My Little Dog
“Glory be to God for dappled things—“
(“Pied Beauty,” Gerard Manley Hopkins)
The man stood before a pillar of brilliant fiery light in a grassy meadow. The man could barely look at the light, it was so intense. When the man tried to look up, the intensity dimmed enough for him to see what seemed to be the outline of a figure within. A voice came from the light: “Who are you?” it said. “What do you desire here?”
Terrified, the man spoke, softly, barely above a whisper. “My name is John, John Delacourt.”He hesitated: “I was outside looking for my little dog Simon when, I don’t know, something happened. I can’t quite remember.” He shuddered slightly.
“Your dog has been dead for a year and three months,” said the voice from the burning light.
“What? That’s impossible,” cried the man. “I was looking for him just a minute ago. He ran out of my yard and across the street. Someone left the gate open. I was just going after him.”
The man looked at the light before him, now an intense flame, a burning figure of a tall giant being of some sort, with wings, definitely not human. John backed away from the flames, shaken and stunned.
“What are you?” the man tried to ask, though the words died on his lips.
“A seraph,” said the voice from the now all-consuming flame, “your angelic host.”
The man stumbled further back, away from the burning creature. “A seraph? No! I don’t understand! I just wanted my little dog,” he said, his voice barely a whisper. “He’s a little dachshund, a silver-dappled dachshund. He’s ten and a half years old; he’s all I have.”
The firm voice from the fiery winged creature said, “The little dog died three years ago. You died in your sleep a year and nine months ago. What do you desire?” The seraph’s question demanded an answer, but the man could scarcely think.
“What? No! No! That can’t be true! I was just out looking for my little dog.” He backed further away from the creature, stumbled again and fell down. The ground was hard, but the grass was relatively soft and somewhat cushioned his fall. He pushed himself up with his hands and briefly thought about running. The flaming creature had not moved. Ashamed of himself and full of self-pity, he started to cry.
“Where am I?” he asked at last, wiping his eyes and looking at the winged creature of fire and light.
“This is the beginning of Heaven or Hell,” said the deep fiery voice. “The little dog was a gift for you, for a time and a time and a time and a half, but never yours to keep forever. We have him now, as we have all things. What do you desire?”
The man couldn’t think. He desired his little dog. “My little dog,” he said weakly, uncertainly. The man’s throat was so dry; he needed water; he had a terrible thirst. “Water,” he managed to croak out barely above a whisper.
The burning figure quickly responded, “There is a stream flowing down from that distant hill: there is an olive tree beside the stream, off to your right. You may quench your thirst there, if you so desire.”
The man looked and saw a stream in the distance with a green olive tree beside it. The water glistened in the light and looked inviting.
“Shall we go?” said the flaming seraph.
“Can’t I just go by myself?” gasped the man.
“No. You are my task and I must fulfill it. I will go with you until you decide.”
“All right,” the man shuddered. “I really need water.”
Just then the man looked down and found himself beside the clear-flowing stream. He hadn’t taken a step. The fiery being stood off to the side. The water sparkled in the light and looked delightful. The man knelt beside the water under the shadow of the olive tree growing nearby; he cupped his hands and drank. The water was truly cool and sweet. He discovered his thirst was quenched. He rose to his feet, turned to face his fiery companion, and saw that he was suddenly alone in the meadow.
He looked wildly around; then off in the distance he saw what appeared to be a small dark dog with a second figure walking beside it; both were heading toward the hills from whence came the water. The man turned toward the hills and began quickly to follow the distant figures.
“That was always what was meant to be,” said the deep fiery voice that filled the air around him as he began to walk.
LES
LORD, save my life for the sake of your name; in your justice, lead my soul out of distress.
Psalm 143: Grail Edition; 7th Penitential Psalm
