Tag Archives: Shadow-dog

Shadow-dog the Surveillance-dog: happy happy

That’s facing West towards the driveway, from which arrival of the food-bearer is to be noted. But, with me being home, moments later he’s facing East, toward the usual approach of those wanting to attempt a home-invasion, until they meet up with oversized Shadow-dog:

Shadow-dog got a new doghouse yesterday evening. It’s set up quite a bit higher up to avoid any flooding. Apparently, just in time, as Ian is also set to drop lots of rain here in the mountains.

I’ve been trying to get a number of people I know down in Florida to evacuate, including my “Shadow.” You don’t think it can happen to you, until it does.

Oh, and Shadow-dog also got a new bed under the desk where I write. He loves it.

By the way, that special heavy-traffic grass does get trimmed a couple of times a year. That’s coming up soon. It’s the only thing that will keep that inner sanctum of the backyard from turning into a sea of mud. Seas of mud are the would-be joy of Shadow-dog. He’s the consummate German Shepherd.

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Flowers for the Immaculate Conception (second breakfast before Mordor, ed.)

So, there I was, watering the fiery day lilies, flowers for the Immaculate Conception. All was well. Three Hail Marys for the souls in purgatory…

Boom! A rabbit sprang out of the foliage and chased about in circles, then sprinted to the back of the house. Surely it’s a minion from Mordor, eating flowers for the Immaculate Conception with impunity. Surely, thought I, that rabbit would make for a good second breakfast before Mordor happens upon us.

And surely our Lady had her head on a swivel, looking for any second breakfast for Joseph and little Jesus while down in Egypt, living in exile in the midst of enemy Mordor back in the day. You never know where your next meal is coming from. Don’t ignore the second breakfast that comes your way, like I just did.

But, silly me. I ignored this chance at a second breakfast and continued my Hail Marys for the souls in purgatory, now getting to the far side of the house, watering the tomatoes.

Finally, at the back of the house, next to the asparagus patch, I saw it, Shadow-dog showing me how to do up a second breakfast without hesitation.

Um… Are they really looking at each other there? … … … Just one crunch and a gulp. Good daaawg!!! Shadow-dog is a bastion of defense over against any minions of Mordor eating flowers for the Immaculate Conception. The way I look at it, one for him, one for me. I can fire up the rocket stove easy. As for Shadow-dog’s own reaction to this easy second breakfast he had to get himself, reprimanding me:

  • “I didn’t share any of this with you, Father George. After all, you forgot my second breakfast this morning, didn’t you? I mean, you do know about second breakfasts, don’t you? You’ll regret not having a second breakfast when Mordor arrives in full force. There’s no time to wait.”

A Hail Mary for the conversion of the other minions of Mordor still in this world who are now on the attack against those who cherish life from natural conception to natural death. Hail Mary… And another Hail Mary for the protection of good souls in this world. And another Hail Mary for the souls in purgatory, who will especially pray for those who pray for them!

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Shadow-dog proven loyalty-dog

The vet’s been having me put Shadow-dog on a diet saying that less weight will cut down the risk of hip dysplasia. Since losing some weight, he’s running more than ever, incredibly acrobatic in chomping on carpenter bees who challenge him. He’s lightning quick.

For me as well, yesterday was insanely busy. Run run run. Meeting, meeting, meeting. Phone call, phone call, phone call. Holy Mass and a zillion Confessions throughout the day, including my own. I love Confession. Our majestic Lord Jesus is good and kind.

Getting back to the rectory just at nightfall I did the perimeter walk to check on the garden, harvesting the daily handful of asparagus.

And then I saw it. My heart sank. Oh. No. The gate of the backyard fence was wide open and had been all day. I didn’t think of possible home invasion at all. Instead, my only thoughts were:

WHERE’S SHADOW-DOG?!

One second later, there he was, doing his own border patrol, just glancing up at me as he ignored the wide open gate as if it weren’t open, continuing on his merry way, making sure all is safe and secure.

I was awestruck. I’ve been underestimating Shadow-dog altogether. What a wonderfully loyal dog. This is what GSDs are all about. His job is to hold down the fort, not to investigate the neighborhood, not to go play with the neighbor dogs, not to chase after cars, not to harass the local druggies on their drug runs. He’s totally happy holding down the fort.

How cool is that? Needless to say, he got a lot of lovin’ for being such a good daaawg! His diet was enhanced with an evening meal of canned-meat dog-food and dog treats sent in by dearest Charlene.

Of course, Shadow-dog is wondering what all the fuss is about, that it’s all good, that he’s only been doing what he has to do as any GSD.

Analogy time: All of us have a vocation to do what we have to do: God’s will, which is, in loving Jesus by way of the grace He provides, keeping the commandments. But we’re not forced. The “gate” of the fence is open, as it were. We can chase off and do our own will. But we are only happy when accomplishing the will of God by way of God’s grace in our lives. Our joy is to see the open gate and do God’s will anyway, and with joy. Thank you, Jesus.

