Tag Archives: Dogs

Laudie-dog inquires about my favorite State Department diplomat

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The ever amazing Charlene Duline has been sick enough to land her in the hospital. We are all concerned and praying for her. Laudie-dog is anxious since it is dearest Charlene who pampers her, and Laudie-dog will not tolerate any news of Charlene not feeling well. Laudie-dog is her fur-baby. So, a prayer for Charlene, please.

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On changing course: a race course!

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Laudie-dog is pointing out one side of a two-turn race course, the deep banked holes assisting in skidding to stop after flying through the air, and, using the now banked up back yard, instantaneously turning about, flying in the other direction. Landing on the opposite side of the yard, there is the same skid to stop banked up hole, exactly the same, identical, just in reverse. Back and forth, back and forth, back and forth.

Laudie-dog looks bewildered as this race course of changing of course doesn’t belong to her. This was created by Shadow-dog because Shadow-dog thinks he’s clever. Shadow-dog is a maniac. Behold, Saint Paul speaking of when he was a maniac, running from his good religious plan right into sin and back and forth, back and forth, back and forth, with his good religious plan being the same as his sin, you know, because he is the one doing it under his own “power,” which, of course, is nothing:

“We know that the law is spiritual; but I am carnal, sold into slavery to sin. What I do, I do not understand. For I do not do what I want, but I do what I hate. Now if I do what I do not want, I concur that the law is good. So now it is no longer I who do it, but sin that dwells in me. For I know that good does not dwell in me, that is, in my flesh. The willing is ready at hand, but doing the good is not. For I do not do the good I want, but I do the evil I do not want. Now if I do what I do not want, it is no longer I who do it, but sin that dwells in me. So, then, I discover the principle that when I want to do right, evil is at hand. For I take delight in the law of God, in my inner self, but I see in my members another principle at war with the law of my mind, taking me captive to the law of sin that dwells in my members. Miserable one that I am! Who will deliver me from this mortal body?” (Romans 7:14-24).

The idea here is that Saint Paul is critiquing his manipulative usage of religion as a way to congratulate himself. Note the constant mantra of egoism – “I” – “I” – “I” – as in “I myself come up with a religious plan that I think is good for me and I’m clever and I can save myself by my religious plan because I’m so special! Look at me! Look at me! I’m saving myself! /// He’s saying that that kind of attitude is B.S., or better, Chicken S***, inasmuch as what he’s depicted himself as is a chicken with it’s head cut off, running around mindlessly like it’s all normal and good. There are those who don’t get this until they read the last verse which I didn’t  include above. You’ll see it below, but don’t read it just yet.

Let me tell you of another crowd who have been a very large part of the crisis of priests not knowing who they are, and of the abuse crisis. They knew the last verse cited further below, but purposely went out of their way to ignore this. There’s a psych institute over in Rome connected to the Pontifical Gregorian University which trains up sisters and priests in psychology to be staff psychologists at seminaries right round the world. Their guru guy, a Jesuit priest, but actually a guru guy, Rulla, cites this passage as the be all and end all of proof that God made a mistake in creating us, or better, that God created us in a way that encourages us to save ourselves with coping mechanisms, you know, to cope with all the mistakes God made in making us. In other words, as I heard one student of Rulla say, “We’re the first ones in the history of the Church to find a way to save ourselves!”

I have very many friends who went to this psych institute and I bought the expensive books of Rulla and the institute, such rubbish, and have studied it all with some intensity. I offered the critique about Rulla’s treatment of this passage of Saint Paul to one particularly close friend who was a student of Rulla. He threw such a hissy fit. He left the lunch table angry and pouting and wouldn’t sit at the same table with me or speak to me for weeks. Finally, he apologized and said I was right. Then, after many years, having become a seminary rector, he contacted me though another friend to repeat that, yes, indeed, I was right. How’s that, you ask?

My critique is that they don’t think of sin, at all, even though Saint Paul here speaks of sin repeatedly.  And that’s why they then don’t think of redemption. They don’t think of Christ. Saint Paul does. Behold: after criticizing himself, casting aside coping mechanisms such as is also a manipulative use of religion, Saint Paul points us directly and only to Jesus who is the One to save him, wretch that Saint Paul, on his own, is:

“Thanks be to God through Jesus Christ our Lord” (Romans 7:25).

