Kopp Disclosure
(John 3:19-21)
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Kopper
“If you have men
who will exclude any of God’s creatures
from the shelter
of compassion and pity, you will have
men who will deal
likewise with their fellow men.”
Francis of Assisi
He
was a bad dog.
I
loved him.
As I
consider how God used him in my life, he will always be a metaphor for our
relationships with Him and His.
Really,
it was in his DNA.
Part
Poodle and Cocker Spaniel.
Short
dog’s disease.
When
we decided to get a dog nearly ten years ago, I wanted something more, uh,
manly.
If
you don’t know what I mean, I can’t explain it to you.
Hint.
Growing
up in the coal-mining region of Northeastern Pennsylvania, it wasn’t too cool
for guys to admit, “I have a Poodle.”
I
didn’t want him.
I
didn’t make the trip to get him.
He
was for the rest of the family.
Of
course, the dog attached himself to me…immediately.
Whenever
the family came home, he would run past everyone to me.
He’d
lie down, roll on his back, and beg petting.
Then
when I sat down, he’d pester and pester and pester until I let him jump up on
my lap where he would alternate between sleeping and sitting up while staring
at me nose to nose.
I
fed him, took him to the vet, hung out with him, and let him take me for a walk
every day anytime between 3:30 – 4:30 a.m.
Prematurely
prostate, he had to, uh, go many other times during the night; usually in the
last minute or two of tied games on the dope box.
He
was a great watch dog; barking at fires across the street to wake us up to call
the police and fire station (two in his lifetime), neighbors, critters, guests,
wind shifts, leaves, and other imagined whatevers.
He
bit the hand that fed him; and I have a few scars on my hands that will stay
with me until we meet again.
Unfortunately,
he bit others.
Lots
of others.
A
very kind-hearted, gentle, competent, and loving vet told us to euthanize him
after our second appointment.
He
would have gone to wherever dogs go by the grace of God back then if it weren’t
for me.
I
said to the vet, “Is that it? We just
give up? If somebody bites us, we kill
him? I guess forgiveness and grace and
mercy and…”
I
was defensive for Kopper.
I
wanted to give a second chance to him.
If
we don’t try to get along and just distance and divorce and destroy, what hope
is there for…?
We
tried dog training from one of the best in the area.
He
flunked.
Bad
dog.
Can’t
change DNA.
Dogs
aren’t familiar with John 3.
He
had many, many, many chances.
Finally,
everything seemed to be catching up with him.
Throat
problems.
Arthritis
in the legs.
Right
eye glazing over.
Canine
version of dementia.
Our
walks had become painful. He would stop
regularly and just stare off and around and turn aimlessly. Sometimes he would just stop; and on the day
that my gift was returned to his maker, just before we finished our longest
mile, he turned to me, stared at me for the longest time, and I could almost
hear a line from Gemma to Jax just before she met her maker, “It’s time.”
I
wept.
My
family often joked about Kopper being on the wallpaper of my cellular;
prompting me to reply back, “Well, he treats me better than you do. He always
wants me to pet him and always greets me with wagging tail and body gyrating
before he jumps up on to my lap for a nap or long stare into my eyes face to
face.”
He
was a bad dog.
He
bit the hand that fed him.
He
bit too many others along the way.
It
all caught up with him and he had to go home.
In a
world that increasingly wants to divorce and distance and destroy and is losing
any semblance of grace, mercy, forgiveness, and agape, I will miss him.
Kopper
loved unconditionally; and never held the past against me.
I
don’t experience that that much.
Hardly
at all.
Less
than 1% of all my relationships.
He
was a bad dog; but at least there were moments when…he loved me back with such
shameless and passionate and total affection that seems so rare among the
so-called higher species.
God,
I will miss him.
I am
so tired of the lack of love in our world.
I thank God for Kopper who taught me how to love even
those who have bitten the hands that feed ‘em.
When Kopper left life in my arms just after 5:00 p.m. on
December 31, 2015, I felt like the Tin Man: “Now I know I have a heart; because
I can feel it breaking.”
Early every morning, I would greet Kopper who was usually
up and waiting, “Kopper’s a good boy!”
It wasn’t true.
Kopper was a bad dog.
I loved him.
I will miss him.
Maybe I will remember what he taught me.
Maybe I can teach others what he taught me.
Maybe…
“I encountered a
completely unique case in my pastoral
counseling…there
was a knock at my door and a ten-
year-old boy came
into my room with something I had
requested from his
parents. I noticed something was
amiss with the boy
who is usually cheerfulness
personified. And soon it came out: he broke
down in
tears…’Herr Wolf ist tod.’
Then he cried and
cried…
He told me how the
dog died and how everything
is lost now. He played only with the dog, each
morning the dog
came to the boy’s bed and
awakened him – and
now the dog was dead.
Then suddenly his
wrenching crying became very quiet
and he said: ‘But
I know he’s not dead at all…His
spirit is now in
heaven, where it is happy…
Will I see Herr
Wolf again?’
There I stood and
was supposed to answer him yes or no.
‘Look, God created
human beings and also animals,
and I’m sure He
also loves animals. And I believe
that with God it
is such that all who loved each
other on earth
will remain together with God,
for to love is
part of God.’
You should have
seen the happy face on this boy.
‘So then I’ll see
Herr Wolf again when I am dead,
then we can play
together again.’
After a few
minutes, he said:
‘Today I really
scolded Adam and Eve;
if they had not
eaten the apple,
Herr Wolf would
not have died.’
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