  • “When you have done everything commanded of you, you should say, ‘We are unworthy servants; we have only done our duty.’ ” (Luke 17:10)

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Shadow-dog training, morphing, losing his naïveté in a violent world

Shadow-dog has been missing Laudie-dog. You can tell by little behaviors. Me too. For instance, while there’s plenty of canned dog food, there’s also a dry-dog-food bin with which to alternate. There’s been two measuring cups in that bin for years, one is huge, made out of pryex, for Shadow-dog, and another, a smallish plastic measuring cup for Laudie-dog. It’s been how long since Laudie-dog died? And it’s only now it hit me that her measuring cup doesn’t need to be in that bin any more? It’s one of those thousand moments when you’re more self-aware that currents run deep…

Meanwhile, Shadow-dog, alone in holding down the fort, has been upping his game with ripping things to shreds as pictured above with his martial arts rope. He uses centrifugal force with great precision much like nunchaku. His greatest de-escalation technique is still his attention-getting voice, his greatest weapon his teeth and jaws, not that he’s ever had to use the latter.

Meanwhile, however great a fighter Shadow-dog might imagine himself to be, he’s still filled with naïveté.

Meanwhile, one of our police officers of retired fame, totally a dog guy, apparently got scared ****less (the description of the neighbor) when he stopped by (I wasn’t home). Running over to the neighbor, he had exclaimed: “I didn’t know Father George had a Bite-Dog!!! He’s huge!!!”

I admit, Shadow-dog is a bit intimidating, as he comes in quite a bit taller than the usual upper-max GSD height. All muscle, as he trains all day. He’s at the top of his game right now. But he’s also morphing, though he’s on the younger side of middle age. He’s losing his jet blackness. I think sanfelipe007 told me that would be the case years ago. Tell-tail wolf-brown patches have started in behind all four paws.

I’m imagining this is his new camouflage needed for upcoming golden-years, as it were. It’s a big, bad world out there and he’ll need all the help he can get. He’s also having to lose some of his naïveté, an ultra-socialization that was instilled into him during his first 18 months before I got him, eating, as he did, at the high-school cafeteria every day. The more trained up, the more camouflage, the more he’s a realist, the more loyalty he’s developing.

Shadow-dog got smacked hard on his snout last week, opening up a shallow but tender wound. Who knows how that happened, but I’m thinking someone reached over the fence to fake-pet him but instead smacked him hard with some sort of straight-edge. It’s healed now. He’s tough. But I’m sure he doesn’t like that treatment, not for himself, not for any other dogs. A stranger that mistreats a dog is how to make a dog an enemy and make him more loyal to his territory and owner at the same time.

Meanwhile, while Shadow-dog loses his naïveté, he also demonstrates that he has a big heart. He has a kind of crying mixed with anxiety mixed with anger mixed with eagerness to help when he hears bad and evil things going on in this part of town. I’m told that he was making this kind of commentary the other day. One of the neighbors said they heard what sounded like a dog who just got mortally wounded and was screaming bloody murder a bit further away in our part of the town, with shots fired and police called. Of course, animal abuse is a felony in North Carolina. Police are especially interested in stopping this, not only to rescue the animals, but because if someone’s hurting an animal, it’s pretty much guaranteed that human beings are being treated in the same way. Everyone had already fled.

Meanwhile, no matter how trained up and ready for the big bad world we think we are, we always have more naïveté to lose than we would ever care to admit. Some of us have already seen really a lot of bad and evil things in this life. I myself have seen really a lot of evil in every sector of society right around the world, from the very bottom to the very top, and it just continues, so much so that that I’m quite continuously exclaiming that I’m just so very naïve. My parishioners can testify to this.

I think this is a good thing to lose one’s naïveté, so as to see things as they are, and who we really are before God and neighbor. The best way to do this, everyday, is to behold Jesus as the Lamb of God who takes away the sins of the world, you know, with the wounds still upon His risen body. Stare at the wounds, lose naïveté. Jesus often spoke of malicious wolves, and our own selves being sent out amidst the wolves who would make sport of us, tossing us about and ripping us to shreds, you know, as the Master so the disciple. How can we not see those wounds? How can we not lose our naïveté?

The perfect camouflage in a bad and evil world is to look like a criminal in the bad and evil world, but in this way to so let our light shine before men…

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Laudie-dog the Fire-Walker-dog, Shadow-dog the Dance-of-Death-and-Martial-Arts-dog

I’ve gotten quite a number of hints that I haven’t been posting enough about Laudie-dog and Shadow-dog. Today’s the day.