Do we change course by running back and forth, back and forth, back and forth? No. Christ Jesus reaches down and grabs us and snatches us up close to His pierced Heart, and we say: “My Lord and my God.” Thank you, Jesus.

/// Having said all that, don’t think I’m against a good and wholesome psychology. If one takes up the Sacred Scriptures, the writings of Saint Thomas Aquinas and Saint Teresa of Avila and Saint John of the Cross and Saint Therese of Lisieux, to name but a few, one will be able to glean a well rounded and useful psychology, but this is all based on a good, honest friendship with Jesus Christ our Lord.

I categorize this post with “Missionaries of Mercy” because I insist on all this talk of Jesus to my own peril. One makes enemies in this way. Some years ago over in Rome, while I would ever so quietly mention my opinion, the Rulla-ites, overhearing this, would go so far as to threaten a major public debate. They were actually beginning to plot this as something to be held at the Lateran Basilica of all places, that being chosen cleverly, however, as it is the Cathedra of the Successor of Peter. Perhaps one day.

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Filed under Dogs, Missionaries of Mercy, Spiritual life

Shadow-dog Guard-dog Surveilling

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Yesterday, just down the street, multiple law enforcement agencies were at one of the many smallish assisted living homes for hours on end. There looks to have been a drug dog as well. And then the Parole Officer’s vehicle arrived. Yikes! I have no idea what was going on there, but I’m guessing that there may have been some home invasion activity. I mean, what better place to get prescription pain killers from defenseless elderly people?

Meanwhile, in my own neighborhood, copper junk was found strewn about, obviously someone cutting across yards with a haphazard armful of copper rubbish stolen so as to sell at the various junk yards, which pay top-dollar for copper.

Meanwhile, Shadow-dog is playing Guard-dog. He’s sitting on the back steps entrance into the house looking out into the back neighborhood and streets for anything suspicious. I thought he might be wanting to come in – as it’s really cold out – but no.

I tried to distract him by making all sorts of noise, but no. He did look at me once for a nanosecond as if to say, complaining: “Oh, keep quiet! Don’t you see I’m trying to protect you?” I mean, if you could have seen the look. He was very much at attention. A picture hardly conveys this. He’s not just sitting there. It’s like the whole city could vaporize in front of him so much explosive energy does he have. Very, very impressive.

  • “Goooood Shaaaadooow-daaawwwg!”
  • “Oh, keep quiet!”

And then, an analogy:

  • “Angel of God, my Guardian dear, to…”
  • “Just say the Angelus!”

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Shooting my neighbor’s dog: wrong guy

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Basset Hound

When there’s illegal gunfire in the neighborhood, Shadow-dog is quick to turn his head and look in the direction of whatever it is, a pistol, a shotgun, a rifle. I’m sure he’s, like, “What’s that and is it coming this direction?” As it is, my neighbor’s dog was shot yesterday, I’m guessing point blank, Sunday morning, when people were in church. Two other neighbors (one a retired minister and one a Vet and Firefighter) want to move away. Andrews and this neighborhood in particular is getting to be way too violent.

No one heard anything because this time it was all subsonic, a pellet gun of some sort. Pretty powerful though. The pellet struck his shoulder bones and ricocheted so as to destroy surrounding muscles and tendons. That’s what a .22 “real” bullet might do. That’s why I say that it was probably point blank. I hate that. The neighbor’s dog is a basset hound, not this one. I’ll have to take a picture of the real Frankie-dog when he gets out of surgery. I’m guessing the guy who shot Frankie-dog is going to pay that bill.

I think I might know the guy who did it. I’m thinking the guy who did it didn’t grow up around here. I don’t think the the guy who did it knows whose dog he shot. You just don’t shoot someone’s dog in Western North Carolina. No. The only one who would do that is a tender snowflake from an entitlement big city. Sorry, I’m generalizing. sigh…

Let’s just take a look at what happened when a Navy SEAL’s dog was shot, this time while he was home. This is harrowing. Kudos to law enforcement for helping him out:

Here’s the deal: people who can shoot animals just to do it can also easily just go ahead and kill human beings. Those are the stats. Yep.

But maybe this is my fault. There’s a weirdness with the mail delivery and unless you know it, it’s a little difficult to know whose address you’re really at, mine or the neighbor’s. I’d hate to think that someone wanted to do in Laudie-dog or Shadow-dog but instead got Frankie-dog. At any rate, our reaction is the same no matter whose dog.

