I’m sorry to report that kind, faithful, and loving Jesse, the mostly golden rescue lab that Alice’s daughter Gretchen and her family in Chapel Hill have had for about 15 years, had to be put to sleep this afternoon.

Gretchen had called this morning to say they had found him unable to stand and breathing with difficulty a half-hour or so earlier, and she and Rob were about to take him to a nearby veterinary urgent care facility. It appeared he had suffered a stroke resulting, most likely, from the rupture of an internal tumor that their vet had diagnosed some months ago.

Thus, it wasn’t a complete surprise — at least for Gretchen, Rob, Alice, or me — that Jesse suddenly became ill. But surely it has been a shock for the kids – Jake, 10, and Lily and Finn, both 7. You see, for them, Jesse had always been part of the family, there when they were born and all along as they’ve grown: kind, gentle, dear old Jesse, long-enduring through all of the wonderfulness of happy and playful (and I mean really playful) children. There he was, taking it all in and enjoying every hopeful minute, I’m pretty certain.

So while there has been some preparation for what now has happened, at least for us adults; still, it’s hard, I’m finding. And I’m in need of my Resurrection faith and theology helping me, which they are. See, while some may say that my faith and theology have dissipated, or gone more to sugar, over the years, to me they have sharpened.

I now absolutely believe the Resurrection includes all Creation and all things and beings in it, human and otherwise. Our “glad heavenly reunion” will include one another and all whom we have ever loved, including Jesse. We will all be absolutely without all of the warts, blemishes, and frailties that have kept us separate from one another to some degree in this lifetime. And Jesse will be at the peak of his energy and loveliness, and without (forever without) the damned internal and external tumors that troubled him and finally did him in, in this dispensation.

Jesse, I believe, will also be at the great banquet table in the eternal kingdom (or monarchy, or nation, or “place,” or whatever the hell else you want to call it). In fact he’ll likely be under the table, as he’s always been, because dogs won’t be able easily to sit in chairs there either. He’ll be there, just like you and me, waiting patiently for another morsel of joy to come his way. And I’ll see him again, fully fit, firm, kind and faithful.