Some parishioners of mine suffered a terrible loss last night. I was at a meeting some 100 miles away when they called, and when I came home to the message, I just sagged with grief.

They had to put down their beloved pet, a dog named Maddy.

I met Maddy back before I was a doggie-mama, when I really wasn't sure how I felt about pets in general, and dogs who were tall enough to sniff you-know-where in particular. (Okay, actually I know how I felt and still feel about that one. I didn't like it.) Somehow I think Maddy had fun with my pet-ambivalence, heading straight towards me as soon as I came in the door, no matter how big the crowd I entered with. Eventually Maddy's mama taught me the signal for "I'll pet you if you stay off me", which was placing both arms across my chest in an X shape. Then of course, I was duty-bound to pet this big affectionate slobbery dog, but it was small price to pay for being spared the indignities of a wet nose where one did not belong.

Maddy became very ill very suddenly, requiring hospitalization and transfusions. The medicine that was tried only made her worse, and my parishioners made the painful decision to end Maddy's suffering. We prayed for Maddy on Sunday, and for her mamas, who sobbed all during worship.

I saw the grieving petless parishioners today. Maddy had been one woman's only pet in her entire lifetime. She kept saying "I'm still glad I got her, even though this hurts like hell." I thought about my own doggie, my first adventure in pet-parenting. If "Tanner the Wonder-Mutt" had not come into my life, I think a part of me that can cry with these women would have been way underdeveloped. I'm especially thankful for the way he has opened up my heart to this.

I am reminded of words a friend taught me, "Death is not too high a price to pay for living, nor pain too high a cost for loving."

Run free Maddy...