Update: here he is…

This would have been a kill shot if it had been any more powerful.

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Shadow-dog Mud-dog happiest when…

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Whoever thinks I’m mean to let Shadow-dog become Mud-dog, totally soaking wet, totally full of mud, when it’s just barely above freezing so that we didn’t get multiple inches or feet of snow in the last few days like others did in North Carolina, at least right here in town (parts of the parish were socked), well, know this, this is when Shadow-dog is at his happiest. And, don’t worry, he has a nice, dry, sheltered house outside, and comes in at night where’s it’s warm and dry so that he can dry off and get ready for another round the next day. I include the top picture so that you know he’s got plenty of grass to run on but prefers a mud-hole in which to splash about. If you don’t know that about GSDs, German Shepherd Dogs, you know nothing at all about these creatures who are not so much dogs as wolves. They train up like Navy SEALs, doing up all the bad stuff so as to be toughened up, and love it, and never, ever quit. The last thing to do is feel sorry for a Navy SEAL or for a GSD. If that’s how you feel, like feeling sorry, you yourself have to be brought to another level. And that’s the thing about heroes. You don’t say they are great and that’s it. You strive to be like them in what ways you can, and you can. Let’s take some close-ups so that we know what we’re talking about:

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Shadow-dog. My hero.

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Shadow-dog Gladiator-dog: Teaching session

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The heavy knotted short-rope, which is like, say, an enemy intruder (I have a good imagination!), is a good demonstrator tool for Shadow-dog who makes me his student in his gladiator school. In the above picture we see how one is to toss ever so calmly one’s adversary into the air with a gentle side-spin so that, in follow-up, one might put one’s entire weight and strength into viciously ripping in the opposite direction, which violent ripping could easily shred to pieces whomsoever the adversary happens to be:

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This ripping spinning motion will spin Shadow-dog himself about 180 degrees and the adversary round about some 540 degrees, and back and forth multiple times so very violently in just nanoseconds, so that I’m thinking he himself is going to be ripped in half, growling so loudly that all the neighbors either laugh with glee at the protection against home-invasion that they all have with Shadow-dog in the neighborhood, or half die of fright with the show that is put on. Meanwhile, Shadow-dog is the friendliest dog around. And the neighbors know that too. He’s so smart. Gooooood dooooggiieee!

You can always tell how good a dog is by how willing they are to teach you their tricks in their justifiable efforts to make you part of the team. Part of being more alpha than a forever alpha dog like a German Shepherd wolf is to be a good partner with him in the job that needs to be done. That’s when they’re in their element.

An absolutely inadequate and inappropriate analogy for which I beg the pardon of my guardian angel, who guards not a dog but me, nor learns from me but rather instructs as John was instructed: “I am a fellow servant of yours” (Revelation 22). But also our guardian angels are in their element, so to speak, when we are with them as fellow servants, fellow slaves, co-workers of our Lord. They teach us how to be warriors, so to speak, in this Church militant, where we fight as best we can to keep the faithfulness and hope that are given to us, the purity of heart and agility of soul that are given to us, the love of God and neighbor that is given to us. We are made into a show, of God’s goodness, really, as Saint Paul has it. Gladiators for God. Shadow-dog is a good example in his own way.

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Shadow-dog Bite-dog: action training [Note on Situational Awareness]

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  1. Step 1: Get a good look at your adversary, individuating and isolating.
  2. Step 2: Subdue your adversary in any way you can, say, under a paw, making sure that the adrenaline is pumping:

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3. Step 3: Chew up your adversary and spit him out.

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Situational awareness demands a certain low-level of adrenaline that is at the ready to be pumped up instantaneously; otherwise it’s all intellectual and useless, even hurtful as is a sense of overconfidence. GSDs are always a bit on-edge, made to be that way with super-sensitive sensory receptors: they’re all nose and ears and eyes, with height and strength to carry all that.

Analogy with the spiritual life: We do well to be on edge for the sake of our friendship with the Lord Jesus. We remain weak in this world looking to Him to be lifted up into His strength and truth and goodness and kindness… but we are so weak. To be on-edge over against our triple-adversary – the world, the flesh and the devil – we have to have the humility to realize that we could fall prey at any time and in any way and that there is nothing we can do about that except to lifted up into the strength and truth and goodness and kindness of our Lord, remaining with Him no matter what, that steadfastness in our Lord’s grace putting the death-bite on our triple adversary. It’s the bond of love with God, who is love, keeping us on-edge. It’s all about Jesus. He’s the One. He’s the only One.

