Big Bad Wolf

I'll never forget taking my first dog I adopted as an adult to an obedience class. The instructor informed us in no uncertain terms that we have taken wolves into our homes and we should expect them to be...wolves. Not human babies. As strong as the temptation is to want to "humanize" our pets, it's the worst thing we can do, because of course, they don't think the same, they don't "feel" the same, and, well...their genetic makeup is fully canine.

He was right. 

Now that I've had several dogs, both my own and fosters, come through my home, I've come more and more to understand what he was talking about. Especially now.

A couple weeks ago I took in another foster, a mix of a couple of the most beloved breeds, and things were going well - until I took him in to the groomer. His nails were terribly overgrown and he was clearly in pain so I insisted we get this taken care of as soon as possible, and certainly before a pending adoption.

Unfortunately, the grooming didn't go well. I'd warned the groomer that he was sensitive about his nails and she was ready for him. She gave him a chance, he snapped at her so she went to get the muzzle. The groomer approached him with the muzzle, didn't even touch him when, without any warning whatsoever, the dog  lunged and bit her, drawing blood.

She's fine, but the dog's future is in question. I got him into the Rescue's vet this last week to get his nails trimmed, but because of the bite risk, the appointment was nearly as traumatic for me as it was for the dog. Both the dog's placement coordinator and I were careful to caution the staff not even to approach him with a muzzle or someone would be bitten. They prepped the sedatives and took even more precautions to ensure he wouldn't bite when the needle went in. (I think he's fine with needles but when a dog has bitten the logical thing is to ensure it doesn't happen again, especially when the dog is already stressed.)

My foster had to be given drugs twice and STILL had fight in him when it came to the muzzle. He was completely out...but when the muzzle approached he leapt into action. Actually bit the Vet Tech once, forcing him to have to get the "cat gloves" and the hapless (and brave!) VT would have been totally torn up without them by the time they were finally successful.

Indeed, the dog's nails were finally clipped, and the good Veterinarian did indeed deem it to be "medically necessary", even prescribed painkillers for what may be an arthritic knee. She was able to do a good exam while he was out cold (and muzzled), and I'm thankful - because he almost bit me a couple days later when I barely and unintentionally brushed against his bad knee.

So as it goes, my foster, whom I am calling "Aslan" because he has a huge mane and, well, isn't a "tame lion, you know", has a behavioral evaluation tomorrow. All the rescues are temperament tested before they go to a foster, but when problems are identified, they get more intense scrutiny.

Life in the Balance

I grew up hearing from our Mom that if our dog ever bit anyone, she would be "put down". No question. My Mom was raised on a farm and it was unacceptable for a family pet (usually kept outdoors in their case) to bite a human being. I don't disagree with that standard. However, I have come to realize there is room to allow for hope, and that also comes from the same Christian upbringing. While Jesus did not die for animals, he did give we humans dominion over them and the ability to use reason - and training - to properly steward these creatures.

Sometimes humans do horrible things to animals and cause behaviors the animals themselves would not choose if not completely traumatized. Some of those things CAN be overcome. A dog is not a shark; the taste of blood from a bite does not automatically mean that a dog will start biting indiscriminately. They don't have interest in that; they bite for a REASON. Find the reason and perhaps they can be saved.

That is the case with this dog. I'm sure of what happened to him:  his paws and nails were never handled and were totally neglected for care. When it came time that they HAD to be done, they didn't work with him, decided to muzzle, forced the muzzle on (again without training), took him down and hacked off the talons, probably causing pretty major pain. This probably happened more than once, and NOT by professionals, but by whoever owned the dog.

His aggression triggers seem to be limited to any kind of ongoing pain, his nails, muzzle - and anything that would be painful. This is a scary thing. Right now he can't be trusted; even I won't push him if I'm not sure how he's going to react. I'm careful to watch every bit of his body language so as to avoid setting him off.

Tomorrow, I'm taking this boy to the Rescue's Behaviorist for an evaluation. My understanding is that the Behaviorist will trip "Aslan's" triggers with what we know and I guess, push the envelope in other ways as well. She will determine if we can work to desensitize him and give me instructions as to how to go about it.

Years ago I had a dog who was both fear-aggressive (nonspecific triggers) and had major separation anxiety. While it's nice to have had that experience under my belt, and while that past experience helps me to have no irrational fear about the dog in my care now, I claim no expertise. This is very much a learning experience and as this is not my dog but merely a foster, his LIFE depends upon tomorrow's meeting and what I am able to do, with the Behaviorist and the dog going forward.

So...I realize many people have had bad experiences with dogs and may have grown up just as I did, with the equation of "Bite = Death". Please let me introduce this dog to you in the way I see him every day:

"Aslan" is the perfect gentleman inside the house.  He sits on command, is completely housetrained, stays in my room at night and remains quiet even when my usually-quiet GSD barks at something.  I usually wake up to find "Aslan" lying directly next to my bed waiting to greet me. When I do arise he tries to circle and is only hindered by his girth as he's about 30 pounds overweight. (He should weigh 50 - 60 lbs max but weighs over 91 lbs).

"Aslan" has probably lost a couple pounds since he came to me, and LOVES his walks. In the beginning he struggled with the short ones but now tries to lead the way and I have to keep him from crowding and "herding" me on our regular walks. On bad days, as he has maybe a little arthritis in his knee, he lags and may sit - that's become a cue to me to take him home.  For now he's on anti-inflammatories which hopefully will help and I think already have done so!

"Aslan" defers to my GSD (as Queen Bee of this house!) and prefers the floor to the dog bed but still finds his way to the dog-designated futon when it suits him. He's directable and loveable. He loves attention, wants to be petted, knows how to "shake" and takes treats so perfectly an infant could offer it to him without a mother's moment of worry.

The other day I discovered "Aslan" likes it when I sing, but tonight, I learned his favorite song is "Lil' Red Riding Hood", Amanda Seyfried's version. The very moment I began singing he sat up, after awhile started to vocalize every time I stopped, and when I sat on the floor, still singing, he came over, laid his head in my lap, rolled over so I could rub his (considerable!) belly, and then stood only so that he could turn around and sit in my lap to be petted.

This is a wonderful dog and it breaks my heart that he has been so traumatized that his fear has driven him to draw blood from human beings. "Aslan's" nature is to be someone's buddy. He's protective, he's cuddly, and he's obedient.

And his life is in danger; not because of the Rescue or because of me, but because some people in his past have so traumatized an innocent creature to the degree that we may be unable to un-ring that particular bell.

Comparisons

There are some who think the lives of animals mean nothing, or try to compare the lives of human babies to those of animals. There is no comparison. As a Catholic, I know it is both-and. While I give far more weight to the life of a human child, that does not mean that some of us have not been called to the area of Catholic Social Teaching in the area of Stewardship for Creation. I am not a mother, I do not have children. I am Pro-Life and work professionally with religious organizations that promote the end to abortion and contraception.

But in my personal time, because I am able, I find I can help some animals, I have gifts in this area, and right now there is a life in my care. Some human beings in this dog's past put his life in danger through really horrible abuse, and all the work I do with this I offer in reparation on behalf of those who hurt him. I have hope that this dog will respond to training and hope that tomorrow's evaluation will go well. I am assured of support from the entire Rescue.


Everything I do for animals I do even more for human beings, for every service to the former is ordered to the eternal life of the latter.

And since now I know "Aslan's" favorite song, I will sing it to him as often as necessary to tame the bad wolf within him.

The Spiritual Life and Agility Training

This week, I had the wonderful opportunity of introducing my dog to a couple Agility obstacles. I'll admit to being a bit nervous before we began since I haven't worked with her much on obedience lately. Much to my surprise, though, once we were "at bat", she ignored the children watching this training exercise, and the other dog that had otherwise dominated her attention.

(It helped that I had her favorite "high value" treat:  freeze-dried liver.)

Teaching her to go through the tunnel turned out to be very easy. I'd introduced her to it when the obstacle was brought in. She wasn't fearful of it in any way although she had no interest in exploring its depths. I tried to get her to go in but she simply turned away and I didn't push her - it wasn't time yet.

Awhile later the trainer pulled the tunnel into the middle of the classroom and scrunched it up to make it as small as possible so that the dog could look through it and see that I was on the other side. When I called, she came and gobbled up the treat.  The trainer lengthend the tunnel so that it was just a little longer than the length of her body.  Again, no problem. My dog came through and gobbbled up the treat. We continued this process until the tunnel was at full length, requiring the trainer to stand at the entrance with the leash in her hand while I walked to the other end to coax my dog with the nummy treat.

Finally, though, we had to take the next step:  put a curve in the tunnel so that she couldn't look through and see me at the other end. The trainer explained to the children (and of course, to me) that this obstacle is an exercise in trust. The dog had to come to understand that when she entered the tunnel, she would meet me on the other side. She'd already been through it so knew what the tunnel was, but the question was...would she be frightened away by the curve that did not allow her to view the nice treat and enthusiastic praise awaiting her at the end?

