Goodbye, old friend

By Mike Langlois, contributing writer

Recently, we made the heartbreaking decision to put Cooper, our long-time family dog, to sleep after severe arthritis left him unable to function on his own. Though he was “just a pet,” 14 years of unconditional love through every season of our lives had made him something much more — a true member of the family.

In 2012, we moved from the city to a small rural town in hopes of giving our children a simpler life. Our old Victorian house felt perfect, but it was missing one thing: a dog. Wanting to adopt a rescue, we visited the local S.P.C.A. Unsure of exactly what we were looking for, we did our best to describe it. Then, our 6-year-old daughter spotted Cooper, a solid black Boxer-Labrador mix pacing excitedly in his cage. A staff member explained that his previous owner had kept him confined for days at a time, leaving him anxious. She warned that his size and boundless energy might make him a poor fit for a young family, and noted that several families had already returned him. At her suggestion, we took him behind the facility to observe him more closely. He was full of wild enthusiasm, yet gentle with our daughter — and in that moment, the two instantly clicked.

Throughout the years, the bond between family and dog would evolve and grow stronger. We quickly realized that Cooper was an extraordinary animal. He possessed a remarkable combination of the muscular, explosive power of a Boxer and the fluid, tireless endurance of a Labrador Retriever. We witnessed many displays of his strength and skill, from jumping effortlessly over a 4-foot picket fence to retrieve a tennis ball, to leaping gracefully to catch a frisbee mid-air. With his wagging tail, playful spirit, and protective devotion to children and family, he became a neighborhood favorite. Cooper demonstrated incredible loyalty to my wife and me, remaining close throughout our daily routines, including long walks and hours spent working in the yard. When I traveled for business for weeks at a time, my wife would assure him on arrival day, “Mike’s coming home!” Cooper would patiently wait, unflinching on the front porch, gazing down the street until he spotted my truck. There came loud barks, jumps, and an enthusiastic display of affection, as I would say to him, “Good boy! You’re a good Coop!”

The loss of a pet can bring a surprising depth of grief. That was certainly true for me, and it led me to ask a question I had never seriously considered: Do dogs — especially those we love so deeply — go to heaven? The Catholic Church has no official teaching that they do, since animals do not have rational, immortal souls and therefore cannot freely choose God. Still, there are a few things to consider before assuming our relationship ends with them forever. In Genesis, God’s care appears to extend to all creation, including the animals He made. The very fact that God created the earth, along with the plants and animals, would suggest that He will not suddenly stop loving or caring for them in death. In the Book of Psalms, we find a call for animals to praise God alongside human beings, suggesting that all creatures have a place in the order of His glory. “Praise the Lord from the heavens … You wild beasts and all tame animals … Let the kings of the earth and all peoples … young men too, and maidens, old men and boys, praise the name of the Lord” (Psalm 148). And Pope Francis, in his encyclical Laudato Si’, has offered this comforting reflection: “Eternal life will be a shared experience of awe, in which each creature, resplendently transfigured, will take its rightful place.” It is clear that we have a loving God, and if the presence of our deceased pets brings us joy at our own death, then I’d like to believe He will have no objections.

In the months leading to Cooper’s passing, we prayed for the wisdom to give him the quality of life that he deserved. I believe the Holy Spirit answered that prayer by guiding us to a veterinarian who provided end-of-life care for Cooper in the comfort of our home. The night before he passed, my wife and daughter spent the night with him on the living room floor next to the warmth of the fireplace, which was Cooper’s favorite spot. The next morning dawned a beautiful, warm, and sunny spring day. Throughout the morning, each of us spent time with him, saying goodbye in our own way. In the afternoon, we sat with Cooper under the shade of a maple tree, petting him and offering words of praise. We treated him to vanilla ice cream, one of his favorite treats, which he eagerly devoured. When the time came, through our hugs and tears, we watched him drift into a peaceful sleep.

We are grateful for the quiet lessons that Cooper taught our family about devotion, joy, companionship, and unconditional love. Perhaps one day in the future, after we have passed from this world, he will excitedly greet us as we say, “Good boy! You’re a good Coop!”

Mike Langlois is the faith formation director for St. Augustine Knights of Columbus Council 7273 in Peru, New York. He is also the Upstate conference coordinator for evangelization and faith formation for the New York State Knights of Columbus, which encompasses the Buffalo, Rochester, Syracuse, and Ogdensburg dioceses. Local Knights of Columbus councils interested in fortifying the faith of their memberships, or offering column topic ideas, can contact him at [email protected].