Dogs and a Humane Society
Unitarian Universalist Church of Muncie
January 13, 2002
© 2001 Rev. Thomas M. Perchlik

READINGS

"Village Dogs" –Michael Waters
(This poem seems to be about a man and his dog, but ends up evoking other relationships.)

"The Dogs of Zimmer" – Paul Zimmer
(In this poem the man’s dogs reflect a part of himself.)

The tether of the aeons holds them.
there is order and habit in their love.
But sometimes they turn on each other
In frustration, snarling and flashing teeth.
On moonlit nights they grow restless,
Hearing things they cannot see.
they chew on pillows, wet the rugs.

A busy man should have perfect dogs,
But Zimmer's dogs go flick, flick, flick,
Moaning and thumping the floorboards.
They tongue his hand in the night
And make him get up to pee.

Sometimes when he unchains them,
Thy whisk away before he can call
Them back. He does not know
Where they go or what they do.
He spends hours wistfully calling them,
Imagines how they snuffle post holes,
Raise their dingy hinders to great stones
Or tunnel into ancient graves.

But always when it seems worst,
That they have gone wild into the woods,
Joining packs to overrun the suburbs,
It's flick, flick, flick outside his windows,
And Zimmer opens to seem them smiling.
The wild lights in their eyes grown dim,
They bang the doorway with their tails.

"Old Dog" – Nancy B. Wall
(On the impact of aging upon relationships and identity)

When her rabies tag arrived tin the mail
I tossed it on the kitchen counter.
She won't jump the wall
Or jerk the leash from my hand and bolt.

Years ago she disappeared on our morning walk
An elegant black streak on the first white-hot day of summer
Lured up a hill from the arroyo
by a deer, a rabbit, the irresistible, dizzying scent of freedom.
That night, certain the desert had claimed her
I struggled to let go
But at dawn, their coat matted, trailing cactus,
She rolled into the kitchen when I opened the door.
Grinning, she drained her water dish and collapsed on the tile
To sleep off her foolishness.

This morning she staggers to her feet, rear end listing oddly,
And hangs back, though we walk only to the end of the street.
She cannot see the rabbit dart directly in front of her
From its cover of rock and desert broom,
Does not respond to the repeated yelp
Of the alarm of the neighbor's car.

At home again, I pick up her tag and work the stiff metal ring apart
Forcing it onto her collar
As if a simple act of will, a talisman
Can hold back time.

SERMONS

I used to be a cat person. I still admire their quiet graceful beauty, the sleek way they move, the calm and self-composure they seem to embody. When in High school I had a poster on one wall, the painted image of the face of a housecat on a deep blue background. Its green eyes, the wisps of long white fur off the ears, and the little "M" on its forehead made it look almost exactly like my cat Dusty. I was very fond of Dusty; I made toys for him to play with as a kitten and loved when he would sit by me as I read on a lazy afternoon. While I was away at college he died of feline leukemia. I have always regretted leaving him behind and I longed to live with a cat again. But then my wife became allergic to cats. And then came that family meeting where we all sat around and discussed the idea of getting a dog. I did not like dogs. My idea of them was perfectly caught by Richard Adams in his book "Watership Down" where Elarairah makes a rubber nose and rubs in the most disgusting things he can find in order to convince Rowsby Woof to go and abase himself before the great "Queen Dripslobber". Dogs also attacked me a few times, when I was a paperboy. So, I was the lone dissenting vote against getting a dog. Both times we have had this meeting I have just said "no" to dogs.

Over the years my image of dogs as noisy, slobbery, messy and obnoxious creatures has not changed. However, I have slowly come to find myself to be fond of the beasts. Their energy and joy for life is contagious. They force me to get daily exercise, and more importantly, I have learned something from my dogs that applies to all relationships. It is possible to communicate and even get along with those others who seem too different, or too difficult, to be worth the trouble. Each of us, perhaps at work, perhaps in our families, perhaps in a marriage, perhaps even here in church, may find our self in relationship with someone who lives in a manner that is contrary to what makes us comfortable. Because we are all interconnected it is essential that we learn how to get along with such people, how to make peace with those who are difficult to be with, to listen carefully to who they are, and to speak clearly with them.

The poet Joseph Duemer, in his book Dog Music, wrote that, "Dogs, perhaps because we have brought them halfway over toward the human, can sometimes take us halfway back to the urgencies of the animal body, the urges of the animal mind. It can only do us good..." He goes on to note "American poets have adopted the dog as a kind of heraldic metaphor for certain virtues." Of course they have their vices as well, but our relationships with them inevitably lead us to the ethical and even moral dimensions of our existence. Our relationships with them can serve as the text for a theology of relationship, a philosophy of engagement. Even for those of us who have no dogs their image can evoke a certain quality of relationship, of the healing and saving power of friendship, of peacemaking and the essentials of forming a more humane society.