We gave the command and I walked the tunnel, ready to greet her on the other end. Sure enough, she came through but this time was different; after she'd reached the straightaway, she was so comfortable inside that she paused to investigate an interesting scent. I explained to the children what she was doing, much to their delight. This was a good sign and a necessary part of her training that would help her with other obstacles later.

 Finally satisfied, my dog completed the tunnel and came to me for her treat. I took her leash and brought her back to the start. As the trainer explained to the children that although rewards are used in initial training, they must be taken away. You see, the dog discovers that the obstacle is fun all on its own; the obstacle becomes its own reward, so they have to learn to pass through it then look to their master to be directed to the next event.

As the trainer spoke, holding the leash, my dog took it upon her own iniative to enter the tunnel. Realizing that this must be encouraged and rewarded, I gave her the command (not that she needed it that time!) and ran to the end to meet her as she emerged, smiling her happy doggy smile.

Mission accomplished; that ended her tunnel lesson for the day. She "got" the lesson, she discovere the tunnel was fun, that I would meet her on the other end, and she had learned to instinctively look for me as she exited. Should I get the chance to work with her further on Agility, I will no longer use the high value treats, or any treat for that matter. Instead I'll be learning how to direct her to the next thing.

Agility and the Spiritual Life

It may sound strange, but my dog learning this obstacle is a nearly-perfect analogy for our own spiritual lives.

In the beginning, as we come to know God, He gives us many rewards to entice us to enter a life of prayer and communion with Him. So it is that we receive many consolations, but once we have established that we understand and plan to continue our prayer lives, God slowly withdraws the consolations, leaving us with "spiritual dryness."

He asks us to pass through that tunnel, first so that we can see Him, eager to receive His reward for us, and then maybe He throws in a bit of an obstacle, asking us to trust that He will be there even if we can't see him right away. And then, once we have reached that level of trust, even though it is a very basic level, he asks us to pass through that darkness again - but this time not to receive a reward, but rather, to grow in our faith, learning to look not for a reward, but another lesson that will build our relationship with God.

In short, we stop looking for mere treats and instead look joyfully for trials.

Of course, this is where the analogy ends; we are not dogs. A dog only knows what is in front of it and needs our constant guidance to understand what we want them to do; they cannot reason, they cannot know their final ends, and they can not act in a way so as to "choose the good."  That is a purely human privilege.

Sometimes when we pass through that dark obstacle, we come out, as my dog did, looking for God, but He isn't there. As the trainer demonstrated yesterday, she went and stood on the other side of the tunnel so when her dog exited, she looked in the wrong direction and had to pause to find her Master. That's exactly what we do!

In our Pride, sometimes when we pass through spiritual trials we make an assumption about what God is doing, so when we are released, we are looking in the wrong direction. Then we get frustrated and lose our peace.

Indeed, it is good that we are seeking God, but not finding Him where we expect becomes a lesson in humility on the way to deeper trust. We must continually learn deeper and deeper trust, for although Our Lord may not always be where we expect, we can be assured He is still there, waiting, ready as soon as we are to take us more deeply into the lessons He has for us.

Some days, it seems I learn more from my dog than she does from me. No wonder dogs are man's best friend; they certainly must be one of God's closest allies in getting us to Heaven! ;-)

Out of Sorts and in Pieces

For the last few weeks, I've been very "out of sorts". Discombobulated. Disconnected.

Yeah. "Out of Sorts" says what I probably most need to say. Such an imprecise idiomatic phrase and yet...so accurate as to my ongoing present condition.

There's been a lot going on in my life personally, spiritually, practically, even physically. Some my fault (sin!), some the impact upon me of the sin of others, some spiritual attack....you get the idea. In other words, it's life.

My story isn't any different than anyone else's. 

Last week, my co-worker/friend's father passed away. Even though it was expected and there have been many close calls over the recent years, she had a hard time with it. Not a "hard time" she is really sharing, but knowing our friend and her aversion to suffering and grief, well...she's gotten extra prayers.  From experience I know to let her grieve in the way she must, and to not "pen her in."  I've done my best to be "normal" around her, which is surprisingly easy, and having been there before I know that I was most grateful when people didn't fawn all over me, but rather let me be in that moment, whatever it was at the time.

The hard thing with grief is this: it is transitory. It is sharp one moment, and like a distant memory in the next. It never really "goes away" for the one who was loved and is no longer there is still loved and still present, if in a different way.

This particular co-worker/friend and I share a particular aversion to being emotional in public. We'd prefer our tears to be in solitude. We don't mind admitting having shed those tears, but we prefer they remain between us and God, that our grief and weakest moments be with Him alone, for only He can truly console us.

So ironic, then, the other day as we spoke of grief in general terms. I was fine, and spoke of losing my Dad when I was 20, having to miss the first day of class  of a new semester in college because of Dad's funeral...and then being immediately thrust back into college life as though nothing had happened.

As if it didn't matter.  But it did.

My friend lost her mother long ago, when she was young, and now, losing her father....grief beyond words and mere understanding.

As we spoke, sharing, quietly, our own stories of grief and loss, I felt fine. I empathized with her and spoke of my own past grief in even clinical terms. We both knew that grief is real when it comes and goes; it is surprising in its sudden agony in unexpected moments, ebbing and flowing, losing its sharpness over time, and yet...still able to twist in the very core of the soul making it once again fresh and unrelenting. What changes over time is the surreal quality of it; grief can perhaps be experienced more deeply over time, just like the fresh-turned earth over a new grave.

That evening, I told my friend the details of my father's loss, and how, when I went to school, I was angry in general. My entire persona was anger; I felt little but anger.  I wanted to talk to someone, but whenever anyone offered a shoulder, I fled, holding back the tears.  The VP of my college, whom I had come to know because of his visit to our study-abroad group while we were in Mexico, was a particular confidant, and he made it clear that his door was open to me. Yet whenever he tried to get me to open up about my grief, I found a reason to leave, yet I always thanked him for the invitation, telling him I was fine.

I was lying and he knew it. I'm not sure many others knew I was running about with such a burden, but Brother C. knew, and I give him a great deal of credit for being so available to me, even though I didn't take him up on it.  I know he has no idea how much help he was to me back then, but for various reasons I'm not sure I'll ever be able to tell him.He probably doesn't remember me anyway; I was one student among many and Br. C. tended to have an open-door policy, always taking time for those who came knocking on his door.

Even though Dad died more than 15 years ago, at times I am still almost taken by surprise, and in fact, the other night was one of them.  As my co-worker and I shared our experiences, there, as we stood in the office, having just discussed the transient and surprising quality of grief, I told her of how lost I was when I went back to college after Dad's funeral. I told her how it took 8 months of anger before I actually "lost it" in the presence of another.

That evening, suddenly, I couldn't study. I couldn't focus on my assignments, and even reading for pleasure could not engage my attention. I tried to work out, I tried the computer lab, thinking maybe a little internet surf might be helpful. I looked up grief and its effects, finding nothing. I tried humor sites but could not laugh.

I gave up and headed back "home" to my dorm. En route through the college center building I passed the piano room, where a good friend of mine was practicing.  I walked in,  closed the door, said hello, and sat down.

She asked me what was wrong.

Nothing, I said.

She was silent, staring at me, waiting.

"My Dad isn't going to be there when I get married."

I burst into tears. "This is so stupid! I don't even have a BOYFRIEND!"

"No", my friend told me. "He's NOT going to be there when I get married, or when I graduate, or have any other huge event in my life where he would be an honored guest".

His seat would ALWAYS be empty. 

I'm not sure she said THAT, but that was the image in my mind.

The other night, when I spoke with my coworker about this conversation, at the very moment I said, "My Dad isn't going to be there when I get married", suddenly, unexpectedly, without any prior notice, tears overflowed.

I don't know where they came from. They were just...THERE.  Suddenly I was crying.

I have shared this experience many times, I have thought of it...no emotion whatsoever. But the other day, and right now as I write this, I confess, I couldn't/ can't seem to stop the flow of tears.

Even as we laughed about grief, about the very POINT my own sudden squall of tears made about the transitory and fickle nature of grief, there was consolation in simple understanding. I prayed mightily that no one would enter our office. As it was the squall faded away and God's Providence kept the office door closed.

When someone did finally enter, both of us were as dry-eyed and normal-looking as we'd ever been, and joking as usual.

No one understands grief as mightily as Our Lord, and I think He has a special regard for those who weep out of such a deep love and loss.

Grief isn't everything, though...

I've also been out of sorts because I've been feeling, once again, that I'm being torn into pieces. 

While I was in college a friend once told me that I suffered from "option overload".  I had so many options I didn't know what to do. Every door was open to me, and every door was legitimate.

