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DOG = GOD
(This one’s real, and yeah — I’m gonna cuss, because this one’s from the heart)

I’ve been saying this to people all around the country. Some get it right away. Some stop in their tracks. But here it is:

What’s “dog” spelled backwards?

Yeah — “God.”

Now… is that just a coincidence?

We’ve got root origins for almost every word in the English language. Most go back to Latin or Greek or something obvious. But when I started looking into “dog,” you know what I found?

Nobody really knows where the word “dog” came from.
It just… appeared.
Even scholars admit it’s a mystery. A “lexical orphan.” No known origin. That’s rare.

Think about that.
The one animal on Earth that sticks by us through everything…
The one being that forgives, protects, comforts, and loves us without condition…

And the word we gave it — has no root. No origin.
Just happens to be God spelled backwards?

I don’t think so.

I believe dogs are one of God’s real, physical gifts to us.
They carry His energy. His peace. His loyalty. His comfort.
They don’t judge. They just love. And they stay. When others don’t.

My dogs — they saved my fucking life.

After my stroke, when I couldn’t move, couldn’t fight, couldn’t think straight — they were there. When people didn’t get it, when others left, when the pain got too big, they stayed. They loved me anyway.

They didn’t need to understand. They just knew.

And then — this part might sound crazy, but I don’t care —
I was out driving across the country. Long roads. Long days. And I kept seeing it. Not just reading it — feeling it.
DOG. GOD. DOG. GOD.
Like it was flashing in my mind.

I don’t know if I was hearing it, or seeing it, or just knowing it. It’s hard to explain. It was like a message that wasn’t coming from my own head.

And I believe — God put that in me.

Maybe some people hear Him through pastors or books or dreams.
But me? He showed up in my dogs.
And when I started telling people the story — my stroke, my recovery, what my dogs did for me, and then this realization — most people stopped and smiled. Or hugged me. Or said, “Damn, I never thought of that.”

It hit them like it hit me. Because it’s real.

We kill dogs in this world. We neglect them. We throw them away.
And I can’t help but feel — we’re killing a piece of God when we do that.

Because these dogs?
They are Him.
They are tangible love. Tangible loyalty. Tangible peace.

If that’s crazy… then I’ll take crazy over numb, any day.
And if someone ever wants to diagnose me for saying this, fine.
But I know what I felt.
And I believe it wasn’t just me.
It was God