Of all humans’ ideas, God may be the silliest.

Carll says God visited him. I mean, really! A God you can’t see, sniff, hear? I wasn’t around then, but if I had been would I have barked at Him? Or sniffed His crotch? See what I’m saying? Posit impalpable entities and before you know it your world is a traffic jam of ghosts. Then humans quibble: God is this or that; my God’s cooler. Absurdities compound. Seemingly sane souls devote their lives to debating fantasies: theology they call it, though they might as well call it tiddlywinks. Paws make tiddlywinks tricky; common sense makes theology impossible. I get spooked plenty by unexpected sounds and smells, but at least my trepidation arises from data that’s really real. God is an idea, like a dream squirrel. I’m all for dream squirrels – they’re a hoot to chase – but then you wake up!

I’m not against God, don’t get me wrong. If God makes people happy and congenial, hats off to Him. Better God keeping the peace than cops popping pistols. If folks find joy and comfort gathering to greet God, va bene, as the Italians say. If God made Michelangelo carve statues and paint ceilings, hallelujah, speaking of Italians.

No question, God can be useful. It’s the insistence on His (or Her) actuality that gets my goat. (Why “goat”? – asks he doggedly.) If your God is actual and my different God is actual and they both rule the world, we’ve a mess on our hands. It’s like that kids’ game “King of the Castle”: only one kid can occupy the summit, so the other kids have to knock him off. Omnipotent deities can’t share power, q.e.d.

Do you ever wonder how humans got so hepped on God? My guess is it comes from too much thinking. Humans ask why, dogs never, why worry ourselves? Ask why and you start sniffing for an answer – why were we born, say – and since there is no answer and that’s irksome, humans make one up. We were born because… God said so! Then Junior asks, “Daddy, who is God?” and they’re off to the races.

I do not believe in God but I believe humans need to. When they don’t, they get cranky. It’s no accident the widely reported decline of organized religion coincides with an increase in human grievance. Most of America, it seems, is in a piss-poor mood, though they’ve mostly got jobs and food and smart phones like never before. They’re cranky because all this stuff isn’t making them as happy as they think they ought to be or they deserve. If they attended church or synagogue or mosque, they’d be reminded that no one deserves anything and that whatever they’ve got God gave them so quit kvetching because they can’t go toe-to-toe with God.

Dogs don’t need God because we never ask for more than we’ve got. We beg, sure, but that’s just business – isn’t all business begging more or less? If Carll doesn’t oblige me with an umpteenth treat, so be it, it was worth a try. Dogs don’t brood, hold grudges, feel sorry for ourselves. Today is wonderful because it’s the one I’ve got. Look at those daffodils sprouting! Feel that sun!

God wouldn’t be so silly if humans redefined Him as “everything we do not know” and left it at that, the equivalent of X in algebra. We all need X to square our equations, even dogs. It’s the specificity of the divinity that wreaks havoc.

When I explain this to Carll, he tousles my floppy ears. Speaking of irksome.