It's different now, and yet...the same. I am once again suffering from "option overload". Once again, there are too many doors opened to me, all are good, all are legitimate. The doors aren't as prolific, the options not the same or as lucrative.

It's a whole new game now, and....it's not a game.

This time it's for keeps, and I'm long past my expiration date in that regard.

This Old Maid, stuck with, as we used to call it in the midst of the game, the "cute card!", has landed in my hand.

I never knew such a stupid and pop-culture card game could become the icon of my life.

As long as I hold this particular card, I am losing the game that isn't a game; no one is called to be an "Old Maid".

God has a plan and Vocation for EVERYONE.

But this particular Old Maid is partially ripped and torn away.

Yeah. I'm out of sorts. I'm a bit melancholic, I'm a bit lost. This will pass.  The pieces will come together. Eventually. 

The only thing I'm trying to do right now is hold on. As a Confessor said to me recently, the only thing I can do is hold onto prayer like a dog holds onto a bone.

Prayer is the only thing I truly possess.

The rest...is just fluff.  Transient bits of cosmic hiccups.


I don't even know where to store that!

Guess I'll just keep chewing on my bone......

If it's not one thing...then it's another.

No...wait.  It's not one thing and then another. It really is the same dang thing over and over again!

So it goes.

It's been a crazy few days. On Saturday I saw Bear off to his new home with his new family, content that they have the perfect place for him.  Yes, I miss him and will continue to miss him for awhile. But it was worth it, and I learned a few lessons in the process, too; things I've taken to prayer and continue to ponder.

I've been scrambling to get my papers written for class, and as of this moment....none of them are finished. I still need to edit and clean up a few things, but hopefully I can stick a fork in them tomorrow evening and email them off to my professors.  Three months left until graduation!

More Dog Stuff

And just when I thought everything was under control....well...let's just say it wasn't.

Last night when I took my dog out for a brief walk, the neighbor had his dog out as well, but off-leash. His dog ran over, he yelled to warn us, but I wasn't worried; the dogs had met before and seemed fine. Before he arrived to grab her, though, the other dog snarled and snapped, both dogs rose on their hind legs in some kind of skirmish, and we pulled them apart. My neighbor was very apologetic, I told him not worry and we continued on our walk. Truly, I wasn't a bit worried as I've been present in many little dog battles and saw nothing out of the ordinary here.

I returned home shortly thereafter, took my dog's pinch collar and leash off and she ran upstairs to engage in her favorite hobby of bunny-watching through the window.  Sometime later I called her downstairs and as she ran up to me, I saw that her left cheek was bloody!

At first I thought, "What did you DO to yourself up there?" and began to mentally catalogue any possible cause of this injury. Then it dawned on me....the dog skirmish!  Inspecting the injury I saw that it was indeed a puncture wound, which became even scarier-looking as I wiped the blood away.  She let me keep some pressure on it for awhile, and let me  take some Bactine to a cotton swab to disinfect it.

This morning when we got up I noted some swelling and decided to take her to the vet. It wasn't that it looked that awful, but in looking at my impossible schedule for the next few days, well, if this thing was going to get infected, this would be the worst possible time!  It was better, I thought, to head things off at the pass! Besides, she was due for her yearly shots and it made sense to just take care of business.

The vet clinic had an opening for me in about an hour, so I quickly got ready and also knocked on the neighbor's door to inform them of the dog bite. I told them not to worry, and wanted to make sure their dog was ok and hadn't been bitten by mine!  They verified all shots were in order and apologized profusely.

The vet decided that because it is a puncture wound it's best to give antibiotics - it is quite likely to get infected if not treated, given the location and type of injury. I agreed, so $200.00 later (including office visit and annual shots plus antibiotics) I went home.

The neighbors came out immediately to see how things had gone, I showed them the bite wound, they felt terrible and offered to pay for the visit.  I explained what I'd done and that the entire bill was not theirs, but did agree to accept the $40.00 for the antibiotic itself.  If the roles were reversed, I'd offer to pay for that, too.

So...what irony. I bring a traumatized dog into my home and all goes very well. Not a problem. I walk my dog in my own complex and she's injured by a neighbor's pet.  *shrug*   Whaddaya gonna do?

That's life. In any case it's worked out just fine, I have even more respect for my neighbors than I did before, and I'm grateful it has turned out this way. No, it's not fun to have to deal with dog bites, but it sure is nice that when the dogs decide to be dogs, both we owners can assess the situation with reason and resolve it!

I made sure they realized I'm not angry or upset, I still think their dog is sweet and I still consider them to be good neighbors! Probably even MORE so now!

It's been a tough Lent, and it doesn't seem to be getting any better, but thank God for the little things in life that make the tragedies bearable!

Well...the world belongs to God. I'm going to bed to hopefully get a good night's sleep so I can get up and do this all over again tomorrow (although hopefully not in exactly the same way....)

Life With "Bear"

I hope you will indulge me another dog post while I continue to cook up one that's more serious and in line with my regular blogging. It's a new year now, it's a Holy Day, and certainly I have more to say. (Then again, blogging is largely just, what, a narcissistic grandstand? So maybe I shouldn't be apologizing....you decide! lol)

Anyway, here is a "Bear" update, and with good news!

"Bear" is doing well. He's calming down, getting used to things and his real personality is starting to appear.

Last night, because he hadn't messed in the house since his first night, I let him loose in my room in hopes he'd settle down. I'm a very light sleeper so every time he moved, I woke up and looked to see what he was doing.  Only once did I have to turn on the light and take something away from him:  an old sock I'd worn and given to him as an appeasement toy, but as it seemed he was actually trying to EAT it,  I took it away.  He pouted and went to lay down.

I'm finding "Bear" also seems to understand the command, "Go lay down!" although not the command "down" itself.

While he's not house trained, he is seeming to begin to understand what to do when we go out, and is further understanding praise and patting.  In fact, when he does his business I have been praising him with many enthusiastic pats, rubbing his side, and he is joyfully eating it up! And even last night although loose in my room which HAS been marked at one time by a visiting male dog, he hasn't actually marked anything himself. I did catch him prepping for "the pose" but the verbal command to stop was sufficient to deter him.  The benefit to living in a small house is apparently contributing to the success of his house training:  he can't do anything as long as I'm watching!  As I've had a couple male dogs in my life, I know the behavior so can read the general "language" before the "accident" happens.  It's paying off now!  Although I'm certain we are not out of the woods....I'm nowhere NEAR ready to let him out of the kennel unsupervised or out of my sight for any serious period of time!

Bear's coat is already softer and shinier, probably both from regular attention and the food I'm giving him (regular dog food, mixed heavily with hamburger and rice in hopes of staving off or minimizing possible gastrointestinal problems), a touch of olive oil, and many treats!  He may have already gained a pound, but in his condition, every little bit shows.

He is still quite stinky and I brought him into the bathroom to look around in hopes maybe he would find the bathtub a place worthy of exploration.  Nope. He shied away from that with the first invitation!  So my guess is that he's experienced a bath before and didn't find it to his liking.  Just confirmation my trying to get him into it might not be the best idea at this point.

So...I'm being sneaky.  I've brushed him a few times, and took an old towel, wet it and have run it over his fur a few times. This afternoon I got it wet enough to "penetrate" a little, got one side wet, then added a little soap for another pass.  Then went to him again for a "rinse". He was contentedly stretched out on a dog bed at the time and not real interested in moving around, so I was just taking advantage of his "doggie down time."  No doubt he enjoyed it immensely.

When I brush him with the flea comb (an awesome tool every dog owner needs), I'm picking up a lot of mats, dead hair, etc, and at least one side of him is now cleaner than it was. Now...the next time he lays down hopefully it'll be on the "clean" side so I can go after his dirtier half!

This isn't anything like a real bath, which he continues to desperately need, but it's a marked improvement and I, for one, am pleased with every little bit!

Just a few moments ago Bear commandeered my dog's favorite stuffed toy so I got it away from him, substituted another he can readily destroy as it was already "rejected" so can go into the trash when he is done "playing" with it.  It's good to see him coming out a little, playing a bit, and showing his personality. Dogs naturally need something to "tear apart" as they are carnivorous animals and in fact, this kind of play is good for their teeth.  Now, for him, he needs several teeth extracted and a major cleaning, which will happen when he's neutered. But still, I want to see him engaging in normal "doggie" behaviors as it's a great sign of adjusting to a new life.

"Bear" may be an older dog, but he's got a LOT of life in him and I look forward to presenting to his future adoptive home.  Even though he's only been here a few days, he already seems like an entirely different dog!

Now...hopefully my next post will be more typical of my blog, but for those of you who love animals, I hope you're enjoying the "Bear" interlude!

Happy New Year and Blessed Solemnity of Mary, Mother of God!

The Saga of the Foster Dog Continues...

