, or set out some birdseed and watch for a while. We have limited opportunity to interact with each other right now, but we also have the chance to appreciate the other beautiful creatures God has given us to care for and coexist with in this space and time.
Photo by Naomi Mengel
