Texas Style

rowing Up Catholic in a Small Texas Town: The Book of Genesis (According to Me)

In the Book of Genesis, God created Earth, all the creatures, and man and woman, in six days; and then rested on the seventh day to appraise his work.

I think that after looking down on all the animals running around having fun, He became sad because he couldn’t connect with these four-legged creatures or the two-legged hairy ones like the apes. So He decided to create humans, who would be more like Him — hence Adam and Eve. God was so overjoyed at the result, that He gave them a paradise and told them not to worry about a thing, just have fun. Everything was going great until one day, they asked God to back off a little and give them some space. God was confused for the first time.

“What do you mean?” He asked.

One of them, I don’t know which, said, “We’d just like to do things our way. Free will, you know?”

God was aghast, but being kindhearted, He granted their wish. Then all hell broke loose. He couldn’t take back his gift, but He needed to do something to remedy the situation. Things in Eden were turning dark quickly. He got the idea to create one more creature, one that exuded love, patience, kindness; one that would keep priorities straight. So He created THE DOG to teach us unconditional love and how to be better humans.

I believe that dogs have another advantage over us humans. When we die, we have to spend time in Purgatory (see my prior post: The Lowdown on Limbo) before we go to Heaven. Then we have to stand in a long line and deal with St. Peter before he opens the Pearly Gates to us.

Dog playing in the park.

I picture St. Peter with his clipboard scrutinizing all the people-souls, sighing, shaking his head, rubbing his neck, and thinking it’s going to be another long, long day. Then he sees a dog in the line:

“Hi, Buddy, what are you doing back there, big guy?” says Peter. “Come on up; no need to stand in line.” Buddy prances in. “Turn right at The Palace. There’s a great park with lots of ropes so big dogs like you can play tug-of-war without those damn — I mean — cute little chihuahuas getting in your way.”

A few minutes later, he spots another dog.

“Scooter, come up here. You’re a fluffy little thing. We have a box with your name on it. It’s full of your favorite treats: shoes, socks, dirty T-shirts. Chew away. You don’t have to worry about colon blockage and being rushed to the vet.”

Then another dog.

“Buckethead! Walk on in. Your friend Jenny is digging a nice hole over by the creek. Remember, not to sniff her butt. She doesn’t like that. Oh, and feel free to change your name.”

Another one.

“Oh, my word. Lucy, come up here and let me take that scratchy tutu off of you. In Heaven, you get to play naked.”

And finally, working dogs. Those that rescue people at disaster sites. Those that sniff out illegal drugs. And the therapy dogs whose duty is to help humans deal with their problems or alert them when they’re about to have a seizure. Those dogs don’t even have to walk across the rainbow bridge, they just float into Heaven on a cloud.

Message to God: please send more dogs!



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Kathleen Kaska

Kathleen Kaska

Metaphor Writing Coach. Author of the Sydney Lockhart mysteries and the Kate Caraway mysteries. I blog about, “Growing Up Catholic in a Small Texas Town.”