Dogs have this power because both they and human beings are deeply social creatures. Who we are is determined by our relationships. Even those people who strive to be different and uniquely individual, perhaps by coloring their hair an unnatural color, or by putting pieces of metal or tattoos all across their faces, are trying to communicate with others. Their décor says "notice me, I am here!" And they know that the people who are willing to talk to them despite their exterior are more likely to accept them for who they are within. Or at least will be willing to listen. Relationships shape what and who we are and by the bonds of relationships we have shaped dogs, made them what they are. Or, perhaps they have merely changed in order to change us enough to let them into our homes and lives.

The art of taxonomy, the scientific naming of animal species is interesting to me. It often reveals what we think of certain creatures, what our relationship with them is. Dogs used to be called Canis Familiaris, which means "friendly dog". Wolves are known as canis lupus, or wolf dog. But after recent biological and genetic study dogs have been renamed canis lupus familiaris. In other words, all the dogs we know, from little lap dogs to Great Danes are descended from wolves. No one knows exactly how it happened but at some point wolf pups or perhaps some lower ranked wolves found that they could get better meals by becoming part of human societies as scavengers and partners. Rudyard Kipling tells one version of the story when Wild Dog asks Woman if he can have some of those scrap bones from her cooking. She replies that he can have the bones and a little more, if he will help her husband hunt, and guard their home at night.

The first written records of dogs helping humans date from about 4500 years ago, but the association is thousands of years older. Ancient breeds of dogs include salukis and basenjis, which exist today almost exactly as they appear in carvings and paintings from ancient Egypt.  In the latest issue of National Geographic (January 2002) there is mention of a 12,000-year-old grave in which a dog and human were buried together. Some have even proposed that the rather sudden extinction of Mastodons at the end of the last ice age was a result of the effective hunting team that dogs and humans formed as far back as 50,000 years ago. All in all dogs are generally considered to be the first domesticated animal.

And we have formed a very successful partnership. It has been good to them. For example, the National Geographic article noted that as wolves have dwindled in population, almost to extinction in some places, the U.S. dog population has grown to more than 68 million. Beyond adding their hunting, and fighting skills to our lives dogs have been good for us in other ways. Research has shown that dog companionship improves the health and well being of their human owners.

To form helpful relationships is a universal need. It is the source of our wholeness and completion. But it is not always easy to form healthy relationships. Some people are better at listening than others. They can look into your face, hear but a few sentences and know exactly how you are feeling. Others have trouble understanding what is going on in your heart even when you hit them over the head with it. Some can pour out their feelings in a moment. Others struggle to tell you what they are thinking or feeling. However, communication is a skill that we all can develop and strengthen. Meanwhile dogs teach us, or remind us, that not all communication is verbal.

Speaking clearly.

I have seen people who don't know how to communicate well with dogs. They call out "Come here, come here" over and over again while chasing the dog all over the neighborhood. The dog obviously enjoys the game, knowing that "Come Here" means "keep running until I can hit you and drag you inside". Sometimes people use complex sentences to talk to dogs. They don't understand complex sentences. Simple words, direct, and honest work best. Good communication begins with listening to the other, but just as important is speaking clearly one's own needs and desires. And so it is with humans. Sometimes we loose awareness of what we personally want in the midst of seeking what others want. Or when we get around to trying to tell people what we need and feel we couch the words in careful language. Instead it is possible to speak clearly without having to insult another, we can say what we want, and if there is trust in the relationship, expect the other to work on our behalf.

And how we communicate our desires effects all the relationships we share in. My wife told me of something she saw while out walking one day. A man was standing in his yard yelling at his dog. He said something like "Get in your stupid butt in the house this instant!" There was also a small child, not much more than a year old, standing in the doorway of the house watching him. After some time the dog finally relented and sulked into the house. As the dog passed by, the child raised a juice bottle and hit him on the head. How we speak to others can undermine all the relationships around us. We need to learn to speak clearly and directly.

Furthermore, some people are misguided in their desire for relationships. They seek power over another, whether it is with a dog or human. But the greatest power is always power with. The best relationships are mutual ones. If we seek to form such relationships we will become peacemakers, and a deepening of community will come to be around and in us. As the ancient Rabbi said "Blessed are the peacemakers for they shall be known as children of God".

