In the park I saw a man stapling laminated posters to trees, telling of his lost dog.
‘That’s an unusual name,’ I said.
‘It is,’ he agreed. ‘I have no imagination when it comes to naming pets. I would have been happy to call him Dog, but my wife was against it. As a compromise we spelled it backwards, and called him GOD.
‘We welcomed GOD into our lives and we were happy. He made himself at home straight away, and it soon felt as if GOD had always been there. He brought joy and purpose into our world, cheered us on our dark days and enhanced our celebrations with his unconditional love. For three years our home was blessed with the presence of GOD.
‘But then two days ago GOD disappeared. He wasn’t in any of the usual places I looked for him. He wasn’t on the hearth where he was usually to be found. He wasn’t in our daughter’s room, keeping watch over her cradle. I went into the garden and called for him. ‘GOD! GOD! Are you there?’ I went to the woods nearby and cried out “GOD! Oh, GOD! Where are you, GOD?”
‘I told every dog walker in this park that I was searching for GOD and asked if they knew where I could find him. I knocked on door after door to ask if our neighbours had witnessed GOD recently. No one could give me a clear answer. Everywhere I look GOD is not to be found. The world abounds with places GOD should be but is not. I look for GOD but his face is hidden from me. I call out to GOD but he doesn’t hear me.
‘And maybe it sounds ridiculous, but the first thing I notice when I get home is the unmistakable absence of GOD. And the three of us alone, all alone in the universe without a GOD to throw sticks for.’
I saw him again a few days later, tying posters to lamp posts. He looked tired and defeated. I wished him luck, and he thanked me with good grace.