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GSD: “You have to be bad to be good”

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Shadow-dog has been racing about on his patrol, looking like the idiot-dog by practicing his spot-turns on the snowy-wet mud path he’s carved into the backyard. This sprays mud into the air as if his paws are spinning knobby off-road tires of a climber-jeep. When the acrobatics get a bit complicated, he gets himself on an intense learning curve… mid-air. And then… crash. But he gets better at it.

My mom once reprimanded me for the doing this kind of thing – being bad in order to be good – she not quite getting the gist of the process, trying to keep me from getting broken bones while she fretting during some of the more complicated maneuvers of my extreme sports. What she didn’t know is that what I was doing was surely keeping me away from broken bones. You have to be bad in order to be good.

Drawing the analogy with, say, prayer, whereby prayer is an extreme sport, whereby you are brought along without being in control of any progress, our Lord accomplishing a friendship with Him which we could not set as a goal or have any helps or coping mechanisms to lean on while He does this in His way. When He is lifted up on the Cross, He said, He will draw all to Himself. That means He’s drawing us through all the hell that was broken out on Calvary. We already know that we’ll be stupid enough to try to depend on our own strength which we actually don’t have ourselves anyway, and therefore in this way we will surely pull away from Him in this way and that, and we will look mighty stupid in all of this. But He is very patient, and we slowly learn in His grace that He is more important than our ongoing distractions, and we allow ourselves in whatever distraction that hell has to offer, to be stably with Him. Have no fear. You have to bad to be good, you know, not on purpose. No. But go ahead and just tell our Lord, in His grace, “Yes!” You want to begin. You will surely confront your weakness of stupidly depending on your own strength. But that’s part of it. You’re name might be mud for a while. Have no fear. That will turn to a name He gives you, that, as it says in the Good Book, is only known to you and Him. When He calls your name, you’ll be standing right before Him, perhaps with mud all over your face, but – Hey! – you’ll have learned to stand right before Him. And that’s where we want to be.

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Shadow-dog “rewnt” by firefighters who themselves are not spoiled at all

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Some of our volunteer Firefighters came by the other day and mulched up the inner sanctum so that it’s less muddy for Shadow-dog and Laudie-dog. The dogs are totally spoiled, that is, in local pronunciation, “rewnt,” um, ruined.

Meanwhile… meanwhile… the town of Andrews seemingly has not been treating our firefighters in any good way even while they risk their lives on a daily basis for us all. Their equipment is waaaaaaay out of date, and therefore dangerous. Seemingly, no one really cares enough to solve all of this in any effective manner.

And even worse, it seems our town firefighters are locked out for the longest time from emergency calls, it seems for political reasons. Beep! but then no message. Then you hear the county fire department going to the call while the town is locked out. I’m just hypothesizing, but I’m thinking that this seemingly purposely faulty communication is putting the local populace at mortal danger for political ends. Just wait until someone dies because our firefighters don’t show up and the family has an attorney. I’m wondering if those who are seemingly negligent, you know, seemingly on purpose, will all end up in prison.

I mentioned this seeming negligence to someone, saying that firefighters might die because of how poorly they are equipped. That person said, to my horror, “Let them die. Let them all die. That’s the only way people will learn.” I’m still horrified, a year later. Firefighters are the cream of the crop.

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Smiling even asleep. Just for cute.

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2018-11-17 · 11:30 am

State Department: treats to Laudie-dog, Shadow-dog and this donkey

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Did you ever notice that Shadow-dog is much bigger than Laudie-dog? When it comes to treats, Shadow-dog is always the perfect gentleman, letting little Laudie-dog get her treat.

Dearest Charlene Duline, the best diplomat of the State Department that the world has ever known (now retired) – and long-time helper of Father Gordon MacRae, has just sent in a big jug of dog treats along with a box of treats for yours truly. I am humbled.

The thing is, she just had a really bad fall recently and is still going to be recovering for some time to come. How she was able to do this I don’t know. Her favorite of all of us, of course, is Laudie-dog, who, I must admit, is as sweet as ever.

