Those who lived with Francis of Assisi, the 13^th century patron saint of animals and birds, remembered “… he used to call all creatures by the name of ‘brother’ and ‘sister’ …” (see: Francis of Assisi: Early Documents, Vol. I, The Saint, pp. 250-251). The earliest Francis documents show his language of brotherhood encompassed not only animals and birds but also insects, flowers, sky, wind, water, fire, and death. To know the circumstances surrounding Francis’ disinheritance by his family lends important drama to how and why this emotional and sensitive man came to sing of “Brother Sun,” “Sister Moon,” in praise of all creatures great and small. Orphaned in Assisi, Francis adopted a brotherhood of all creation.

We know today through recent genetics research that there is far more to the fraternal language of Francis than semantics and metaphor. We are related to all other living things. We are family. Human beings share 98.5% of our DNA with chimpanzees, 95% with other primates, and 40%—almost half—our DNA is virtually identical in basic structure to that of “simple” creatures as lowly as the nematode C. elegans! (see: David Suzuki, The Sacred Balance: Rediscovering Our Place In Nature (Vancouver: Greystone Books, 2007). Recognizing that only 1.5% of the human genome is actually “ours” while the rest is common to other living things makes the brotherhood of creatures of Francis more appropriate than even he knew.

While the language of “Brother Scottie” may be quaint to our ears, the concept of Scotties as family is not. So much so, in fact, the Scottie experience actually goes deeper. Our bonds to our dogs are closer than typical links between brothers. Our Scotties own places in our hearts normally reserved for children.

It is this parent/child affection for our dogs which explains why burying them is such trauma. It also helps account for why we sacrifice so much for our dogs’ welfare, often providing medical care and attention for them we deny ourselves. “He’s not heavy; he’s my brother …” says a popular song. The poetry of our lives with Scotties suggests the lyric, “He’s not heavy; he’s my baby!”

What is inspiring about Francis’ fraternal way with animals and what is needed in our own practice is his inclusivity. He embraced in his brotherhood of creation the lowly as well as the loveable, from crows, to worms, to lepers, whereas we may practice kindness beyond measure to “Brother Scottie” but be unresponsive elsewhere.

Still, our heart-bonds to Scotties, closer than to a brother, emerge in our lives as growth-point of hope for us and our planet. Here is fertile ground for progress toward the fraternal way of Francis which halos the good, the bad, and the ugly.

His inclusive fraternity challenges us to grow beyond cupboard love for Scotties to take seriously the language and genetics of our connectedness to all things. We are extended family to every creature great and small not just to our Scotties and our consumer choices and habits ought to respect that filial debt. Knitted to our dogs as we are in heart and soul, we’ve taken a first and giant step toward following our little guides in Scottie-fur coats into owning the larger implications of “Brother Scottie.”

Joseph Harvill, publisher of Great Scots Magazine