By Matt Sieger
When our three children were growing up, our son Paul wanted a Boston Terrier. So I went online and found a shelter in Fresno, Calif. about a three-hour drive from our home in the San Francisco Bay Area, which had what they said was a Boston Terrier.
I was able to reserve the adoption with a $50 deposit. Paul and I then drove to the shelter and met Mugsy. To our great surprise, although he looked like a Boston Terrier, he was about three times the size. But we loved him right away and took him home.
When we stepped through the front door, the first thing my wife said was, “Wow! That’s a big Boston Terrier!” He promptly ran out into the backyard, scaled our fence, and landed on the corrugated roof of our neighbor’s shed. He could jump!
My son named him Mugsy, after Mugsy Bogues, the diminutive NBA basketball player who could jump a mile.
We did a bit of research and discovered that Mugsy was actually an Olde Boston Bulldogge. Helen Keller had one. Sometime in the early part of the twentieth century, the Olde Boston was bred down in size to the more manageable Boston Terrier.
We loved Mugsy. Like most Bostons, he was not terribly trainable, although he did somehow get his dog obedience diploma. He was very good at escaping out the front door. When he did, we would call after him. He would turn his head to look at us, then decide, “Nope, I’m just going to keep on going.”
One day he did that and ran up the block with me in hot pursuit. A young couple had just pulled into their driveway and the wife opened the passenger door, whereupon Mugsy jumped onto her lap. She was a good sport about it and. Mugsy, I should add, would never hurt a fly. If a burglar ever entered our home when we were away, I’m sure Mugsy would have shown him around the house.
One day when the kids were at school and my wife and I were at work, I got a phone call. A woman told me that Mugsy was loose on the street and chasing a bunch of kids on bicycles. We recovered our dog and brought him home, where we discovered our front window was broken. Mugsy had jumped up onto our reclining chair, which was next to the living room window. Apparently he rocked back and forth until the chair crashed through the window and he made his escape.
Every day I came home from work and opened the front door, Mugsy was there to greet me with his Frisbee in his mouth, expecting me to go to the backyard to throw it around for him.
A sad time came when Mugsy, just seven years old, began to slow down and nestle next to me more than usual for comfort. Paul took him to the vet and learned that cancer had spread throughout Mugsy’s body. So Paul agreed to have our beloved pet put down.
He was cremated and the vet had his ashes put in a special urn with Mugsy’s name. I went to the vet to get the urn, and as I stepped into my car, I was overcome with emotion and burst into tears.
As I drove out of the parking lot onto the street, what should I see on the sidewalk but a man walking a dog who was the spitting image of Mugsy! Same coloring, same size, jumping up with joy at his master’s side.
I must point out that there are not many Olde Boston Bulldogges around, let alone one happening to appear right after my moment of grief. Whether I was seeing an angelic dog and angel owner, or experiencing a great earthly coincidence, I believe that God was showing me that when I pass, I will be reunited with Mugsy in heaven.
If you think that’s nuts, I’m in good company.
Martin Luther said, “In Paradise there was complete harmony between man and animals; one day again that harmony will be restored and all creation will be made anew.”
Billy Graham put it this way: “I think God will have prepared everything for our perfect happiness. If it takes my dog being there (in Heaven), I believe he’ll be there.”
For a deeper theological take, here’s C.S. Lewis: “The theory I am suggesting . . . makes God the centre of the universe and man the subordinate centre of terrestrial nature: the beasts are not co-ordinate with man, but subordinate to him, and their destiny is through and through related to his. And the derivative immortality suggested for them is not a mere amende or compensation: It is part and parcel of the new heaven and new earth, organically related to the whole suffering process of the world’s fall and redemption.”
So get that Frisbee ready for me, Mugsy!
Matt Sieger, now retired, is a former sportswriter/columnist for New York and California newspapers. He has a B.A. from Cornell University and an M.A. in magazine journalism from Syracuse University’s Newhouse School of Public Communications. He is the author of “The God Squad: The Born-Again San Francisco Giants.”
