John Nantz: A gift of grief

If you love a dog, or have ever loved a dog, then you know the smothering anxiety, the borderline panic attacks, the sheer terror of potential loss. Or, at least that’s my honest assessment of my own process. I’m not very good at grieving.

It’s just a dog, you might say. Well no, she’s imbued with the dignity of a family’s love — besides, she’s a living creation and carries a soul.

God gives us the dignity of His love. After all, He created the animal kingdom and all of nature for His glory and for Adam and Eve’s benefit. They were commanded to tend, love, and nurture what God had spoken into existence. What a mess we’ve made of it all. And, all of God’s creation suffers and groans for our fall. Romans 8 :19-23)

We took our five year old west German Shepherd West German Shepherd to the vet on Friday. She hasn’t been herself for the past few weeks, less spunk, and a change in breathing rhythm. We thought maybe she’d picked up a bug. So, we made an appointment with the vet and expected to leave with an antibiotic prescription — back to life as usual.

However, the worst news came from a chest Xray, ultrasound, biopsy, and biopsy. Our sweet Aspen was diagnosed with a very aggressive form of cancer, common to German Shepherds — hemangiosarcoma — and it seems to have metastasized to her lungs. As of this writing, she’s resting comfortably on a swath of carpet next to her bed. Aspen is a special dog, and that’s not just a cliche. Aspen’s eyes are bright and intelligent. She’s a perennial puppy and mischievous in a sweet, kind way.

She is obsessed with chasing butterflies. 

When she was chronologically a puppy we enrolled in a K-9 Good Citizenship class. She learned to sit, lay down, and stay, but only if there were no butterflies fluttering nearby. If her deep bronze eyes

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