Last summer, I decided I wanted another dog.
We already had a dog: our 7-year-old rescue, Lily. For whatever reason, I felt that I needed to save another dog from the local shelter. I went to the shelter only twice before bringing home Luke, an 8-month-old bluetick coonhound mix.
At first, Luke was nervous. I’m not sure he’d ever been inside a house. The night we brought him home, he fell asleep standing up because he wasn’t sure of his surroundings. It took him weeks to stop being terrified of my husband. He never did get over his fear of men in general. Visiting men were subjected to ear shattering baying until he was able to sniff them intensely and observe our body language to see if they were “OK.”
Luke eventually became comfortable in our home. He played wonderfully with Lily and our two children, Toby and Elinor. He was especially dear to me. During the time we had Luke, I was struggling with a number of things. He was my shadow and my comfort — always there to lay his head on my lap and never asking for anything in return.
I have felt the love of my Heavenly Father through the love of a dog many times in my life.
Watching Luke go from a thin, scared and mistreated dog to a trusting, loving and tender companion was an absolute pleasure. Unfortunately, the time we enjoyed with Luke was short. Due to several unexpected and untreatable medical problems (likely due to circumstances with his previous humans), we were forced to put Luke down less than a year after we adopted him.
At first, I thought I could protect my children by telling them Luke had been sent to a new home. I made up a legitimate-sounding reason why we couldn’t keep him and explained we had given him to a new family where he was happy — the old “running free on the farm” excuse.
To those of you who have a 4-year-old, you know this isn’t good enough.
For months, my daughter pestered me with endless questions about Luke’s new home and family. I was forced to come up with more elaborate details about this mysterious farm that was too far away to visit and the lucky family who had promised to care for Luke.
We rescued a cat from the shelter, hoping the cat would fill Elinor’s void and give her some kind of peace. Thankfully, there was an immediate, loving connection between Elinor and the cat. However, her questioning continued. The cat soothed the pain, but couldn’t fill the hole. Nothing could replace Luke in my heart, so of course the cat couldn’t replace him in Elinor’s.
Finally, there came a point where I realized I couldn’t keep it up anymore. I was tired of talking about it and even more tired of making my well-meant lie believable.
On a day when her questioning was especially persistent, I caved.
I told her the truth. At first she was hysterical. Her brother took it better, but we were all a mess that day. The grief I’d been hiding from my children came pouring out, and Elinor’s fresh grief made my own worse. The only thing I could do to stem the flow was to rely on the truth of the Resurrection.
We talked about how, when Jesus comes again, our family believes loved ones and precious pets will be made whole with their bodies. We'll see them again — from my sweet Misty, who was my truest friend when I was a child, to our spunky, snuggly Luke. We will be together again.
She took it as any child that has only a handful of years out of heaven would. She knew it was true as soon as I told her. Her tears stopped. A smile spread over her face. Now she talks cheerfully about how, when Jesus comes again, we will have our Luke back. She knows he is happy in heaven. Sometimes she says she misses him, but I can see a hope and faith shining behind that sadness.
The truth is what finally brought my children peace. It brought me peace, too. Now, more than ever, I feel grateful that our loved ones, both animal and human, will one day be made whole again.
“For all old things shall pass away, and all things shall become new, even the heaven and the earth, and all the fullness thereof, both men and beasts, the fowls of the air, and the fishes of the sea; And not one hair, neither mote, shall be lost, for it is the workmanship of mine hand” (Doctrine and Covenants 29:23-25).
Lauren Swinson is a writer, mother of two children, including one with special needs, and backyard homesteader. Her email is lauren.w.swinson@gmail.com.