Laudie-dog, the fiery-orange dog as the fire-dog was captured in the picture above was last evening. For about the last six months she’s become quite a bit more frail in her old age of eleven to twelve years. She gets super-pampered, of course. She’s the princess! Treats have recently been hand-delivered by a guy who, in his 28 year military intel career, once was in the habit of messing around with DISA across from the NSA. Laudie-dog very much likes both the shish kabob and the bacon treats, as does Shadow-dog.

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Meanwhile, Shadow-dog is forever the dance-of-death-dog, as was captured in the picture below early this morning. His shadow seems to be more solid than himself as he dances the death of the rope he’s ripping to shreds. The rope, mind you, is 1.5 inches in diameter, and three feet long but with five huge knots, bringing the real length to six feet and weighing in at just over two pounds, the average weight of a full grown Timber Rattler or Crotalus horridus horridus. The rope itself, being ripped about like this at lightning speed, can just about break your leg if it hits you as you walk by. I know. And Shadow knows this as well. He’s proud to report his advances as a martial artist with his arsenal of weaponry.

Shadow is at the perfect age, at the top of his defense game over against the constant flow of druggies around the house, but is also the perfect gentle-dog with me. He’s now inside with me at night, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t perfectly aware of what’s going on outside. The other night, for the first time, he went ballistic at the front door and then came running through my little rectory to get me, insisting that I follow him as he barked at the front door. That scared off whoever was there. Now they know not to mess with this house at night.

Maybe. In Kansas the other day, a cop was at home for a quick nap, cruiser in the driveway. Someone, awaiting the opportunity for terroristic threat logistics, grabbed the cop’s puppy silently, perhaps a baseball bat to the head to keep it quiet, removed the dog to another location, beheaded the puppy, brought the body back (not the head), smashed the house open to dump the dog inside (blood everywhere, of course), then fled, knowing the cop was inside and would come to that door but would be stopped.

Stats are that anyone who does that to an animal will do that, will already have done that to human beings. Here’s the puppy, just before all that, alive, just like a little Shadow-dog:

This reminds me of a couple of other dogs:

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Shadow-dog steps up accompaniment

I was bringing in groceries the other day, leaving the gate open as Laudie-dog was in the house and Shadow-dog never wants to venture out of the yard. But this time he surprised me and ran out and straightaway jumped into the back of Sassy the Subaru… and he wouldn’t leave the back end of the car. He’s saying:

  • “From now on there ain’t no way you’re going away without me being with you, little Georgie. It’s scary out there. I know, because I’m here when you’re gone, and you have no idea what I keep away from the homestead.”

Of course, that would involve heaps of very expensive training, harnesses, permits (for which I’m not necessarily qualified), etc. I’d rather have him watch over the homestead. We still have no police on active duty.

If I do get him down from the car I just have to say “Up!” and he flies into the back, happy as ever. Still gotta wonder if he was on his way to being trained up as a drug dog. There are some things that just come natural to him. If I did bring him with me, Subaru has a kind of fence you can install way in the back or maybe aftermarket dealers make the same for behind the front seats (with the back seats folded down). That way I could leave him locked in the car with the back windows half down and the front windows all the way down. Anyone reaching inside the front to unlock the doors manually so as to jack the ignition will set off the factory installed car alarm, also setting off a bark-alarm. Shadow could, I imagine, rip down any such fence if he wanted and make quick work of the car-jacker. ;-)

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Dogs eating Easter Rabbits & Easter eggs: Humor lightening it up a bit

Shadow-dog, setting a good example, has most excellent over-the-top skill sets in hunting and shredding and then devouring “Easter Rabbits” with their baskets of eggs.

The Easter Rabbit comes from a time of fasting in which no meat at all was eaten during lent, not even rabbits. But now, with rabbits having had time to proliferate during Lent, they are everywhere just waiting to be devoured as part of the celebration of Easter when there is not fasting.

The Easter eggs thing comes from a time of fasting in which no eggs[!] at all were eater during lent. At Easter, there is no such fasting, and everyone would immediately hunt down all the eggs they could find, both eating them and, in their rejoicing that Lent was over because our dear Lord and God and Savior was now risen from the dead, they would decorate those eggs and give them to others, encouraging rejoicing all the more.

Dogs killing Easter Rabbits with baskets of eggs for the devouring of all and sundry. Great! Perfect card for Easter, actually. Kill that meat-rabbit! Eat those eggs!

Happy Easter!

By the way, Shadow-dog has been practicing right along to kill that rabbit and sack the eggs:

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Karma perimeter breach at the rectory. Razer-wire fence sitting humor. ;-)

It’s not always the case, but the other night Laudie-dog and Shadow-dog were both inside with me. But then, at zero-dark-thirty (as always), one of the local thugs knocked quietly on the outer walls of the rectory, surely not to get my attention, but to see if he could get the attention of the dogs. I’m sure the dogs would have been shot yet again with a pellet gun had they been outside. Shadow-dog has now been shot some eight times plus a 9mm to his dog house since he adopted me by way of the Police Department, while Laudie-dog has been shot twice since I’ve had her and once more before she adopted me.