For those of you who read my blog for the spiritual topics, I'm certain those will make a return. In fact, I can't do anything in life without looking for whatever it is God is trying to tell me. For those of you who love animals (I know many of you do), maybe this is fascinating to you so I will continue to write of my new friend "Bear".  Be assured, at some point, maybe even tonight, I will write of God's influence in this situation.  His fingerprints are ALL. OVER. this endeavor!

As I write, I ask you all to keep in mind that this dog is a FOSTER. That means he is up for adoption and I am only serving as a temporary home. This really means I'm serving the family (or single person) intended by God to have this dog.. It IS a daunting task and I admit I'm intimidated.

If you are interested at some point in adopting this dog, please send me an email so I can put you in touch with the rescue organization.  Please do not hesitate to do this:  one of the reasons I decided to try my hand at fostering is because I cannot afford a second dog, my own dog is happier as an only pet, and I decided that sometimes it's worth putting one's heart on the line for a greater good.  (Don't worry, my dog will "speak" to me again eventually.) There aren't enough people out there who are willing to even TRY fostering...so I hope my writing about "Bear" (my blog name for him) ends up encouraging others to try this role for themselves. Recall that God created animals for a reason and a service such as this glorifies and serves Him, too.

So....First Night and Day with Bear....

In speaking with the placement coordinator while she was at my house last night, I asked for some advice/recommendation on kennel usage based on what she knows and her experience. She did recommend I kennel him at night instead of letting him run loose in my bedroom, for fear he might decide to "mark" everything I own while I sleep. As this was also my line of thinking, that's exactly what I did.  Bear went into the kennel with only a little hesitation, but didn't seem to be interested in the treat I offered him.

In general, he doesn't seem to understand what treats are about.  I actually pulled out the "big guns" last night; freeze-dried liver, used for training.  He turned it down!  Yet, when my dog snarfed it down, he decided to give it a try.   I've also seen this behavior before, in a dog who had been very abused.  The fact that he is eating them, albeit with hesitation, is a good sign. He's willing to trust...a little...and accept treats.

Well, so, I went to bed, my dog came with me, and Bear remained in his kennel downstairs. He wasn't pleased. In fact, he sounded a lot like Chewbacca complaining, making me wonder if he's got some Malamute in him somewhere!  (Yes, German Shepherds can be "talkers", too, and Bear is DEFINITELY one of them!) Unfortunately I could hear him scraping and pulling at the kennel door, he was barking, and I tried to wait it out to see what would happen.

You see, when puppies are first kenneled, they also go through a period of separation anxiety. (So do human babies, but I'll leave the child rearing to actual parents!)   Typically the best thing to do with a puppy is to let them just cry and howl...it doesn't hurt them and eventually they learn that all is well, their people come back, and they are safe.  If the people decide the crying is too much for them and come down to comfort the puppy, the puppy is then reinforced in the negative behavior. This ISN'T a good thing! It prolongs the training period!

I had this in mind last night, but had to realize that since I am in a townhome with neighbors on three sides, well....I had to make a decision.  I thought back to my greyhound and how I'd given him the courtesy of spending his first night with him downstairs in the livingroom. The first few nights, in fact.  Granted, Bear isn't going to be my dog, but what I did for my grey helped him to settle in a little more comfortably, knowing he wasn't alone in an unfamiliar place, and I never had problems with him.

So I grabbed my pillow and blanket and spent the night on the couch. Bear was a little appeased, but not entirely. He calmed enough to stop barking, although did punctuate the night with a few barks, growls, and Chewbacca conversations.  (He has a very lovely singing voice! If this can be harnessed, he can stand in for any future Wookies as a voice-over!)

This morning when I got up, I decided to forgo the coffee that is usually my primary concern, and just decided to get ready for work.  During the time I took to take my shower and get dressed, I didn't hear a peep out of Bear.  I wondered if maybe it had to do with the lights....was he accustomed to always being in a lighted area?  Is this dog....afraid of the dark? The silence?  Maybe just the lack of a pack of howling dogs to chat with around him?

I went to work but came home early today, bringing things with me to do from home. Thankfully this week I have that ability. It won't always be so.  It's not USUALLY so!

Thank God I came home!  He had bent the kennel door inward and jammed it. The latch had been undone, but the hooks were still in place.  I had to work a bit to get him out!

Now, SOME of this might just be a "German Shepherd" thing.  When I first got my own German Shepherd (my present one), she was an escape artist and delicately opened the kennel gate without doing any damage. I learned quickly that she could not be kenneled. I also learned that as long as she didn't have free run of the whole house, she was generally well-behaved (although a few things were sacrificed as can be predicted.).

I'd be willing to give Bear the benefit of that doubt, except for two reasons:

1.    There is absolutely NO evidence that he is familiar with house training.  Although he has not "marked" anything else since his arrival last night, I don't think he can be trusted yet to know where the potty is SUPPOSED to go.  He seems to have no idea, while on the leash, that he's supposed to be relieving himself.  When he does, it's incidental, more dominant behavior than actual understanding that it's potty time.  Unlike my dog.

2.  He's not yet neutered.  Would YOU let an intact stud canine run around your house KNOWING that he's not house trained yet?


So we are at an impasse...I can't trust him outside the kennel yet, and he clearly doesn't like being IN it!

Now, none of this should be taken to mean he has actual separation anxiety.  Overall, what I'm seeing is general Shepherd traits, and I am finding he is willing to let me go out of his sight as long as he knows where I am. This is typical new-dog behavior.  When I go into the kitchen, for example, he might follow and check to see where I am, but then he'll find a dog bed and lie down on it until I return or peek around the corner to make sure he isn't peeing on my theology books.

This afternoon we took a nice walk since the city finally "plowed" the sidewalks, making them passable.  Bear really didn't seem interested in doing his business, but just kept looking up at me as if to ask, "What are we doing now? Am I good? Am I a good boy? Where are we going?  What now?"

I don't think he's ever been outside of a dog run before.  Bear is absolutely FASCINATED by my TV, doesn't know how to walk on my pergot floor and was hesitant to go up the stairs this morning when I decided to introduce him to the upper level.

But he is sweet, he's willing, and although still very timid and prone to shying away, he's also very much trying to please and seems to be enjoying being curled up on the rug or dog bed.

On the Stinkyness....

He's still pretty stinky. It's not his fault.  I did recall I have some "waterless" dog bath powder I keep on hand, decided to try it. It helped just a little, but he's so filthy his fur is hanging on to the powder so I can't wash it out!  His skin is also very dry and I think I'll be adding some olive oil to his hamburger and rice mash this evening.  When I get his rabies certificate sent to me, I can maybe take him in to the groomer's for a good bath. A REALLY good bath!

He's skin and bones but I hope to get him fattened up, his coat shiny, and see what he's like when he's got some real German Shepherd confidence!

Those of you who have seen the movie "Seabiscuit" might remember Tom Smith's lines, two of which come into play here:

"Heck, he's so beat up it's hard to tell what he's really like!"

and

"You don't throw a whole life away because he's beat up a little bit."

Bear is going to be an awesome pet. I look forward to sharing with you all what he's really like.  Already he's settling down and reminding me that, indeed....lives shouldn't be thrown away just because they're a little beat up.
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Foster Dog Update

No, he's not here yet. Originally he was supposed to be arriving at my house around 4 pm today, however, things have changed quite a bit. The coordinator has to drop off another dog in another city, and I happen to live on her way home.

She was able to tell me a little more about my new buddy, though. He is a very sweet animal, wonderful gentle temperament, but he is very timid and tends to shrink away from people. He is not real familiar with the leash but apparently he wants to please so responds pretty well to a little direction.  Clearly, he has not been well treated and will need a gentle hand and quiet home...so maybe he's a perfect foster for me!

Given that he's so fearful and untrusting, I think I will take a few days and just feed him by hand so that he will come to associate good things with me...and hopefully then with other people.  Poor guy, apparently he is one who just needs to learn how to be a dog!  It sounds like he is wonderful around other dogs.

So...more info to come, and maybe even a pic later this evening.  I'll admit I'm a bit nervous about taking in a dog especially given the fact that outdoor walking conditions are treacherous and best, but we'll make do.

I just hope I'm up to this task!

Return of the Dog Woman

A few years ago, after I'd moved into my town home association, I went to an annual board meeting where I met a few of my neighbors.

As a couple neighbors and I introduced ourselves to each other, we discussed our pets and one of them asked if I was the one with the "two big dogs".

Ayup. "I'm the Dog Lady,"

They both immediately nodded enthusiastically, commenting on how they'd seen me with my two canines.

*sigh*

That's when I realized the truth about myself:  I grew up to be the neighborhood Dog Woman.

*sigh*

Well, then my greyhound got bone cancer and one day as I helped him limp around our building to relieve himself, a neighbor stopped her van and asked me what was wrong with him. I told her sadly that he had cancer and didn't have much time.