If only I could get Main State to send me something else:

blue

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Laudie-dog, earthquake-dog

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I heard the earthquake, kind of like a distant shotgun. At the same time I felt a tiny jolt, and then an ever so gentle hammock-like sway. Five seconds total. Probably out of scope on any scale. No one else I talked to noted anything. But Laudie-dog, who was sleeping, went instantly into nightmare mode. I woke her up and she came over to be reassured.

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Dog psychology. No, really!

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That’s actually the snarkiest smirkiest most poker-faced Laudie-dog I’ve seen in a long time: “Oooo! I wish I were in that cage (hahaha).” “No, no! I’m king of this cage,” says Shadow-dog. Meanwhile, Laudie-dog wants nothing to do with the cage, but her antics make Shadow-dog think he’s the luckiest dog in the world to be in a cage.

But really, for those who don’t know, there are certain kinds of GSDs who are still so much like wolves that they really do need a quiet space cave hole under a tree stump forest hideaway in order to really rest well, as this is what they would have in the wild. It’s not cruel. He runs, nay stampedes to his cage when I let him in the rectory. I’ve left the door open and there he stays, wishing the door were shut.

For those scandalized by the dog hair on the floor, you have to know that German Shedders can do that overnight with their double coats (and even triple if you count the longer sparser protection coat). It’s a daily chore to toss shopping bags full of hair. But that’s O.K. Any exercise is good.

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Shadow-dog commands. No fingers crossed behind my back.

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I’m guessing that if a priest takes a day off it has to be put in scare quotes: “Day-Off”. First on the agenda for me the other day on the “Day-Off”, at about 3:00 AM, was to edit the article written by Father Gordon J. MacRae (About) over on TheseStoneWalls entitled “Assassin’s Deed” (what a fright!), which, this time, included at a zillion pictures. Father Gordon says that editing counts for visiting those in prison. Never an easier visit.

At the very end of the day, some 18 hours later, when I got back to the rectory, I noticed the top picture of this post which came in an envelope from Father Gordon along with his post for next week. Hahaha. This is, of course, what Father Gordon thinks of all my carry on about our intelligence services. Hahaha. Of course, I laughed out loud because, of course, he’s spot on. But, I digress.

Yesterday, a comment came in for moderation which included this appraisal:

“One thing love about you is how much you love being a priest. In another era your affinity for “spies” might have made you a great underground Jesuit somewhere where it was illegal to be a Catholic priest.”

“Another era…” Hmm… Let’s continue on the “day off.”

About 7:00 AM Sassy the Subaru was put in gear for an easy downhill ride to northeast Atlanta. If you’re ever passing through northeast Georgia, I recommend taking Hwy 19 with its frighteningly tight curves. It’s Georgia’s answer to the Tail of the Dragon up from my parish. Anyway, I had to complete the purchase of some specialized tactical items that had been on back order for some months and the order some other items that needed the know-how of a supervisor to put it through. What happened next on my “day-off” at FBI Atlanta certainly raised my eyebrows. But that’s best put in another post…

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GSD Special Ops

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The moment you realize your GSD has had more special forces training than you thought he had. This is surely NOT Shadow-dog with dirt-colored camo paint… Or… is it? No, no. The fences at the back of the yard are not the same. Whew!

Actually, this was sent in by a reader bringing this over from conservative treehouse.

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No more Buddy

Lots of things go on out front of the rectory. One of those things was the death of the neighbor’s ultra friendly huge dog (something like a cross between a Bullmastiff and a Pit Bull), but actually super friendly. He was young, apparently in perfect health. Dead, just like that, for no apparent cause, no injuries, no blood, during the night. Too sad. Meanwhile, Laudie-dog and Shadow-dog, who stay in at night, are just fine.

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Dog life: Take your corner

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Laudie-dog likes the far left corner. Shadow-dog prefers the far right corner.

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We did some capital improvement on the back yard of the rectory, putting up a fence which doesn’t at all mark the boundaries of the property but which rather simply gives more room to the dogs to move about and get some exercise.

Having chosen their corners, that hard work was done for the day. Their favorite place is together right back at the back porch of the house. I love that.

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Crackheads scoping home invasion

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The dogs are just playing. Note the no-teeth thing of Shadow-dog.

Home invasions usually take place during the day, not at night. The low-lifes wait until no one is home, usually during the day. And everyone else is gone, so no one is looking while they break in.

