We might live in a dog-eat-dog world, but plenty of people still love dogs, and Nate was one of them. When he’d arrive home from work, Jack would trot over to receive the head-pats he loved. Nate ascribed personalities to each pet and considered an animal’s point of view. He also loved the soft feel of their ears.

There was one oddity, however, about Nate’s involvement. He liked to dress them up. When I’d ask why, he’d just shrug. “They’re so cute that way.”

When our girls used to play with dolls, he’d borrow an extra dress, hat, whatever they would loan. If an outfit was too small for a dog, he’d dress one of the cats. If no clothes were available, he’d use his hankie as a babushka, tied under a furry chin. “Get the camera!” he’d say.

In an effort to figure out Nate’s fascination with animal dress-up, I’d ask, “Is this about the miniature clothes? Or maybe a wish that our pets were human? An idea for a new business? An underlying desire to have more children?”

But in 40 years, I never figured it out. Our kids would watch their father in amusement, enjoying his laughter but chalking it up to the foibles of an older generation.

We’ve all seen TV spots featuring animals doing human things: the horse that counts with his hoof, the chimp that obeys sign language, the dog that alerts his family to a fire. We love them all. Maybe Nate’s fascination with dressing our pets was an effort to elevate them a notch, as these shows tried to do.

My best guess was that a dog wearing a sweater and glasses, sitting patiently with a serious expression, was a visual oxymoron Nate relished. His business world forced rationality and logic, and at home he needed to be the voice of reason in every discussion. A cat in a bonnet was jolly comic relief.

Today at the beach a couple dragged two yellow kayaks through the sand to the shoreline. Sitting proudly in one of them was a small white poodle. As they passed me, his owner said, “He loves a good ride.”

I saw what she meant after she snapped on her own life jacket and then produced one for the dog. Although the lake had white caps today, this poodle stood at the bow, leaning into breaking waves like the ornamental figurehead on an ancient ship. Even while taking water in the face, he never flinched.

When they returned an hour later, the dog still hadn’t had enough. Although they set him on the sand, his choice was to sit back in the kayak wearing his life jacket, gazing at the waves. Nate would have been all over this scenario, asking questions of the couple, patting the dog and loving the outfit. I wish he could have been there.

I believe the following “outlandish statements” are true:

Animals matter to God, because they’re a part of his “good” creation, and he’s pleased when we delight in them. In heaven, animals will be there as part of creation’s restoration, and when we’re in conversation with them, we can ask Nate’s pets exactly what they thought of their earthly outfits.

On second thought, they may be dressed in heavenly outfits at the time we ask. If that’s true, Nate’s joy will know no bounds.

”As I watched, I heard an eagle that was flying in midair [in heaven] call out in a loud voice… to the inhabitants of the earth…” (Revelation 8:13)