And it wasn't much time....a week after that he was gone. And on that day, while I was getting the mail, another neighbor asked me how he was...and I had to tell him I'd had to put him down that very day.

Dang, I still cry just THINKING about it!

For a long time, I've considered fostering as I know I can handle two dogs in my house, albeit within certain limitations.  As you recall, a few weeks ago I wrote about this possibility. I knew back when I lost my greyhound and I know now that I can't afford to adopt another dog, but it costs me nothing but time, space, and a little piece of my heart to foster.

Well, it seems my application has been conditionally approved, although the first dog slated for me apparently never made it to Minnesota.  This weekend, though, I received a call about another shipment, and one dog  in particular the organization thought would work in my little household.

The dog in question belonged to a breeder who decided he was of no more use to him, so he dumped him off at a local shelter. Apparently this discarded stud is sweet, gentle, and shy, just in need of a good home.  As he's older he'd probably do well in my own quiet abode.

Of course I read his story and turned into a big ball of mush, as I do with so many discarded-pet tales.  As it is, I'm the 4th or 5th owner of my current German Shepherd, and seriously don't understand what others thought was "wrong" with her. I know part of her story and even met a past owner (that's an awesome tale), but the rest....BAH!

All I can say is:   What is WRONG with people????

So I said yes to this, and I'm going to try my hand as a "foster Mom" for dogs. 

Now, I know some troll is going to come by and insinuate that I hate children or don't find abused children to be so compelling as I'm not fostering THEM, etc. etc.  (There seems to be one such troll in every crowd).  So let me just head that question off:

 I am a single woman and the fact that I love animals and am available to foster dogs doesn't mean I'd be a good foster MOTHER, adoptive MOTHER or that I'm called to MOTHERHOOD at all.

And the last time I checked, it's not lawful to lock a child up in a kennel and go to work all day.

However, the treatment above is RECOMMENDED for dogs and I'm actually equipped for that.  I also seem to have a talent with abused and discarded animals, so maybe it's time I put it back into use. Some person or family will one day benefit, but for now, I'm making room in my home and my heart for another pet.

This is going to be hard, I suspect, as is anything worthwhile.

The dog in question does have a name, but I always swore that if I got another German Shepherd, and more specifically, a male, I'd name him Benedict after our dear Papa, our German Shepherd.

So from here on out, this dog  to come will be known as Benedict I, or "Ben" for short, maybe to be followed by other "Ben's".  We'll see how this one goes first.

I guess the Dog Woman is back.

** Note: Pictured above is my dog, not the "Unknown Benedict I"

Some News That Might Surprise You

First and most importantly! 

Today is the Solemnity of the Immaculate Conception, and a Holy Day of Obligation. That means, my dear Catholic brothers and sisters, that you MUST go to Mass today! For those of you who are not Catholic, what we are celebrating is not the conception of Christ (which we celebrate at the Annunciation), but the conception of Mary.

So, people...GO TO MASS!  I will be attending this evening in the middle of our first big snowstorm since I was too lazy to get my butt out of bed for the 8 am Mass, which I'm guessing was a school Mass, anyway. And I have to admit I'm not a fan of school Masses: a parade of readers, a different kid offering each petition, singing pithy songs to make sure we all know that "All Are Welcome".  Ugh. It's an exercise in reinforcing and perpetuating the misunderstanding of "full and active participation" as opposed to what the kids should REALLY be learning about Mass and what it is, and cultivating in them a spirit of prayer...not activity.

But I digress.

Next piece of news:

I'm not very bright.  (That part isn't news. That's a given.)

For a long time, ever since I had to put my greyhound to sleep, I've been pondering the idea of fostering. Most of the dog rescue groups in our area are foster-home based, and as I have a German Shepherd, I looked into one that tends to specialize in the breed.  Last night I spoke with the woman in charge of coordinating these things, and got some more information, most of which was on their website.  Foster homes don't incur expenses....the organization provides for food, veterinary care, a crate if needed, etc.  All the fosters provide is a nice warm home, time (many of the dogs need at least rudimentary training), etc.

Well, in the midst of our discussion I kinda said...uh....Yes...  (That's the news part.)

The dog she had in mind for me is from Missouri. Apparently the South is being overrun with German Shepherds, so they're transporting them to Minnesota for adoption, as the breed is in demand up here. I'll be getting a male, no idea how big he is, but I do know he's strong as an ox and has absolutely no manners. Just a winning personality!

I am still pondering this, going back and forth as it IS hard to have two dogs, especially considering I don't have a fenced yard. And with this oncoming snowstorm, I know that walking two dogs at once is going to get even MORE difficult!

But, alas...that is my idiocy. I was thinking with my heart again instead of my brain. Still, a dog like that will probably be adopted quickly and maybe I need something to shake up my life a little, and do something that will benefit someone else in the long term.  My little Christmas Gift to someone who is looking for a good pet.

Someone talk me out of this.

Oh, and I need to provide a name and number to them as a reference. They'll be doing a home visit to verify my living conditions (ie that I live where I claim to live, I'm not an animal hoarder - they're ok with book hoarding - and that in fact, my dog is healthy and happy and doesn't seem to be abused!).

Yeah, my little cream puff is currently hanging out on the couch snoozing. Spoiled dog!

Poor thing...she has NO IDEA what is about to happen...hope she is agreeable....


In Other News:  GOOD JESUITS!

There are some really great, orthodox Jesuits out there and they are asking for help from we bloggers!   From Fr. V. at Adam's Ale comes this announcement:

From AA's correspondent in Rome we receive news of this new site which was launched on December 1st. Fr. O reports, "This is a new online magazine that offers articles from Jesuits who are committed to orthodox teaching. There are two guys from the Biblicum on their editorial board (John Gavin and Jim Swetnam), and I can attest that they are priests of the highest caliber. Both of them teach Biblical Greek there (Swetnam is retired). Gavin is also well versed in Patristics, and Swetnam has spent much of his life studying Priesthood in the Letter to the Hebrews. They asked if we could get the word out to any "orthodox bloggers" that we knew."

Now, go check out their publication, New Jesuit Review!

Gorgeous Blogger Award

I am very touched to learn that MONIALES OP has tagged me for the Gorgeous Blogger Award! Last summer I visited their monastery and have to say that I wished I'd had some of that very interesting information while I was there!

While they gave 6 little-known facts about their monastery, as I don't live in one I wonder if maybe I should give some little-know facts about my house?

Nah. My house is boring. It consists of walls and a roof and is basically a really expensive box I bought to keep my stuff in to ensure I'll be up to my eyeballs in debt for about 1,000 years after my death.

OK, so, six little-known facts about me:

1. I sang "La Bamba" and "Stand By Me" with a Blues Band in Puerto Escondido, Mexico. This was not karaoke, but an actual performance, albeit impromptu. The irony of singing "La Bamba" as an American in Mexico was not lost on me even while I did it.

2. I have been to the Shrine of Our Lady of Guadalupe in Mexico City twice, once in 1994 and once in 1996. I did not see the actual site of the apparitions, and was not actually a practicing Catholic at the time. Yet...it wasn't a waste. God knew what He was doing.

3. I was awarded "Rookie of the Year" for the Ski Patrol. It was an honor, and completely blew me away. Doesn't mean a lot now and I doubt anyone remembers. I rarely do.

4. I can only cut my own bangs a couple times before it looks like a hack job and I can't delay a good haircut any longer. As a result I only get a professional cut about twice per year.

5. Only brush with fame:

While in college I was assigned to a "mystery" security detail; my superiors asked for assistance and wouldn't tell me why. Curious, I said yes. My directions: Show up at the station at X time, but dress as a college student. Leave your uniform at home. When I arrived I was granted the temporary title of "Special Agent" and informed that an Investigator and I were part of Maya Angelou's official Security Detail.

We went to a particular location owned by the University that was hosting her and my specific job was to meet her vehicle, show my official ID and badge, and direct her driver to follow us to the official venue. Due to several circumstances they were late and her people called our people and asked us to meet directly AT the venue. We entered, made sure there was not an uprising or protest, walked among the crowds and remained vigilant with pre-set signals should any trouble arise. We learned during this time that Ms. Angelou did not sign autographs (her own personal practice of trying to maintain humility), so were surprised at the end to be summoned backstage. She wanted to thank the people who had been ensuring her safety.

I had NO IDEA what I was going to say. I was just a dumb college student meeting someone I'd studied briefly in a class, never expecting to actually come into contact with her! She greeted everyone in turn and I said the same inane thing others had said, "It was a pleasure hearing you speak." She shook my hand, glanced at me a moment, paid me a compliment with a soft smile, greeted the few behind me and then went on her way.

While driving back to school that night, I mused, "My friend Lita is going to DIE when I tell her I met her heroine! And I have NOTHING to say other than I shook her hand!"

I have never told a single soul what Ms. Angelou said to me that evening.