The root of communicating well is knowing one's audience. And knowing who we are speaking too requires that first we listen. Recently I heard a radio preacher complaining about how, in her words "What was once an abomination is now an accepted life style." What struck me was how she has never listened to others as I have. Her words reflected no experience of ever listening to a gay or lesbian or bisexual person who was able to share how destructive the cultural view of sexuality has been, or how they have struggled to find dignity and love in healthy relationships. Listening carefully we find what has always been true and good and beautiful remains unchanged, it is only our own self image that needs adjusting. For another example I mention Rodger Plunk, who is an international mediator and author of The Wandering Peacemaker that recounts his experiences and philosophy of being a mediator. He speaks of what he calls a "Global democratization" a transformation of the world where more and more it is not great kings and powers that are directing and determining people's lives, but individuals and small communities. "Underlying this change is the deeper spiritual force that feeds all life. If we are to overcome the world's seemingly insurmountable problems, we must reconnect with this force... in some way explore spiritual solutions to old problems. My work as a peacemaker is very much connected to my spiritual life..." After describing his trust in a presence that he believes is forcing great transformation throughout the world he tells of an encounter with a Taliban official before the US war in Afghanistan. He writes, "The mediator's first priority is to listen, and try to understand. The second priority is to make suggestions that may take root and sprout into policy... to look for common ground" He understands that he is not preventing all war, but he also knows that he is planting seeds of peace, and helping that transforming spirit to be present and grow, bit by bit. So the speaking clearly is essential, but listening precedes it.

Listening carefully to the needs of the other, and then meeting those needs is the first task of building a trusting and mutual relationship. When Checkers used to get out in our front yard by swiftly sneaking around my legs I would chase after her, afraid that some child might be frightened by her teeth and energy, or some car would not see her until too late. But she never came. She would whisk past me until I followed, and then would wander the neighborhood. Finally I would lose her trail and return home to wait for her return. But then I realized how much she loved taking walks with me. So I would get her leash and say "Walk". And she would run up and sit to be leashed. I never failed to take her on a walk then, though sometimes it was a very short one. She quickly understood that if she did what I wanted I would let her do some of what she wanted. In meeting her needs and mine together we found a peace.

Now I know there are difficulties. My dog Wiggles is harder to communicate with because he is also aware of Checkers. For him taking a walk can be a competitive sport. The goal is to be the first to find the next new smell. Wiggles is listening to Checkers as well as me, and so as a result he doesn't listen as well to me. And I know that human needs and desires are far more complicated than those of dogs. As Mark Twain wrote, "If you pick up a starving dog and make him prosperous he will not bite you. The is the principle difference between a dog and a man." I know there are some people who will never listen in return, or who will betray a trust. But we must seek to live by the methods of peacemaking, by that presence or spirit that guides the work of those who seek justice and true community. We must do so for our own well-being and integrity. And, perhaps, if we seek to listen and speak clearly we may learn so much about our own selves that that knowing might change us. And that is the greatest key to learning to live well with others. The writer Gunilla Norris said,

"I wonder how different life would be for me if I could be as lacking in self-doubt and self-judgment as [my dog] Putnam. His whole being demonstrates an assumption that he is a lovable creature, a deserving creature, and an enjoyable one. His fat, aged self simply squirms with the sacred knowledge that he is one of God's creatures. [Sometimes] such direct light makes me turn my eyes away. To act as if one had the total endorsement of the universe behind one's particular existence would be extraordinary! I hedge my bets by offering to others only what I myself want, or by restricting my requests for love and help to those I know will not reject me out of hand. I am oh, so careful, whereas I could, with a Putnam like trust, meet the world with a joyful, natural wag."

I mentioned Gary Kowalski's book a few months back titled The Souls of Animals. He wrote, "Everyone needs a spiritual guide: a minister, rabbi, counselor, wise friend, or therapist. My own wise friend is my dog. He has deep knowledge to impart. He makes friends easily and doesn't hold a grudge. He enjoys simple pleasures and takes each day as it comes. Like a true Zen master he eats when he's hungry and sleeps when he's tired. He's hot hung up about sex. Best of all, he befriends me with an unconditional love that human beings would do well to imitate."

And if we can befriend, domesticate and transform Wild Wolves into lap dogs, then surely we have the beginnings of the power to do this with human beings. Dogs teach us how to befriend people who are very different from ourselves.

If we listen carefully to the needs of others and help meet those needs; if we speak clearly and forcefully our own needs, and expect, perhaps with a Putnam like trust, for them to be fulfilled. Then we will, person by person, form all around us into a more, just, equitable, compassionate and truly humane society.