Bishop

My husband is avoiding a phone call. One, I myself do not have the emotional fortitude to make. "I'll tell her in person," he said. "Her" is Olivia; the big secret is that Bishop, our goofy, sweet, smelly-jowled "housedog" and faithful companion is gone. Shortly after 5:30 this evening (Wednesday) we had to euthanize him. For weeks he'd been lethargic, not acting himself for days; suddenly, he'd bounce back to his former lively demeanor, only to return to lethargy. We tweaked food and medication; we searched for foreign bodies in the yard (Bishop was a bottom-feeder. He would eat anything he could. We thought, perhaps, he'd gotten into something he shouldn't). The last week or more, we'd noticed a distinct change in his gut -- a bloat. It seems, Bishop had developed a mass on his spleen which ruptured and he was slowly bleeding to death on the inside. Surgery was not an encouraging option; merciful sleep was.

People sometimes make way too much of their pets, and others -- a lot of Christians, sadly -- minimize the effect they have on our lives and our health. Bishop was not my son; he never held the same value to me as any of my children, but Bishop was never without incredible, unique and inestimable worth. He anticipated my movements about the house and followed me to a fault -- his osteoarthritis was aggravated by his constant activity. He was a beautiful animal -- inside and out; I couldn't help but marvel at God's immense love, creativity and intelligence in creating such a beast. Bishop's loyalty was unlike any I've experienced in another pet. In fact, when his original owner returned for a visit one day, Bishop "protected" me -- fiercely! On another occasion, I had a "dream" I was being hunted. I could feel the breath of my pursuer's black horse on the back of my neck; I began calling out, "Jesus. Jesus." And just as my pursuer disappeared, Bishop let out a single, loud bark in the middle of the night. I've come to believe it wasn't a dream after all, but a spiritual attack; and Bishop was fully aware of something in the room. I believe animals have a relationship with their Creator -- not as mankind is enabled to have, of course, but God speaks to them and uses them today as He did long ago.

Bishop was part of God's blessing in my life. His presence and his happy wiggling upon seeing me brought an instant smile to my heart. He developed such a relationship with Scott, it brought me joy to see them together. It was because of Tinkerbell's intense dislike of him so many years ago, I began walking in order to tire them and reduce aggression; our walks were good for my health and made us local "celebrities." It was on one of our walks that we first met my friend, Annette; she recommended Resurrection Life Church -- a recommendation that has changed my life and Scott's as well. And Olivia? Well, Bishop loved Olivia like a good dog loves his girl. He was the only pet permitted to enter the inner sanctum of her room or share her blanket.

Bishop was a picture of God's mercy toward me. Several weeks ago, God made it clear to me that the lives of our pets were drawing to a close. Tinkerbell, the slow and steady, will most likely continue to age gracefully and exit quietly. Bishop lived with all he had; I knew he would go fast and go hard. I began those discussions with Scott. On the outside, he refused to prepare; he railed against the death of our "Big Head" and said he would take whatever measures to keep him. I called on my prayer warrior friends. I truly believed we had been called upon to rescue Bishop (and he to rescue us), but that ministry was nearing it's end -- God had other plans. I asked my friends to pray that whatever happened, whatever turn life took, Scott and I would be in agreement, that no dog or situation would cause division. When we took Bishop to the vet this afternoon, Dr. Kwon made it clear any probable diagnosis was invasive and expensive. When diagnostics were complete, we were left with only two courses for action; one was uncomfortable and onerous with little hope of success. The other, the course we chose. And that was God at work. Removing the doubt. Doing the heavy lifting. Bringing all things into agreement. Mercy. For us all.