6. I hate talking on the phone, especially since my 5 years in Insurance with a phone attached to my head, whether I was in the office or "on the road" looking at cars. Email is preferred because that way I can deal with it when I feel like it and don't have to dial a bunch of code to get to a long message that never ends.... (much like the nature of my blog...)

TAGGING....

Charlene Duline at Prodigal Catholic Writer - A woman leading outreach to imprisoned Priests! God bless you!

Kiwi Nomad - Kiwi has great photos and commentary and you should check out her work and story.

Tina at Jake's Takes - Jake has great takes! (Jake is a Basset Hound) Please help Tina with his particular need....

Fr. Charles at A Minor Friar - I always learn something from him, especially his charity, in the proper theological sense.

Uncle Jim - Whom I miss and want to see again! (And has an epic story going on...)

Passionist Nuns at In the Shadow of His Wings - As I was tagged by a Monastery, it is fitting to tag another, especially because I have a friend there! God bless her and them and please keep all Religious Sisters in your prayers!

*

Forgiveness

This evening I had to run out to complete an errand, and when I returned, I saw evidence that my dog had gotten into something. No, it wasn't a big mess of any type, just a bit of evidence revealing that, in fact, she is a dog and sometimes finds her joy in things such as used kleenexes.

As I picked the evidence off the floor, she laid on the couch, ears up, wagging her tail as I stared at her disapprovingly. I said her name quietly, shaking my finger.

Her "tone" changed immediately from one of innocence to guilt as her tail wag decreased to wagging the tip only, she ducked her head, laid back her ears, and when I called her to me, she slithered off the couch, remaining low as she approached.

In proper fashion she "crawled" to me, turned around, sitting on my left foot, her tail tucked as tightly as she could manage. She looked upwards at me, still wagging the tip of her tail, her ears flat back against her head in her most "heartfelt" apology.

As I bent down closer to her, she took the opportunity to show her great love by giving me several enthusiastic "kisses".

Naturally, I laughed out loud as I showed her a bit of my own affection for her, immediately forgiving her. Who can withstand those puppy-dog eyes, that voracious affection and heartfelt apology?

Not I.

I'm a pushover.

What gets me, though, is that my dog's "apology" is exactly the same, no matter what her level of offense. She apologizes with the same degree of hopeful sorrow and submission, whether she's caused a disaster or whether she's done something as minor as tearing apart a used kleenex left sitting out on the coffee table.

I can't tell you how many times God has used my dog to get through to me.

And yet people wonder why Jesus compared an imploring woman to a dog in the gospels? Really?

They must not know dogs...or God!

There's a bigger message here, though.

If we are to be forgiven, we must first forgive others.

Maybe the only one we have to forgive is our dog, but in reality, we've all suffered at the hands of others, we all hold grudges, and we all nurse our wounds even as we beg for God's mercy for our own offenses.

What hypocrites we are.

Lately, this topic of forgiveness has come up over and over again, naturally getting my attention. Recently on the radio I heard a priest suggest that it is a good practice to ask God to reveal to us anyone we haven't forgiven. We aren't always aware of the grudges we are holding and perhaps don't intend to hold. In prayer, God will answer this powerful request and we can simply choose to forgive that person who has hurt us as soon as they come to mind.

There are cases where, of course, the damage goes so deep that we simply don't have the natural ability to let go. It is then that we can throw ourselves upon Our Lord and ask Him, in His Passion, to forgive that person for us, bringing us to do the same. We can do nothing without Him.

I've been working on this, not consciously aware of any particular person I haven't forgiven. Yet, since I began this prayer, a few people have come to my attention, some through random contact, others while I was in Adoration, and I've realized that I am harboring far more grudges than I ever realized.

And just "forgiving them" isn't so easy. I can't seem to let them all go, even though I don't WANT to feel any anger towards them, I don't WANT to remember their offense against me, and of course, I hope that they have also forgiven me my offenses against them, if in fact my own offenses applied.

It seems I can far more easily forgive a terrorist who killed thousands of people than I can a friend who offended me once.

That says a lot, doesn't it?

And I suspect I am not alone in this.

The other day I read a news article about a September 11 family suffering still because of the loss of their husband and father. They are still angry, eight years later. The article quoted them saying they COULDN'T move on, they couldn't let go.

As I read, it was obvious; they needed to find a way to forgive. Indeed they couldn't move on; to do so would necessitate forgiveness of their enemy.

I don't judge those people; I understand. If I were in their shoes, I'd have a hard time, too. I, too, wouldn't have room in my heart to forgive a terrorist who had taken my loved one.

Yet I CAN forgive that terrorist. It doesn't really mean a lot, though, does it? After all, the terrorist didn't kill MY family member, but THEIRS. Is he my enemy? Indeed. He hurt my country and I spent yesterday in tears at that loss of life. But there's still a disconnect. That terrorist is faceless to me in a way that he is entirely personified evil to the families directly affected.

It is really easy to forgive people who have injured us collectively, as opposed to personally.

That's the REAL test.

It's not about politics. It's not about generalities. The words of Jesus weren't asking us to forgive political agendas and the people representing them, but rather, He was asking us to dig deep and consider all those who have harmed us...ever. In any way. Maybe a sibling or a parent, a cousin, a friend. A rival in love or competetion of some sort.

Our problem with this gospel is that we legalize the definitions, applying them to our times. We "democratize" them, thinking that an "enemy" must be political, for this definition gets us off the hook.

No.

I have found that although I wouldn't define them as such for myself, the people I find it hardest to forgive are those who are or were friends. People who are in my life as loved ones, with whom I still have contact or some kind of fellowship.

They aren't "enemies" belonging to any kind of political agenda. Let's face it; I really don't care if some random German has decided to hate me because I'm American. Their hatred doesn't affect me unless that individual makes it personal, and even then, it wouldn't affect me much because, not knowing that person directly, I really wouldn't know if it was some kind of bot or just a maladjusted mental patient who had gone on random attack. (In current internet parlance, we call them "Anonymous Trolls". I might not even know of their hatred for me at all.

In any case, such an "enemy" would really be no more than a horsefly, if even that.

Jesus wasn't asking us to forgive horseflies.

His use of the term "enemy" was far more personal, far more intimate...and He meant what He said.

Our enemies are those we love, those with whom we associate, and who affect us every day. They are the people we meet on the internet and who disagree with our position. Maybe they ARE anonymous trolls who attack and run away, poor souls much like what's-his-name in Lord of the Rings, who really is more deserving of pity than hatred?

We have to forgive. That message is very very clear. We have to forgive those who injure us, who hate us, whether they are close to us or not. "Enemy" is a broad term, and it encompasses everything. No one is excluded from this.

If we desire God's mercy, then we need to be forgiving of others. That is His commandment. Love your enemies; it is no credit to any of us to love those who love us.

Even sinners do the same.

We can't excuse ourselves by saying that we are sinners.

Jesus came to save us; not to leave us to our excuses not to follow His directives for holiness.

One More Thing

We have to forgive ourselves, too.

This is perhaps the most difficult thing of all. We know when we have done wrong, we know when we have offended God. We Catholics know for certain when we have been forgiven, and we have to ACCEPT God's mercy.

We are our own enemies.

Again, recently I came across a quote from someone saying her priest had told her the following (paraphrased: "You can be certain that you are forgiven when you feel remorse for past sins."

So true. When we are tempted to beat ourselves up for stuff we did long ago, but already confessed and from which we have moved on, we must be certain to accept God's grace of forgiveness. Our ongoing contrition is indeed a sign that, truly, we are forgiven.

Remember that forgiveness and forgetfulness are two very different things. We may remember the pain, but we should do so without anger. We should remember only with objectivity, in that we are forgiven, and that we are to forgive others.

Myself, I struggle with ALL of this. I realize that I don't forgive when I should, I hold grudges, and...I have a really hard time forgiving myself for things I have long ago confessed.

All of this is an offense against the Holy Spirit. Yet God in His patience and love is ready to help us overcome our own inabilities, and simply awaits our cries. Can we recognize our unforgiveness? Or will we try to burst forward in our spiritual lives without being held accountable?

If we can't seem to move, perhaps it is because we need to forgive...others AND ourselves.

*

A Few of My Favorite Things

You dog owners....

You know how it is when you are awakened out of a dead sleep by the excruciating sound of your dog preparing to vomit? So you leap out of bed, realize it's dark and so you fumble for your glasses before turning on the light? Yeah. And then you realize you have your rosary in your hand and you have to let go of it now. And so you fumble for a spot to put it because you haven't yet figured out how to turn on a lamp or hit a switch. And your dog is already ahead of you on the stairs, but waiting, so you yell, "NO! Don't puke there!" And you find the light at the stairway and race her down, then at the bottom of the stairs you hit the light again, turning it off, and you realize you're back to not being able to see. So you turn it back on before proceeding, all the while thinking that these stupid delays are going to mean you'll be doing yucky cleanup.