Laudie-dog is a Rhodesian Ridge Back Lion Dog, but Shadow-dog is so huge that he can hardly use Laudie-dog as a pillow just below my bed. So sweet!

Anyway, something must have spooked the thug, maybe someone driving by out front, and he ran in the direction of the drug-house through the creek-side of the back yard of the rectory. Of course, maybe he was smacked by a feather of my guardian angel to get him running full speed. :-)

On the creek-side of the back perimeter of the property there’s four-foot high goat-wire fence, plain as day for all to see, even at night if my flood-lights are on; the lights are about as bright as the sun as pretty much everyone in town informs me. This guy seems to have run full speed right into the goat wire. I’m not sure what that makes him… The neighbor pointed out the destruction to me the next day, calling me up all upset. Together we noted the dynamics of how the fence was violently stretched out of shape blown out from the rectory side of the fencing. The goat wire is attached to the chain-link fence on the one side, but just stands loose and is lightly wrapped around a tree on the far side by the creek (not attached at all).

I can only imagine the scene of this guy running into that fence, flipping him head over heels, having him hit his head hard on the cement driveway of the neighbor. Ouch! Karma? Not so sure about that. How about irony. No, there’s got to be something more personal. Let’s see… my Guardian Angel! Yes, I think that’s it.

I immediately smashed into the ground a couple of what we Minnesotans call snow-fence posts along the fence line as a temporary measure. These were from the once-upon-a-time hermitage, after which I gave them to yet another neighbor. He’s re-envisioned his garden for next Summer and just gave them back to me.

That’s just temporary. The goat wire will be tied up much more sturdily, and I’ll be adding some more lengths of goat wire fencing on the creek side with the help of yet more posts. Meanwhile, the back yard neighbor – really nice guy – gave me quite a lot of barbed wire to add to the top. Heheheh. Of course, any good thievery tools will be able to cut down all the fencing within seconds. I don’t put my trust in fences. I just want to do what I can to protect the dogs. This is also to protect the neighbor at the back. The creek is a kind of highway for the druggies and home-invaders. My neighbors, especially those with little kids, don’t like all the heroin needles and ruffians around the back doors of their homes. The little goat-wire fence helps to dissuade the dark side from making this their avoid-the-police path.

Meanwhile, a funny story about fences and priests:

Some tough church ladies told me a funny story down in Australia as I was installed as the new pastor in that outback parish. I was in Australia to teach in the new country seminary, and the bishop had me doubling up the work by having me do up some trouble-shooting, having me also follow an all-too-weak priest who was doing way too much fence sitting. His fence sitting upset the tough church ladies, and so they hauled him aside and told him the truth of the matter in no uncertain terms, no fence sitters they:

  • “You can’t be sitting on the fence these days, Father, because these days we make fences out of razer-wire.”

Perfect. I love that. Church ladies are always tough.

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State Department’s Charlene and the fur-babies (even I was included)

Charlene is one of the toughest people I know. She has all sort of things going on – including having a fall the other day – and yet she finds time to send treats to Laudie-dog and Shadow-dog, for which they dance for joy. It’s really something to see. This time there was something also for me in the Amazon box in the carport. It’s what’s in the purple tie-bag in the picture. I’m thinking that it’s a Christmas Rum Cake. Mmmm Mmmm. Thank you, Dearest Charlene. Merry Christmas to you. Blessings upon you. And thanks for remembering this donkey-priest. You are very kind. And for your health: Hail Mary…

And I had better give an update on Laudie-dog. She finishes her antibiotic meds at 4:00 PM this afternoon. It’s been every eight hours for seven days. But the wound is all healed up and even a bit of hair is growing back. The main thing is that she’s a very happy puppy. Charlene has made sure of that. I’m so happy she has.

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Marcus Luttrell’s DASY, John Wick’s Daisy, Fr George’s Shadow-dog & Laudie-dog

Marcus is the Lone Survivor Navy SEAL guy, married, with kids, your normal Texan. Back Stateside, provided a service dog, he named the dog after his team: D.A.S.Y. That is:

  • Danny = Daniel Phillip Dietz Jr: Navy Cross, Purple Heart – 25 years old (RIP)
  • Alexson = Matthew Gene “Axe” Axelson: Navy Cross, Purple Heart – 24 years old (RIP) – [Note that one of Marcus’ kids is named Axe, after Matt Axelson. That should tell you something]
  • Southern Boy = Marcus Luttrell: Navy Cross, Purple Heart – Lone Survivor
  • Yankee = Michael Patrick “Murph” Murphy: Medal of Honor, Purple Heart, Silver Star – 24 years old (RIP)

