A Spiritual Lesson from a Dog Bite

Three years ago, I was visiting a friend and his wife in Flint Hill. I had taken my dog Dash with me. We were playing in a large field which was the territory of my friend’s dog, a 100-plus pound Cane Corso. As my friend, his wife, and I played with Dash in the field, the large dog who was chained to his area was barking in anger at Dash and me as we played in his territory. Near the end of our visit, I placed Dash in my car and went inside my friend’s house. The Cane Corso, who I knew from when he was a puppy, came running toward me, but instead of greeting me he sunk his teeth into the inside of my right thigh. His teeth ripped into my flesh all the way to my muscle. But I cleaned the wound, got some medical assistance, and it healed up.

About a month later I was complaining to my spiritual director about the associate pastor I was assigned to work with who was a total jerk, a climber, and one of the most obnoxious people I had ever met in my life. My spiritual director asked me, “Did that priest bite you in the leg?” A bit startled, I said, “No, of course not. Why would you say that?” My director said to me, “Your friend’s dog bit you in your leg, but you didn’t tell me that you were upset at him. But this associate who is mean to you is getting you upset.” I said, "Well yes, but like I said, the dog is just a creature, doing what it was evolved to do, responding to a particular situation, according to its breed and how it was raised.”

My director just looked at me for about ten seconds, saying nothing until I realized my words also described the priest I was working with: A creature, doing what it was evolved to do, responding to a situation, according to its genetic disposition and how it was raised.