And then you rush through the livingroom; the dog is already at the door, still heaving, and you know time is short (because you just stepped in some spit with your bare feet), and so you skip the leash, skip the shoes, and just take the dog out and stand out on the sidewalk of your townhome in the bitter cold, wearing only lounge pants, a t-shirt, and in bare feet. And thank God that there are no other dogs out or bunnies (which in the past have served to immediately make her forget about her sour tummy). Once you're satisfied that she is good "for now", you step back in, fumble for the leash, and find the only closest thing to put on your feet...some slipper socks, and you can't even pull them all the way on because the second you step out the door the dog stops her heaving because she sees a neighbor and is about to take off to say hello.

So you yell NO! really loudly and lounge for her collar. (Hoping to God that the neighbor doesn't look over and see you in your bare feet and minimal clothing with your hair standing on end.) And the dog seems to have forgotten she was getting sick, so you bring her in. And immediately she begins heaving again, since she had never completed her business and suddenly remembers what she had gotten you up to do. So you step back outside JUST IN TIME for her to leave her mess there and not on your feet.

And also, you're cold.

Ah, the joys of dog ownership...

Benedictines on the Brain

It doesn't help that the deep sleep had to do with a really intense dream. In between Sr. Mary's Investiture this week and reading "In This House of Brede" in which a clothing ceremony and simple vows were noted just before I went to sleep, I of course dreamed about it.

In the dream, I ended up at a Benedictine convent, completely amazed because up until that moment I thought I was Dominican. But they showed me to my room (not "cell"..it was a dream, you recall), and we were preparing for an Investiture...three of us. Apparently we had been there for awhile. We were next to a school, and I'd parked my old borrowed car in front of it. And after my hair was chopped off and I was clothed in the habit and veil, we all decided to go out for dinner. So I looked out for the car, and it was gone.

Then someone gave me one of the programs, and there was a note scribbled on it from an old roommate, with whom I haven't spoken in years (ever since I explained I couldn't be her proxy on a living will because of her Terri-Schaivo-death-like preferences.) The note was short and to the point...she couldn't understand why I was choosing this way of life and basically thought I was an irresponsible idiot. I can't remember the wording.

Knowing the source, I set out to write her a letter and explain the reasons women choose and are chosen for these Vocations.

But we had to find the car first. We didn't. As it turned out, the note-writing "friend" had come and collected the car herself and just hadn't bothered to tell me.

And so it was that, when I woke up so suddenly having to immediately take action, I thought I was wearing a habit.

As it turned out, it was just a blanket that was attached to me.

Sure wish it had stayed attached while I stood barefoot and clothed only in my t-shirt in the cold.

So how's YOUR morning going?
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Worried

(Gross word warning! ...if you don't have children or pets you might not want to read this.)

I'm a little worried about my German Shepherd. She's been vomiting almost every day. I know from experience that dogs "get sick" on occasion, and it's nothing to worry about most of the time. In fact, in the wild, that's how dogs feed their pups....second hand. (This is common in a lot of animals.) So even though that terrible wretching sound they make makes we as vomit-hating humans cringe and think how painful it must be, for the dogs, it's actually the way they were designed.

In the past I had a dog that went through a "phase" where she seemed to be getting sick a lot. Some of it was caused by eating grass, and the vet thought that maybe they eat grass in order to clean out impurities. There are lots of theories out there so I first hold to the idea that by itself, this process is not as terrible for them as it is for humans.

That said, I do think it's worrisome that my girl is getting sick more than usual. Just this week I cleaned up three messes, last weekend helped her outside quickly, the week before...two other messes. I also just found another mysterious mess, have no idea when it got there but it's getting hit with enzyme cleaner. Which I'm running out of quickly! (I had three types...all are nearing the bottom!)

With dog sicknesses, I know to look at other things; how is their appetite, their eyes (bright?), their coat, their general attitude. For my girl, all is well in those departments. She is happy and energetic as she's always been. And everything is also coming out the other end just fine.

Maybe I'm worried because the last time we went to the vet she (the vet, not the dog) mentioned that German Shepherds are prone to pancreatitis and to be alert for it. I looked up those symptoms...nothing matching what I'm seeing. Although certainly, I'll remain alert for any real illness.

At this point, as my dog sicked up her breakfast this morning, I decided not to feed her for the rest of the day. Maybe she's got something that has to be "eliminated", and of course, fasting for 24 hours won't do her harm. And then I'm going to start her on some bland food...very lean hamburger and rice, recommended by another vet in the past. It was for a different problem, but maybe if it works for problems at the other end, it'll help her tummy, too?

Or maybe I'm being a mother goose? Dog people? At what point do you worry your dog is actually exibiting symptoms that aren't normal?

I really really really can't afford an unnecessary trip to the vet, and I won't go as long as her attitude is normal and she looks at me with big sad eyes when I don't feed her. (Seriously...they can ONLY cultivate that expression when they think they're being deprived of something they think they need.....)

God's Dog

One of the parables that speaks most profoundly to my heart is about the woman Jesus calls a dog. I still remember sitting at Mass one summer morning as Father told us that he didn't know why Jesus called her a dog, so he couldn't speak to that.

But I understand why now, although I didn't then. I think that maybe you have to be a "dog person" in order to see what Jesus was getting at.

The woman was a pagan and her daughter was very sick. So she went to Jesus and withstood the derision of His Apostles, even went to her knees to beg. She compared herself to a dog who receives even the scraps from its Master's table, after Jesus tells her he can not cast to the dogs what is meant for the children.

I love this parable. I'm not the woman; I'm the dog, willing to receive what is cast off. And so was she.

It is not about an abasement of true dignity; it is a parable about digging deeper in the reality of who Jesus is, and who we are in relation to God. In our "feel-good" culture, we are seen as mentally ill if we accurately ascertain that we are dust, and to dust we will return. We are seen as "weak" if we put on the mind of God and seek to submit to His Divine will, and work to live our lives out in obedience.

Many see this comparison to a dog as a negative thing; for we are human beings, and in most of the scriptures, dogs are not captured in a very good light. They seem downright disgusting, in fact.

I feel I must step forward and defend the honor of dogs, however, because indeed, they are noble creatures, for all their...uh...habits.

In my life, I have had several dogs, each with their own personality, each with a particular lesson for me. I will not go into detail about each lesson, but rather, will discuss the generalities.

Right now, I live alone, and I got the dog I have now, a German Shepherd, shortly after I bought my house. I have a gun and I have ammo, but in the presence of a canine, I don't feel the need to keep it loaded and near at hand...as I did when I lived in south Minneapolis in a corner room with no way out.

So my dog is, first and foremost, a companion and a defender. That is something noble.

Secondly, this dog, and others that I have owned, have brought certain flaws to my attention. I remember our early months, in which she and I were still getting acquainted, and I remember some of my reactions to her canine behaviors. Her behavior was very dog-like, and even some specific German-Shepherd-like flavorings. And my reaction was less than holy. In reality, what I learned from those interactios brought me to the Confessional and to God's mercy as that dog helped me to identify my shortcomings.

I was humbled by a dog. Truly.

I've also seen other qualities out of her, things that have made me contemplate different attributes of God.

When I call, she comes. Not always, as sometimes I have to call a few times in order to get her attention. And when she comes, she is always prancing and pleased...but still maybe distracted by things outside the walls of our home. And yet I still love her and am grateful for her presence.

There are times when I have come home from work only to find her "apologizing" for something. I can't see anything obvious...there is nothing to indicate she has done something wrong. But her behavior is distinctive...her ears are back, her head is ducked, and she sits on my feet, looking upwards with big eyes, wagging the tip of her tail.

There's no mistaking it...she's done something wrong. Sometimes it's HOURS before I discover the problem. Animal behaviorists will argue that dogs don't know right from wrong. I agree, to a point; certainly they do not have the ability to discern morality, however, they DO remember what behaviors have gotten them in trouble in the past. They live mostly in the moment, but if they did not recognize what they have learned as proper behavior, they would be untrainable. Thus, they DO know when they have done something wrong, as previously defined in their experience.

And thus the apologetic behavior.

And when she comes to me with those big eyes and flattened ears, when she ducks her head in appeasement, I can't help but reach down to her, still shaking a finger, but loving her that much more. Because...she's just so darn cute!

And the loyalty...dogs are well known for their loyalty, for their devotion, for their companionship, their ability to attach to their master or mistress. Loyalty is a virtue.

So I ask you...

How much more does God love us when we have done wrong? How much more is He willing to forgive when we approach Him begging for mercy? If I, in all my sinfulness, can forgive my dog and feel my heart swell as she sits on my feet in apology, how much greater is God's mercy for us? Especially when you consider the kinds of things we as humans do and the real harm that we cause. And how much more does God demand our loyalty, and how much more meaningful is it, truly? I can only WISH I was as loyal to God as my dog is to me.