It’s not just that the dog murderers shot DASY. No, no. They also beat DASY’s brains out with a baseball bat. Stats are that anyone who can randomly do that to a dog is also doing that human beings, usually a defenseless partner, usually children, only those who are much weaker than they are, you know, because, as always, guys like these are total cowards. They hit DASY in the middle of the night. In the 911 call played out above we find out that they have also called 911 on themselves so as to be saved from the guy whose dog they murdered. Meanwhile, Marcus, gentleman that he is, had already called 911 so that Law Enforcement and the American justice system would be put into action properly. As Marcus says of himself, he’s no murderer, but rather someone who supports Law Enforcement and the American justice system. That’s why he served in the Military. Yes.

Meanwhile, John Wick’s dog, called Daisy, is an obvious reference to Marcus Luttrell’s DASY, as there are another dozen parallels as to how this film series is all about an alternative ending to the dog-murdering, surely to point out how, instead, Marcus is above the fray of mere vengeance. And that makes Marcus a hero to me, that is, not someone to render hero-worship (that being a sickness), but rather someone whose example I try to follow in my own life.

Meanwhile, my own Shadow-dog and Laudie-dog were both poisoned the other week. They survived, but only because, as I found out later, the perp was interrupted by my good neighbor just before I got home. Continuing to inquire about what the poison could have been, the substance has been narrowed down to that which has a lot more lethality to it than what I originally thought it might be. In this case, as far as the dogs’ owner goes, myself, I’m guessing that the perp knows well that I myself am a relatively easy target, so very much unlike our run of the mill citizen of Texas, the great Marcus Luttrell, and the later fictional John Wick. That I was considered to be an easy target was the opinion of an Army sniper here in town, the one who now owns Jenny the Jeep. We all know how lethal a Navy SEAL can be, but what about John Wick? Take a look at this short analysis of the skills of John Wick and his director at just a 1/4 speed (stunning attention to detail):

Anyway, yours truly, obviously a “weak target”, who’s never pulled a trigger on anyone for any reason, is given over to being at the ready to defend those who are successfully being unjustly aggressed in a deadly manner right in front of me, say, during a mass shooting in my church, but that defense is not comprehensive of Shadow-dog nor Laudie-dog. Sorry for you who are just as much dog-lovers as me. They have many times put themselves on the line for me, but still… Mind you, murdering my dogs right in front of me is going to raise some intensified situational awareness by way of the all focusing adrenaline. I’ll be 360゚at the ready to send off – if need be in unrepeatable circumstances – two to the spinal column and one to the brain box into any number of targets, you know, if I’m fired upon and am actively being hit, set on fire with my lungs being singed, stabbed repeatedly to bleed-out parts of the body, you know the drill. I have done up a bit of scenario drills. The aim, so to speak, would be merely to neutralize not any aggressor(s), but any ultra deadly threat actively being delivered by any aggressor(s). You take out such a threat, not necessarily any aggressor(s) bearing any such threat. Just to be clear. The relatively speaking freakoid record for yours truly which I’ll never repeat again (no target ammo in these USA to keep up the skills…) from a locked holster at a randomly set Competition Electronics’ Pocket Pro II shot timer is – for the two plus one drill – 1.01 seconds. Slow for those mentioned above, of course. And now I’m much, much slower than that.

My neighbors and I have noted how the local cowardly thugs and buffoons carry bowie knives, machetes, baseball bats, lead pipes, heavy chains, pistols, shotguns, (sniper) rifles. Whatever. They look tough, well, laughably, but all that “toughness” only means that they are cowards, always in packs, always almost incapable of even standing up without falling over. The local thugs and buffoons have expressed disdain for dogs to me and have three times stated that they will kill the neighbor’s sweet dog by coming back with a baseball bat to beat that that puppy’s brains out (witnessed). Yep. But, I know, the last thing a thug and buffoon will carry with them is any violence or threats of violence they have ever done or made. Thier own evil is not on their own radar. So, no real ongoing threat. Not in the least.

Having said that, I should add that Laudie-dog was shot in the neck with a pellet gun just under her left ear the other year, and that wound is still festering enough for Shadow-dog to tenderly offer some dog-medic treatment for quite a few minutes even now, with Laudie-dog very appreciative with all that tender care:

The Vet didn’t want to do anything with that ongoing wound just yet. Meanwhile, as I have sometimes said, Shadow-dog is himself well aware of the hurt coming from pellet guns, having been the victim already four times. We’re all happy that, as a wolf-dog, he has fully three coats of fur, all the more thick and heavy around the neck. A bit more worrisome, however, is that his doghouse – next to the house – was hit by a 9mm bullet. I changed out the doghouse so as to confuse the idiot perps a bit. Confusing idiot perps is easy, unless they are not on drugs, unless they are determined just to be evil outside of any evil wrought merely for political correctness with thug peers. Some of the druggies are not druggies at all, but deal only with money and suppliers, keeping track of suppliers, enforcing debt collection. They are likely to be just a bit more dangerous, though I doubt that even they know how to work any safeties on guns, or how to load up a magazine and lock it in, or even whether or not there are any bullets in whatever gun. However, if you yourself get shot in a totally unprovoked attack, you can judge in that very nanosecond that a deadly threat is presently being delivered and if this is in turn judged not to be an accidental discharge but someone continuing to fire at you, the self-defense you render over against such an unprovoked attack is not only justified, but is certainly a contribution to the exercise of the virtue of justice.

