A Dog's Purpose...

Well, having my Internet access finally restored yesterday (after being without it for a week), I perused the major occurrences to decide what to write about... It is pretty much a continuation of the previously issued *snore*...

A Danish priest thinks we should call God "Allah" to help appease Muslims. The report mentioned, almost with surprise, that a local Muslim representative stated that they had never asked for such. I thought, "Sure they didn't, that's not deal... the message is convert fully or DIE."

Beckham scores a goal. BFD...

A "house of filth" is discovered in New Jersey. OK, I'll shut up on that one. *snicker*

There are some encouraging signs that the buried miners might still be alive... but we know nothing definetively. Please pray for them and their families.

Time for me is short this morning (as usual), so I settled for the following e-mailed item from a dear friend's spouse. If you have read it before, I apologize. If not, perhaps it will become the catalyst for some deep thought in your day as it has mine...

Being a veterinarian, I had been called to examine a
ten-year-old Irish Wolfhound named Belker. The dog's
owners Ron, his wife, Lisa, and their little boy,
Shane, were all very attached to Belker, and they were
hoping for a miracle.

I examined Belker and found he was dying of cancer. I
told the family we couldn't do anything for Belker,
and offered to perform the euthanasia procedure for
the old dog in their home.

As we made arrangements, Ron and Lisa told me they
thought it would be good for six-year-old Shane to
observe the procedure.

They felt as though Shane might learn something from
the experience

The next day, I felt the familiar catch in my throat
as Belker's family surrounded him. Shane seemed so
calm, petting the old dog for the last time, that I
wondered if he understood what was going on. Within a
few minutes, Belker slipped peacefully away.

The little boy seemed to accept Belker's transition
without any difficulty or confusion. We sat together
for a while after Belker's death, wondering aloud
about the sad fact that animal lives are shorter than
human lives. Shane, who had been listening quietly,
piped up, "I know why."

Startled, we all turned to him. What came out of his
mouth next stunned me. I'd never heard a more
comforting explanation.

He said, "People are born so that they can learn how
to live a good life -- like loving everybody all the
time and being nice, right?" The six-year-old
continued, "Well, dogs already know how to do that, so
they don't have to stay as long."

Live simply.
Love generously.
Care deeply.
Speak kindly.

Remember, if a dog was the teacher you would learn
things like:

When loved ones come home, always run to greet them.

Never pass up the opportunity to go for a joyride.

Allow the experience of fresh air and the wind in your
face to be pure ecstasy.

Take naps.

Stretch before rising.

Run, romp, and play daily.

Thrive on attention and let people touch you.

Avoid biting when a simple growl will do.

On warm days, stop to lie on your back on the grass.

On hot days, drink lots of water and lie under a shady
tree.

When you're happy, dance around and wag your entire
body.

Delight in the simple joy of a long walk.

Eat with gusto and enthusiasm. Stop when you have had
enough.

Be loyal. Never pretend to be something you're not.

If what you want lies buried, dig until you find it.

When someone is having a bad day, be silent, sit close
by and nuzzle them gently.

Be always grateful for each new day

Today, I wish you a day of ordinary miracles: May joy dance in your soul, may love fill your heart and may peace reign in your home.

Summer, Summer, Summer...

I despise the humid, hot, black fly/mosquito/spotted wing fly infested dog daze of Summertime. You can't even complete toweling off after an ice cold, deep Maine water shower before breaking into a fresh, drenching sweat. God did not build man to endure such harshness easily... and I don't. Afterall, there is nothing beyond naked to effectively enhance body cooling, and even liberals do not generally condone full exposure in public places these days, sans perhaps those in Vermont.





That being said, I will also concede that there are some things that are actually appealing about the season. For example, I delight in sarcastically reminding those who are well known to relentlessly bitch and complain during the winter months that perhaps a couple of feet of fresh, powdery snow doesn't sound so bad on a day when it feels like you have a seemingly endless brook trickling down the crack of your butt.





One of the most popular refrains in our tiny stores and post offices where people exchange daily niceties is "Hot enough foh ya'?"... To which I reply that it is hot enough for me when the mercury crests 35° F.!!





Is it not incredible and beyond explanation that these professed 'heat seekers' can possibly have any justification for their complaints, after six to eight months of lamenting the climate change that arrives religiously in these parts each September? Incredible yes, but the explanation surely resides in the fact that these same individuals have air conditioned homes, automobiles and workplaces. They don't live, drive or work in the heat for the greater part of their summer days. They, too, are the same ones who will wail and howl about the ocean temperature at their 98° beach being only 45°!





Huh??? What's WRONG with you people? It is God's provision for a natural rescue service from this simulated hell! The ocean is too cold??? Well, stand up in the ambient air temp for something surpassing 15 seconds and you will be ready to plunge back into the ice water!





The bigger question, that looms in the mind of the truly coherent, would be why these folks are living here in the first place? If they crave this type of incessant thermal torture, there are a multitude of locations that supply it in copious and regular amounts throughout the majority of the year. It is NOT the norm here. Thankfully, when this repressive heat makes its' brief but annual arrival in these northern parts, it is imported. The solution to provide these deranged folk with the oven they seek to exist in is I-95 South!





And on that note, I wish to provide them with a mantra to spread amongst their neighbors and aquaintances...





"Leaving Maine? ...Take a Friend!"





God bless those who remain behind with a smile and the longing for crisp, dry breezes laced with snow flakes and visions of winter activities in the coming joyous months of Autumn and Winter. Man can and does conveniently blanket himself with insulating layers of cotton, down and GORE-TEX®. Well planned, this allows him to move freely and happily amongst a climate that invigorates rather than fatigues.





If man were meant to live easily in Summer's cruel heat, God would have designed and installed hide-away air conditioners within each as factory equipment. He did not, and therefore I declare Summer a sick aberration straight from the mind of the Devil himself. Alas, endurance and strong will are our only hopes through the long days of Summer.





Meanwhile, the wife manages to grow some fairly spiffy flowers here and there, too. If only they were ice-proof...