I could go on and on, but suspect it is not necessary. I know why Jesus called that woman a dog, and if He called me as such, I would recognize it as the compliment that He intended. Would that I were a dog! One belonging only to God, my loyalty pledged, recognizing my Master. Expecting to be fed, dependent upon His hand, living in the moment so as to glorify God in all circumstances.

In my more recent musings about becoming a Third Order Dominican, I have considered the symbol of a dog with a torch in his mouth. It comes from a play on words, of "Domine" (God) and "Canis" (dog). God's dog.

How proper for me. About a year ago I prayed to God, using that scripture passage, to throw me a few scraps. And indeed, He has. For God always provides. And it seems he was calling me even more deeply into that scripture...to truly become that dog, to dedicate myself more fully to Him, to recgonize Him as my master, just as a dog recognizes his Master.

Would that I would have the attributes of a dog...if I did, I'd be a lot closer to sainthood.

It never ends

Guess who's taking a trip to the Vet NOW?

Yup. We're making a trip to the vet this morning. I took my German Shepherd to the dog park a couple times this week, and yesterday there were LOTS of dogs to play with. She did a great job, fell in love with a boxer and proceeded to "herd" him all over the park. She even got jealous when another dog started playing with the boxer and began vocalizing at him. A good time was had by all.

Last night, she was exhausted, and I think she's STILL tired this morning. And because we're (finally!) supposed to get some significant rain, I was going to take her out there to play again this morning, because it will be days before the mud about to be created dries out.

But we have a problem, so there will be no play time. And no long walk in the nice cool air.

This morning she was licking her paw and seemed to be pulling something off of it, as though she had stepped in gum or something. So I got a flashlight so I could take a closer look, and the large pad on both of her front paws is abraded, that entire outer layer of tough pad is worn away. On the other paw, it's flapping. She's not bleeding, but she is clearly in pain. And this is something that needs SOME KIND of attention, although I'm not sure what to do about it.

I searched the 'net trying to find a useful veterinary article, but they all address different types of injuries, involving cuts through the pad. Nothing like this. So I called the clinic, knowing that pad injuries can become serious quickly given the use they take by necessity. And as you all know...I can't afford an expensive infection. And quite honestly, I think if I just let this go it would get worse and then we would be dealing with a REAL problem. I guess I'd rather pay the fee to have her looked at than wait. If it does go all the way through the pad, a general anesthesia is typically needed to fix it and I don't WANT to know that cost!

So this morning in a couple hours, we're heading off to the vet. I don't want to go there, and really, she doesn't either. But we will do what's necessary. Because...well, it's necessary.

* sigh *





UPDATE: It was worth the cost of the vet visit, which was minimal. She cut the flapping piece of skin that could have torn had we left it untended. And for now, we just have to avoid pavement and other abrasive surfaces. So the dog park is out for now, which is fine, because now it's all muddy, and we're entering a rainy stretch of weather. But in any case the abrasion did not go all the way through and what she has left of her pad should heal with no problem.

I tried little fleece booties on her today. She walked funny, but after a short while didn't have a problem with them. So we'll be taking our walks with "protected" front paws for the next few days. And no, I don't care how dumb it looks. I'm more interested in avoiding other vet bills by ensuring the pad won't wear through to the flesh!

She's curled up on the dog bed near me right now. You've never seen such a cute Shepherd!

Unexpected Blessings

I just love how the Lord works. He constantly blows me away with his love and mercy, with the smallest of concerns. In fact...there are no concerns too small for God. Today was a lesson in that.

I went to Adoration this afternoon, and ne of the things I prayed about was my dreams involving Fire. I know I did the right thing, I was there, I said goodbye, and yes, I miss him. Jesus and I had a great discussion about that, and he said that he speaks to us in dreams...why am I not listening? I so rarely understand when such cryptic things come to me in prayer, so I just threw my hands up as usual (so to speak) and asked him to reveal himself and what he meant. That part of my prayer was answered today; it is that other people feel as I do when they suffer a loss, and sometimes, we are in the circumstances in which we can provide that answer to another soul. I will explain.

While I was there, I sensed that I should take my dog to the dog park this afternoon for awhile. I didn't really want to go; while I love going there, today is a warm day, it's rush hour, and a thousand other excuses. And then I was guilty for being distracted in prayer. I wasn't sure what I would do, but en route home from the church, I knew I had to go to the dog park. I figured I'd let her chase a ball for awhile, give her water, and come home. And that's what happened...but there's more to the story.

This is where it gets good...

There was no one at the park when we arrived, which wasn't surprising. 4 pm on a Thursday afternoon? People are at work, and it's a hot day. My German Shepherd and I are the only nutjobs dumb enough to be out on such an afternoon.

I was thinking about leaving when a car pulled up behind mine and a woman got out with her dog. I figured my dog could use some canine contact so decided to stay. Sure enough, the new dog made a beeline for us, and the woman who arrived commented that my dog looked just like Sadie.

She asked me where I got her? "The Humane Society", I told her. "A few years ago."

She was insisting that she never thought she'd see this dog again...that was Sadie. I told her that when I adopted her, she was called "Sugar Bear" and I had to change the name.

By this time, the woman was very excited, and I was a little shocked. "That's Her! When we got her, she was called Sugar Bear! We called her Sadie! CAN I HUG YOU? We were heartbroken when my parents had to give her up!"

So this afternoon, that's how I found myself hugging a stranger in a dog park in suburbia.

For a little backstory....when I adopted my girl, the Humane Society gave me her history. First she was brought in by a girl who was going to college, so had to give her up. Then a woman adopted her for her parents, who had recently lost their dog. She had a good home with that couple, but the man was diagnosed with terminal cancer, they realized they could not care for her, so found her a home. Those people couldn't care for her so brought her back to the Humane Society. She was adopted once or twice after that, and then came to me, where she has been ever since.

The woman I met today is the same one who adopted her for her parents! She explained that they were heartbroken; they LOVED this dog to death and always wondered what had become of her. J., the woman I spoke with today, revealed that she and her husband wanted to adopt her but they had cats and "Sadie" was not good with cats. So they, too, were heartbroken because they'd fallen in love with this sweet-natured German Shepherd. J. said that she had prayed to God that she'd found a good home, and was worried she'd gone to some crazy family that ignored her or treated her badly. All she wanted to know was whether their "Sadie" was all right.

She looked at me, then, thrilled. She could see with her own eyes that "Sadie", now Tikaani, is wonderful. She's healthy, happy, and has a good home. I told her how she came to be with me and how she's been...she was familiar with some of her behaviors, asked how that had gone, and it was just an amazing conversation.

And just to make the Hand of God so clear; she was there today with a dog that does not belong to her. She is taking care of her while her relatives are out of town, but they are coming back and today was her last day at the park as she does not have a dog of her own right now.

Can there really be any doubt that my presence there today had nothing to do with me, or my dog, but the answer to a prayer for a woman who wanted a little grace,a little peace, and made her request out of love? I'm not sure which of us was more blessed today:  me, for having a front seat to God's abundant love, or her, for having recieved the answer to a humble prayer?

But there's another facet to our meeting, perhaps a much deeper one. When she pulled up behind my car, not knowing at the time that she was about to be reunited with a favored pet, she took note of my bumper stickers. I have a pro-life sticker from a verse from Isaiah: "Before you were formed in the womb I knew you..." (It says more but I forget the rest.)

She commented, "Oh! A woman after my own heart!" She explained she and her husband are trying to conceive, so abortion really ticks her off. Here they are trying so hard to bring a new life into the world, and others are slaughtering their children. They are now looking to adopt, but still have hope God may bless their marriage with their own children.

I had the sense she is not Catholic, but is a practicing Christian. I asked her if she'd heard of the Pope Paul VI center. It's not based in MN, but she asked if they have something local? She knows people who went through a Christian fertility center, but doesn't know what it's called. Since I'm not married and don't have children, I'm not familiar with local resources, so I just suggested she look into NFP or look for an NFP only doctor...I explained that there is a ton of science behind NFP and couples have used this method TO BECOME PREGNANT when faced with fertility issues. She didn't seem thrilled, so didn't comment and slightly changed the subject.

So I am asking you all for prayers for her and her husband. She seems to be a delightful person, is my age, maybe a little younger and had she not told me she has no children, I would have assumed she was a mother. She SEEMS like a mother, and is clearly a very loving soul.

She did take my email down, so if any of you, esp. from the Mpls.- St. Paul area are familiar with good Catholic and other Christian fertility clinics (read: no in-vitro, no contraceptive chemicals, no tube babies, no surrogate, etc.), please post links. I know about omsoul.org and the Paul VI Institute (I think that's what it's called)and the Couple to Couple League, but is there anything else locally? I'd love to be able to send her some links if she does email me.

Above all, keep this couple in your prayers, that the Lord will bless their marriage and grant them a new life to nurture and offer for His glory.