What My Dog Taught Me About God

Motherhood is one of the few things I’ve taken seriously. I’ve always known that if I’m going to bring a baby into this world, I have to be 100% sure I can care for that child properly. As the unplanned child of a teenage mother, I learned not to roll the dice on pregnancy. I’m proud to say that I have never (ever!) had sex without birth control.

I extend this sense of responsibility beyond children. For many years before I brought Roxanne Saturday home, I researched dog breeds, took breed compatibility tests, and regularly visited my local holistic pet store.

In retrospect, that last part was overkill.

I feel a little guilty about how often I pestered the veterinarian who held office hours there every Thursday. I badgered the poor man with the same questions, week after week.

“What’s the best food to feed my dog?”

“Why don’t you get the dog first and then we’ll figure it out,” he’d respond, thoroughly exhausted with me.

After eight years of research — and a move to a more dog-friendly home — I finally brought a rambunctious French Bulldog puppy into my life. Naturally, I fed her the highest-quality puppy food I could find. Yet she had constant diarrhea.

I tried several diets before eventually ditching the dog food altogether. I switched to real food, human food.

At the time, veterinarians didn’t support this approach. They warned that Roxanne wouldn’t get the nutrients she needed on a home made diet. But I’d done my research and trusted myself.

Soon enough, Roxanne was pooping like a champ!

To be sure, I ran every test her vet recommended to confirm she was healthy.

Until then, I’d never been one to cook. I may have scrambled a few eggs or boiled some pasta. But that was the extent of it. Cooking for Roxanne put me in touch with food in an entirely new way. I experienced an ah-ha moment while preparing a chicken for the oven.

As I reached into its body cavity to remove the giblet bag, I felt uneasy. With feathers plucked, head chopped off, and legs splayed, it hit me that this wasn’t merely a food item.

This was a bird. A lady bird.

And she looked so degraded there in my kitchen sink. I was casually holding her internal organs in my hand. But she’d been a living, breathing being!

And now she’s getting served up as dog food?

Why am I feeding a chicken to a dog?

The next obvious question was: why do I feed a chicken to myself? Humans are animals too. Why is one animal more important than another?

I started to think about how there’s no real logic behind why we eat certain animals yet cuddle with others. It’s purely cultural. It gave me chills to think that in some parts of the world people would eat Roxanne without a second thought.

I have an adventurous palate but I’m also health conscious. So I was a regular at Blossom, my local vegan take-out restaurant. I’d stop by for a kale salad or a fresh green juice. And as I waited for my order, I’d find myself mesmerized by images of the animals at Woodstock Farm Animal Sanctuary. Cows, pigs, goats, chickens — all the animals roamed freely, played with one another, and enjoyed cuddles from their human caretakers.

The food at Blossom was delicious and the vibe lifted my spirits. I’d flip through the sanctuary’s brochure. And one day I took it home.

I didn’t realize it at the time, but the Universe was speaking to me in gentle whispers.

Over the next few months, I just-so-happened to watch two movies on demand: Cloud Atlas, with Tom Hanks and Halle Berry, and Never Let Me Go, starring Keira Knightly. On the surface, these movies had nothing to do with animal welfare. But upon deeper reflection, I saw a vegan message in both.

So often, we’re told to “question everything.” But do we even know what to question?

My love for Roxanne led me to pick up cues from my environment that otherwise would’ve gone unnoticed. My love for Roxanne led me to question the very food on my plate.

I dug through my junk drawer, found the brochure for Woodstock Farm Animal Sanctuary, and scheduled a tour. I knew if I visited that farm and bonded with those animals, touched their fur, felt the warmth of their bodies, and looked them in the eye, I would never be able to eat them again.

And I was right. I came home that evening and immediately cleaned out my kitchen, discarding all animal products.

I learned of an online event called Veganpalooza which, serendipitously, took place the very weekend I toured the sanctuary. As I cleaned my kitchen, I listened to speakers discuss veganism from every possible angle — from the horrors of factory farming, to the effects of animal agriculture on climate change, to the benefits of a plant-based diet for human health.

I’d never heard of factory farming before. I assumed the chickens on my plate arrived there after a farmer chopped off their heads. To me, this doesn’t sound like a bad way to go at all: happy and clucking around one moment, head chopped off the next? I had no moral issue with that. I’d take that deal myself.

I hadn’t considered what it takes to feed billions of people even more billions of chickens. No amount of farmers could keep up with that kind of demand. Of course, the process is mechanized.

And when I learned the details, I was horrified.

Learning about the systemic confinement, mutilation, and slaughter of billions of sentient beings was staggering. Factory farming is a grim testament to just how disconnected we humans are from our own sense of decency. When I first confronted these truths, I was overwhelmed.

How is factory farming even legal?

I was so horrified by factory farming, I would’ve adopted a vegan diet even if it wasn’t better for my health. But as it turns out, plant-based eating is also better for human health.

I learned that eating this way could help prevent and even reverse some of the deadliest diseases plaguing humanity: cancer, heart disease and diabetes. Countless studies showed how plant foods could lower cholesterol, reduce inflammation, and even starve tumors of the fuel they need to grow.

The more I learned, the more I realized that this was not just a diet, but a profound solution hidden in plain sight.

As I delved deeper, I learned that this way of eating wasn’t just saving lives. It was saving the planet. Animal agriculture is one of the leading contributors to climate change, deforestation and water pollution. By choosing plants over meat and dairy, I was significantly reducing my carbon footprint and helping preserve the earth’s resources.

I was awestruck by the interconnectedness of it all.

The foods that nurtured me also nurtured the planet. The more I pondered this, the less it felt coincidental. It began to feel like evidence. This was not the work of chance. This was the work of a God.

And this God values kindness above all else. It wasn’t my intellect that led me to a vegan lifestyle. It was the love I felt for my doggy lady.

And once God (or the Universe or however it is you like to think of this energy) recognized this love in my heart, s/he started sending me messages. These revelations come to us over time — in gentle whispers.

My hope is that this is the whisper that one day leads you to choose a more compassionate lifestyle too.

P.S. In case you’re wondering, I switched Roxanne to a plant-based diet as well. And she thrived for 14 glorious years. But that’s a story for another time.