The 911 call at the top of this post is after the initial nanosecond of the actual murder of DASY, and Marcus himself was not shot at or attacked with any baseball bat: the perps, the cowards, ran away. The way Marcus brought DASY’s attackers to justice honors those after whom DASY had been named.

May Danny, Axe and Yankee rest in peace. Amen.

And thanks, Marcus, for setting a standard to strive after.

BTW, the comments section after that YouTube 911 call are some of the best on the internet, not because of the hilarious ones (there are a lot) but because the occasional one which is in obvious solidarity with Marcus in a way that could only be done by someone who likewise has suffered for all that is good, who has likewise seen his close friends taken out in front of him. Quite sobering, really. And we need that in these crazy anti-American times we now live in here in these United States of America.

And, yes, it is in God that we trust. Always. Everywhere. In every situation. Amen.

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Never happier dogs: State Department heroine thanks! Post-poisoning report.

Shadow-dog is not barfing up that rope-toy. Pictures are tricky that way. Both Shadow-dog and Laudie-dog are in great health once again, and are celebrating with super special treats from dearest Charlene.

Shadow-dog was eager and happy to have a taste of these, but sweetest Laudie-dog was over the moon, dancing, happy, bright eyed, smiling. I think Laudie-dog will get the lion’s share, as it were, because, you know, she’s a Rhodesian Ridge Back Lion Dog.

If you can spot the note on top of the treats in the picture farther above, it is only Shadow-dog and Laudie-dog who get a Happy Thanksgiving. Yours truly is, however, tacked on to the thanksgiving to God, after Shadow-dog and Laudie-dog!

Dearest Charlene, we also thank God for you and the service you’ve done right around the world at the Department of State and now for many years for Father Gordon and so many others. Blessings upon you. God reward you.

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Laudie-dog & Shadow-dog poisoned but now healthy: situation awareness lesson

That’s Laudie-dog above, the sweetest dog in the world. She’s good now. But who would poison her?

And that’s Shadow-dog below, the most playful dog in the world. He’s good now. But who would poison him?

Early Wednesday, just after midnight, I arrived back home after the epic Day Off, relieved in seeing Shadow-dog and Laudie-dog peek through the chain-link fence gate to ascertain it was me. But then they disappeared again to check out I didn’t know what at the other side of the house. That’s never happened. But then they came back to greet me once again as I got to the gate. Whatever had been happening at the other side of the house was now ended. But something was wrong, terribly wrong.

They were totally in malaise, no energy, no dancing around, no fake-fighting with each other to get the first pats on the head, no eagerness, like dead dogs still alive but hardly able to walk without falling over.

Shadow-dog stays out 24/7/365 now that he’s somewhat outgrown his all-night commentary on the druggies and assaulters and rapists and murderers in the neighborhood. He got his supper-dish filled with his evening meal, late, but better late than never. Except this time. He wouldn’t touch it. He was vacuous. A shell of a dog. Empty eyes. Receding into the background. Not this:

Laudie-dog was able to make it up the few steps to come inside but I thought she was going to drop dead right then and there. I put her supper dish down with the usual evening ration. She’s always eager to eat and eager to never stop eating. But Laudie-dog wouldn’t eat. Every movement was painfully slow. She slowly sat down, and then ever so slowly tried to turn her head sideways to stare at her stomach. I’ve never seen that before. Then she took a few steps, sat down, and stared ever so dully at the wall. Vacuous. Nothing there. A shell of a dog. Receding into the background.

Next morning Laudie-dog still hadn’t eaten anything. Shadow-dog did eat sometime during the night, but, like Laudie-dog, was still in total malaise. Later in the morning, Laudie-dog would also eat, choosing just this bit, then that, ever so very slowly, one chew, then opening her jaw with effort, as if in great sadness, then another chew. Excruciating.

Before rushing down to Georgia’s National Cemetery for a military burial, the neighbor filled in some of the details about the previous evening while I was away. It’s said that Shadow-dog was barking, really a lot, fiercely, for hours. The neighbors finally came out to investigate and noticed that the two dogs were on the far side of the house looking up toward the street, barking ferociously. But that’s just when I arrived home. I didn’t see the good neighbors and I didn’t see who had been bothering the dogs. I’m happy with avoiding trouble that could escalate into what nobody wants.

