She came to me at nine years old with an incomplete backstory. No longer a viable breeder after age five or six, the owners kept her way past her financial contribution to the family. She’d delivered two litters a year, about 100 puppies. “We just liked her,” they told me. My inquiry, “I’m an old lady dog-lover, looking for an old-lady dog companion,” hit just the right tone. “You’re an answer to our prayers.” And so I got Elsa.

The day after the attempted assassination of the former president, I hungered for Sunday air. You know, the first day of the week kind of air, where everything starts over. Air that requires nothing. No lofty thoughts, no reflection, no opinions, judgments, or conclusions. Sunday air. I breathe Sunday air when singing a well-known hymn like “It is well with My Soul”.

When peace like a river, attendeth my way

When sorrows like sea billows roll

Whatever my lot

Thou hast taught me to say

It is well, it is well, with my soul

And when the preacher elevates my being with no effort on my part, I breathe in the Sunday air of love. 

Sunday air was unattainable at church last week, though. It was not well with my soul. Right off, the preacher prayed “for former President Trump, grateful he did not succumb to political violence. This world is in love with violence, a violence that threatens the best in us, so renew in us a commitment to the Christ, who calls us to turn the other cheek, to love our neighbor, to love our enemies.” On receiving this, I sucked in a big chunk of we’re-gonna-lose and couldn’t seem to exhale.

The sermon choked off any puff of relief— a parable about prayer that meant nothing to me. My diaphragm would have swelled during hymn-singing, but the tunes were unfamiliar yawns.

And so, airless, I vamoosed to the outdoors, home to fetch Elsa for a trip to the park to watch tennis players sweat it out. She was too hot to sniff around the edges and lazed in the shade instead. Until a tennis ball bounced toward her behind the chain link fence. She bolted for it and dug into the wire to try to slay that green fuzzy rodent stunt double. She would have broken her teeth to get to it. A tennis player picked up the ball, a good ball, and tossed it over the fence with big Sunday air to Elsa, who received it with the gusto of a kid catching bubbles. She flaunted her prize using all the primal dog moves that delight dog-loving humans. I never knew she was a ball dog. 

Echoing Bill Maher, Bulwark podcaster Tim Miller asked his spirit guide and Managing Editor, Sam Stein: 

“Can I say Trump is the luckiest dog on the planet?”

“No! You can’t say that.”

“I can’t?” Asked Miler.

“No! It’s not lucky to be almost assassinated.” Said Stein.

But Elsa. She’s a lucky dog.

Regan Burke's avatar
Regan Burke's book, "In That Number" was a finalist for Chicago Writers Association non-fiction Book of the Year. Her brief memoirs and personal essays appear in the Christian Science Monitor, Sun Magazine, Chicago History Museum "In This Together" Project, City Creatures, Safe 'n Sound, Easter Seals Blog. Chaleur, Rise Up Review, Bird Garden's Murder of Writers and Writing Out Loud. She lives on Potawatomi land in downtown Chicago with Elsa, the West Highland Terrier. Her main activity is reducing the weight of the here and now.

16 thoughts on “It’s not lucky to be almost assassinated”

  2. Christ was lucky to be almost be assassinated. He didn’t come to exemplify the zero -sum game. We already have that covered, Somebody always has to lose as long as we continue to see it that way .

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  3. Regan, I love this essay. The words to “It Is Well with My Soul,” the story about old-lady dog Elsa liking to play ball… The whole thing just fits together. We should all be like Elsa. Ready to play when presented with a ball like we have no cares.

    Lola

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  4. And a cutie!! From a dog mom of three and a cat mom of one 🙂

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  7. A great little story. However, luck had nothing to do with that shot missing its mark. That 20 year old “kid” was way too close. He was armed well, had plenty of time, and the powers employed to protect former President Trump were asleep at the switch. The Secret Service (now headed by a female Pepsi executive), the woke FBI, local police, and state police all somehow missed the shooter who was only about 150 yards away from Trump. With all of those compound security failures, Trump was spared. Sorry, but that result was not luck. God stepped in. The leftists have been trying every dirty trick, legal move, etc., to keep Trump out of office. They have failed time after time. God has stepped in before and He will again.

    Some people may despise Trump, but they must separate his personality from his policies. An honest comparison between the political success of Biden and Trump shows the truth. So, take a deep breath of that Sunday air and thank God for always being there.

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  8. Thank you Reagan for saying what I was also feeling last Sunday after church. I thought I was wrong in feeling like I am about to lose everything and it is time to surrender. Why did we have to pray like that and agree with a sermon that supported that prayer.
    After church I fell and broke my nose and required stitches to stop the bleeding. I spent the rest of the day in the ER surrounded by people who are just trying to survive. I am not sure which experience was more painful.

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  10. Dear One,

    I love the way you write…
    And I love your soul….sending wishes that it is well!
    Love,
    Sandy

    Sent from my iPhone

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  11. That tennis player, wow, what an awesome human being. I assume Trump has feelings like a normal person (or something akin to that). My experience is being “almost killed” changes you, make you more emphatic and patient and less sure of yourself. He will win. We are now learning he is god’s chosen one (something Trump himself has been saying for a decade). Hopefully this experience will soften him in unforeseeable ways that doesn’t make his presidency the end of the world.

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  12. Interesting as usual. You never disappoint. You are an observer and a thinker. Why the preacher decided to call this assassination attempt political, I don’t know. A 20 year old white kid with no friends. We should pray for his soul. A lost soul who had an AR 15 at his disposal. And not at all political as far as I know. I’m not sure it made a difference to him which candidate was close to home. And now he’s famous . . . until the next one.

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