At least three times in the past few days, while typing “dog,” I’ve typed “god.”
No, I don’t have dyslexia. I doubt it is a Freudian slip. I’ve been typing since 10th grade. I know how to spell. But somewhere, deep inside my subconscious, there is a kernel of truth in this recurring typographical error.
Maybe you’ve transposed the same letters in the same way. Or thanked your dog for leading you to a revelation. Or put your faith in his nose. While in the field with him, perhaps you had an epiphany. Or simply hoped – prayed – he would hold that bird while you huffed and puffed up the hill to his point.
I’m not advocating you abandon your current spiritual beliefs. Nor do I equate a dog (even a staunch, finished wirehair) with a Supreme Being.
But don’t you think our hunting partners have many admirable qualities? More importantly, don’t hunting dogs bring out the best in us?
Amen to that.