I’m thinking that someone noticed I wasn’t home, and was trying to figure out how to do a home invasion, then went away and came back to give some tasty bits of food to the dogs to eat, but with poison, to knock them out in order to do a home invasion. I’m guessing Laudie-dog ate everything she could while Shadow-dog investigated the first one or two offerings, but let Laudie-dog finish the rest. She got a lot sicker than he did. He was altogether occupied with keeping yet another home-invader, dog poisoner at bay. He did do that. But as soon as the danger was gone, just when I arrived back home, their adrenaline dump now left them and the effects of the poison came to the fore.

In other words, they gave their all to protect the home-front, risking death to do so. Goooooood daaaaawwwgs.

Meanwhile, as I write this, late Thursday, early Friday, I’ve never seen the drug house out back so very, very busy. By Thursday both dogs were back to normal, super-energetic, super-eager, with super-appetites. Great. But. What was it. Sounds like a date-rape drug that guy had at home, and he decided to use it on the dogs.

The other year, at an Advent meal up at Fire House, I was bragging on Shadow-dog, about how good he is at keeping home invaders away. The guy just blankly asked why I thought that. I described Shadow-dog’s anomalously massive size and ferocity over against those judged to be malicious (for instance, those who shoot at him and Laudie-dog here in town), but the guy didn’t accept that as anything to judge their worth. I should have known not to ask why not, as surely this guy was speaking from experience and the topic had to hurt (I’m so stupid):

  • “Any experienced home-invader is going to open the gate to get to your back door, shoot the dog without breaking pace (with a suppressor I’m guessing), quickly break apart the door(frame), and proceed firstly to make sure there are no further threats before taking whatever it is that he wants.”

“I see,” said I, taken aback at his sad tone that told a story.

Mind you, I’ve had trouble getting Shadow-dog to eat before, but not because of malaise for having been poisoned. I only figured out recently just how much he considers me to be part of the security team, just how much he is depending on me, that is, as much as I depend on him.

I stupidly put his supper dish next to the house (as people do), so that he faces the house in order to eat. That’s bad for situational awareness. I should have known. He didn’t feel safe to eat if I was standing next to him, but also facing the house with him. He would spend minutes circling out back of me to bait me to turn and do surveillance for him much the way I’ve so many times seen a buck keep watch while the does put their heads deep into the grass. Having finally figured out what he was doing, all I have to do is put his supper dish down and face away, busy trying to spot those Shadow-dog senses to be malicious.

But this didn’t work the other night. The second the danger was over, both he and Laudie-dog, making sure I was safe, then just collapsed.

But they are good now. It’s all good. Thanks be to God.

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Shadow-dog vs robbers in most lawless druggie town

Shadow-dog: Taller than the highest on height descriptions of any GSD. Five overflowing cups of dog-food in the morning. Five more overflowing cups of dog-food in the evening. He’s very loyal. A really good friend. I’ve seen him angry. He barks at the druggies and the home-invaders. He’s been shot four times with hunting pellets of a pellet gun, and shot at by a 9mm (which hit his doghouse). Shadow-dog is in great health and at the very top of his game. Good daaawg!!!

Meanwhile, I’m getting home-invasion attempts frequently, sometimes multiple times a week. The other night a guy jumped the chain link fence out back. I heard him, as my bedroom window was open. Shadow-dog immediately made a comment, a very deep full-throated double woof-WOOF!!! Shadow-dog bolted from his doghouse to the back yard. As he was doing that at about the speed of light, the home-invader guy said, “Oh, S#|+!!!” and then jumped the fence again. Ha ha!

Last night I heard a skateboarder stop out front. Shadow-dog made some comments, but didn’t see him out front. Instead, this time, a neighbor who keeps close watch saw the guy bathed in my super-bright LED flood-lights examining the house closely, within inches of the house. Seeing that he was seen by the neighbor, the invader guy disappeared down the creek to the side of the rectory toward the drug house, into the dark. Of course he did.

That this guy couldn’t have cared less about the ultra-super-bright-lights is actually a big deal. This means either that he’s drugged out of his mind (which means he’s extra-dangerous) or that he’s done this and gotten away with it so many times that he absolutely doesn’t care about being seen (which means he’s super extra-dangerous).

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Shadow-dog and Laudie-dog: traumatized protectors, but happy

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Laudie-dog is her happy self. She guards the door when I’m gone, then insists, as a reward, that she come inside when I arrive back home. Happy, happy, happy! She gets pampered in every way.

