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June 24, 2009
Dog Days
As I said in my last post, I was away for the Solstice. I was a long way away in Thirsk. On the Saturday night we had a Midsummer Fire and at this fire, my friend who is madly into Jeanette Winterson at the moment, read a short story called Dog Days which had appeared in a Sunday mag the week before about how a dog had entered a persons life and warmed them into life.
“Love is not one thing, one kind….Love is chaos because it is bigger than any of the boxes it comes in……He was so tiny the day that we brought him home; he grew, and so did love. He stole my shoes, my cardigans, my pens, my gardening gloves, my string, my car keys, my heart. In return he gave me the sun. Running, running, running, running, running.”
In the story the dog was black. We got up early the next day – about 8 of us and went down to the river for a communion under the morning sun of the longest day. Apparently in Oxford it was a dull day but in Thirsk, the sun was warm and bright and barely a cloud. The birds – racket is the only word I could use, all weekend, singing their little hearts out. I had picked the spot so we could hear the noise of the water, which sends me anyway and knew we would have to just be unselfconscious as the dog-walkers walked by. Well in Thirsk there are a lot of them. I was not far into the first prayer when the Spirit came as a black spaniel and jumped into the river behind me. Later followed many other black dogs and quite a few other kinds too, all the way through. One of the dog walkers had her wellies on and got into the river with her dog and waded up it. We had sung a song and one woman walked past. She said she thought it was a baptism so put her dog on the lead. We started talking to her and she said that once the nuns in the place where we were staying had helped her at a difficult time in her life. Even now, every time she walks past she remembers their kindness and knows she’s being looked after. We carried on and just as I had finished giving out the bread and wine, a cheeky little border terrier bounced up. I am meant to dispose of the elements in a sacred way so I gave him half of the rest of the bread and then he sat down (obviously been told that if you want something you must sit and ask nicely) and looked up at me with the most melting pleading eyes and ears alert with excitement at the prospect of the other half of the bread, head slightly cocked. So I didn’t disappoint him.
As someone who calls my dog my spiritual director, it was the most wonderful communion. I was very glad my own dog wasn’t there. She’s a border collie and she wouldn’t have messed around with the river. She’d have been at that bread and swiped it before I would have seen her. She did this once with some wafers I’d put down just for a moment that I was about to take to some old people for their mid-week communion many years ago!! Communion was chaos because it was bigger than any of the boxes it normally comes in. Hooray! Thank you dog friends.
Posted by Tess at June 24, 2009 10:10 AM