Obadiah the Golden Beagle

Every time I stand under a clear night sky, I’m reminded of when Obie was a puppy. He was a rescue that we adopted when he was a few weeks old; beagle and golden retriever mix according the woman we met up in Blacksburg. Before we even set eyes on him, his name was always going to be Obadiah. The joke was that EA would not let me name any of our kids after minor Old Testament prophets so I would at least get to name our pets things like Obadiah and Haggai.

We were living in my grandparents’ basement apartment at the time. While Grandma was fine with it, I am still kind of surprised that my Granddad consented to us bringing a puppy into the house. Looking back, it’s one of those thousand understated ways in which he has told me he loves me.

But back to the night sky. When Obie was a puppy, we had to house train him. Many a night, I would be awakened by the sound of his little puppy whimpering. I would throw on a hoodie and take him into the backyard to wait for him to use the bathroom. Sometimes it would take him a long time. I can still see what now seems like his impossibly tiny puppy form sniffing around in the moonlight, digging in the sandbox, and barking at the neighbor dogs. I would sing hymns and pray out loud to pass the time. As much of a pain as it was to get out of bed to take a dog out to poop and pee, I really came to appreciate our late nights together.

We would move and have a kid then another kid and move again. Obie was our constant companion throughout. He was so protective of EA when she was pregnant. He used to cuddle with her on the couch all the time. Or he would lay his head in my lap as we watched TV. When the boys came along, he learned quickly that would drop food from their high chairs and so he would sit in the kitchen and watch them like a hawk in wait for them to miss their mouths. I laughed a few weeks ago when he did the exact same thing to our infant niece as she was eating dinner.

When I was in seminary, Obie was my work and study companion. He would often sit in my office during those long nights of writing research papers. When I moved to Nashville three months before EA and the boys, Obie came with me. In a lot of ways he was the tether to my family and up-to-then lifelong South Carolina home during those often lonely transitional months. Whenever he laid his head on my lap or I heard him breathing in my room, I felt a little less alone.

This weekend I was on a ski retreat with my youth. I grabbed my phone to take a picture with some of my guys on the ski lift. Then I noticed that EA had sent me a message. She and the boys were fine, but she needed me to call. She was crying. Obie was sick. An autoimmune disorder was causing his body to attack itself and they weren’t sure how long he was going to make it. The boys were really upset and concerned because I didn’t know. I stood on top of that ski slope and tried to hold back tears.

When I got back on Sunday, we all went over to EA’s parents. He has lived with them the last few years, because there isn’t room for him where we live. He wouldn’t get to run and play as much. Just as he has been a good companion for me, he seems to have been a good companion to EA’s dad. Even though we knew he was in the best place, Jim and I often talked about how we wish that Obie could live with us.

We sat down in another backyard under another clear night sky and we held our boys and cried together. I remembered those nights when he was a puppy. And as I watched him sniff around in that backyard—twelve years older, heavily panting and shaking—I wanted to sing. But the words couldn’t come out. So I just followed him around like I used to when I was waiting for him as a puppy. The boys said goodbye to him and we went home.

This morning EA and I said goodbye to one of my favorite creatures who ever walked this earth. We cried and told him we loved him and how much we would miss him. We sat on the floor with him until the very end; stroking his golden fur like we had a thousand times before. I don’t think I fully understood how hard it would be to say goodbye to him until I finally had to.

I have never given much thought to the afterlife of pets. But I like to believe that if heaven is a place full of more love than we can imagine then we will be surrounded by those whose presence have filled our lives with love; all creatures of our God and king. I hope I can follow him around again one day and rub his ears with his head in our lap. At the very least, he will live on while I’m here because I will remember our dear golden beagle every time I stand under a clear night sky.