Saying Goodbye to Bishop

Last Christmas, my husband’s Uncle Charles sent me a book titled “Marley and Me” about a family dog who was an ill behaved, but much-beloved Labrador Retriever. As a dog lover, I read the book quickly, until the final chapters. It covered the wonderful escapades of a dog who won the hearts of his owners as they learned how to cope with his often “bad” behavior and as they added three children to their family. Marley was their family, their friend, and he had a good, long life, but…. As I read on, I could see the handwriting on the wall. This dog book would end with Marley dying, so I avoided reading the ending for awhile because I knew it would be a big boo-hoo for you-know-who. Still, I loved the book because, as a dog person, I will always have a dog, no matter how hard it is eventually to say good-bye.

Most of you know that one of my loves is a big yellow Golden Retriever named “Bishop” –named for United Methodist Bishop Ken Hicks. Over eight years, Bishop has been my “big buddy” and truly the smartest, most beautiful and loving dog I’ve ever known. When I write my sermons, our “Bishie” is under my desk. When I go to bed, Bishop is under the night stand. When I shower, he lays by the glass door. When I leave to go to work, Bishop’s head is stuck through the fence, waiting for me to come back home. When I grab a leash, Bishop is there grabbing the other end. He is always there. During the last few weeks of pregnancy, he was always near, those big brown eyes reassuring me “this too will pass.” I had begun to talk to him seriously about the new baby and to tell him how he would have to help me train the newest member of our family pack. After all, he did a great job training our youngest dog Dottie.

As I write this article, our baby boy Penn is almost one month old and thriving. Last weight check at the pediatrician he was over 11 pounds, and I think I’m getting carpal tunnel in my hands from holding him. Slowly, we’re establishing some routines of sleeping, eating and diaper changing with some play time and bath time in there too. We hardly know what life was like before Penn arrived, except that our dogs remind us--that steady consistency of affection and companionship that makes even the greatest changes in life—like a newborn—more durable at 3 a.m.

Our family lost some of that constancy this week. When I came back from the hospital, Bishop had lost more weight, more than his normal summer shedding, and it became clear to our vets that he had more than some back problems. He had a fast-growing cancer in his chest that after two weeks didn’t respond to chemo, filling his lungs. Yesterday my sister came and watched the baby, and Victor and I headed off to say good-bye to Bishop. We held him to the very end. It was really hard, but then he had always held on to me when I was hurting or times were tough. It was an honor.

Dear Friends, life and loving relationships are gifts of the Creator to be held and treasured. Life goes by so quickly, and we are most often so worried about the little things in life, the tedious things that don’t really matter. Bishop was named for one of my favorite Christians, one who observed once that “God spelled backwards is ‘dog.’” Bishop was a great source of grace, letting me be me, warts and all. Although I wish with all my heart that my big yellow dog was here to ease my new parent anxieties, he taught me much about love, acceptance and humor. May I pass those Christian qualities—yes, humor is a Christian attribute!--to my new son.

Love and peace,

Rev. Betsy