I was away at the supermarket and, I’m told by someone in the neighborhood who happened to be home, that a couple of crackheads were standing about 15 feet in from the road on the lawn scoping out the side of the house. He would know. He deals with the druggie “community” all the time. And it’s always the same people all the time.

Shadow-dog and Laudie-dog were letting them have it with barking. The dogs know who’s who right away. They absolutely didn’t care. And that’s what the firemen up at the hall told me, that professional robbers don’t care about dogs, as, without breaking their pace, they’ll just kill the dogs (using suppressors) and then smash through the doors or windows.

Anyway, that certain someone in the neighborhood told me he made sure that he had some wherewithal with him (though he could handle himself bare-handed) and then made it very obvious that he was noticing the presence of the crackheads. They then left. That’s when I came back.

I notice crackhead “gate-keepers” hanging out at the top of the street a couple of hundred yards away, especially recently, watching who’s home and who’s not I suppose, noticing when people do stuff or are away. Others “gate-keep” the opposite way, also a couple of hundred yards away, on some steps for our veterans memorial.

These’s guys aren’t always too aware of who they’re scoping out. Recently, one home-invader broke and entered into the home of USMC Sniper with a long list of confirmed kills, stealing most of his guns and huge collection of knives. That’s the guy you don’t ever want to do that to.

What a world. Heaven, instead, will be heaven.

Anyway, I’m happy to have Laudie-dog and Shadow-dog around.

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Double reverse psychology trick

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Shadow-dog is slightly larger than Laudie-dog. But Laudie-dog is, apparently, smarter than Shadow-dog. She successfully took over Shadow-dog’s wolf-cave. She is just so laughing on the inside at her brilliant pawipulations. Shadow-dog looks bewildered that he’s been had in his own wolf-cave by someone who’s not even a wolf. Laudie-dog has the run of the whole house, so I told her to come out, and she did, happy to show me, however, that she’s definitely top dog. Shadow-dog was content that he had his own kingdom once again.

Mind you, it’s not that Laudie-dog wanted to take over Shadow-dog’s cave. It’s that she wanted to make sure that he’s jealous of his wolf-cave, so that he insists on staying there and is not tempted to cry to have run of the house as well. Hah.

Meanwhile, Shadow-dog is no fool. He plays the game, letting Laudie-dog think that she has tricked him so that she is content now to stay out of his wolf-cave, banished to life outside the wolf-cave. Double HahHah! His bewildered look above is instead a pleading with me to play along with him in his double-reverse ploy. Yes. Fine. I’m good with that.

Meanwhile, they’ve both teamed up to manipulate me… pawipulate me into thinking that I’m the true landlord of the house. At any rate, everybody’s happy.

I have to wonder how our guardian angels deal with the likes of us. Jesus says that they see the face of God right now, and then… and then… there’s us. Goodness!

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Of wolves, sheep, serpents, doves

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I’ve been thinking a lot about wolves these days, enough to research the beasts in the North Woods of Minnesota whence I hail, monsters named after the abundance of trees used tactically in groups of these conscienceless Timber Wolves.

It might be that Shadow-dog has slightly less shagginess around the jowls and only slightly less roundish ears, but he’s definitely the height and length and weight of a Timber Wolf, the Gray Wolf of “legend” (because we’re scared to think of these marauders as being real).

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His killer instincts are still shining brightly. When he wants to prove this, while growling, he takes his “basketball” in his teeth and rips it so violently from side to side that it is crystal clear that he could literally rip any creature, man or beast, limb from limb.

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Jesus uses precisely this ferocity of wolves to describe how sheep are tossed about, torn to shreds by unscrupulous wolves who kill just to kill.

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Jesus bids those sheep to be that like that which frightens even wolves, that is, like clever serpents. Mind you, clever serpents are even worse in that a clever serpent is the image used in Genesis for the now fallen angel, Satan. Meanwhile, recalling the Holy Spirit, the sheep, the children of God are to be, in all their cleverness, innocent.

Meanwhile, in such a confusing maelstrom, Satan dresses up the wolves like sheep so that they have the killer venom of Satan himself.

But that doesn’t fool the children of God, whose innocence in being forgiven, carries the very love of God that cuts through mind games Satan thinks to be clever, games of violence, of deceit, which lack all wisdom because lacking in love.

Meanwhile, Shadow-dog has lots of love for yours truly. He’s very playful, affectionate, and I think of the Creator of all, our Heavenly Father’s wisdom, and love.

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