She’s been traumatized by her previous owner who, it seems, shot her between the shoulder blades with bird shot when dumping her on the hermitage road to get rid of her. She’s been even more traumatized right through her younger years consequent to her maternal protection of yours truly over against bears and panthers and wolves and all that which also goes bump in the night, dark and stormy nights with dreaded thunder, which sets her to shaking. She still has nightmares.

Someone, playing dog-psychologist, said that the nightmares are all my fault, inasmuch as they continue, in that surely I don’t pamper her enough! Instead, she well knows that she is the princess. As far as I know in speaking with some of our special operators, for human beings anyway, PTSD doesn’t go away, even though in waking moments one might learn how to deal with it. I’m guessing it’s the same for dogs. Laudie-dog also knows she has help with the protection thing, that it’s not on her anymore. Enter Shadow-dog:

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And, yes, he’s had a number of baths and some brushing events a few times since this picture was taken. And his collar got a good scrubbing, and his new rabies shot tag was added to the collar. He’s a strictly outside dog now. He guards the door while I’m gone along with Laudie-dog, but also patrols the fence-line. Although he’s been shot a good four times with a pellet gun, and his dog house was shot with a 9mm bullet, that’s only made him more confident in his abilities to face anything. If Laudie-dog is the princess, Shadow-dog is simply the king. I’m the “alpha” only until there’s trouble, and then he unceremoniously literally knocks me out of the way so that I’m fully behind him. Amazing. I’m grateful to have him.

Did I mention that he can put his jaws entirely around the entire head of Laudie-dog? All in play, mind you. That’s not at all scary to Laudie-dog. Instead, it’s the other way around. She knows that Shadow-dog can fully take care of any situation which comes up. She can relax. Not that she does. Fairly recently I’ve seen her raise her Rhodesian Lion-Dog Ridgeback four-inch wide, shoulders to tail ridge, which stood straight up. I’ve only seen that just the one time when a pit-bull was threatening. She won, actually scaring the pit-bull. :-)

Laudie-dog comes in at 45 pounds. Shadow-dog comes in more than twice that, at 95 pounds. He could easily be 120 pounds or more and still be trim, but the Vet said to keep him a bit on the thinner side, as a dog his size is much happier when light on his feet, and it also helps perhaps to delay any hip dysplasia later in life.

Both dogs are rescues, but not really.

  • Laudie-dog adopted me. I think my guardian angel directed her my way going on ten years ago. We’ve been great friends since.
  • Shadow-dog was arranged for me by friends in the police and firefighters. He was just a pup and needed a home. They brought me over to pick him up at the house of someone who couldn’t take care of him. The school cafeteria couldn’t keep feeding him, liability and all that.

“The LORD God formed out of the ground various wild animals and various birds of the air, and he brought them to the man to see what he would call them; whatever the man called each of them would be its name. The man gave names to all the cattle, all the birds of the air, and all the wild animals.” (Genesis 2:19-20)

Both Laudie-dog and Shadow-dog have the same nick-name: GOOOOD DAAAWG!

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“Pablo Escobar” communicates “non-” threats to Fr George (as Dr Dolittle)

Some background to the Doctor Dolittle thing:

Recall that, in my immediate neighborhood, Cooper the Therapy Pony has been shot with a pellet gun many times; Laudie-dog was shot in the neck with a pellet gun; Franky-dog was shot with a hunting-pellet gun, with that round being inoperable, still in his shoulder as seen in the x-ray; Shadow-dog has been shot with a pellet gun I think four times, while Shadow-dog’s dog-house was shot by a 9mm bullet; Macie-dog has gotten death threats from thugs and buffoons on this same street, twice, the last time being just the other night: the thugs and buffoons were saying how they were going to get a rock and mash her brains out of her skull.

Statistically, those who abuse and torture and outright kill animals do the same to human beings, you know, smacking down their “partners”, throwing any kids through dry-wall and windows, doing home invasions, beheadings, burnings… The usual. It’s all here. Doing the Doctor Dolittle thing is a way to discover who’s who in violence and death and arson and rape, and so on… against people.

Note that all of my neighbors without exception have suffered property invasions and thefts and immediate threats of death (including, at the time, a three year old girl). But the rectory here hasn’t suffered any property or home invasions or thefts, yet, anyway. That’s because Shadow-dog, unlike any other dog, is to be most-feared by those who are malicious. Animals know where everyone is on the malicious-benevolent scale. The thugs and buffoons hate Shadow-dog most especially.

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Shadow-dog doesn’t bark at good people, but goes off on a rant of politically incorrect commentary – so very loud – over against those who are entirely malicious, with all of their chains and knives and machetes and tape-handled lead pipes and guns and Avtomat Kalashnikova 47s, and 700 series Remington sniper rifles. Shadow-dog keeps the thugs and buffoons at bay, so far, anyway. He’s a happy, happy dog.

Incident with “Pablo Escobar” communicating “non-” threats to yours truly, as Doctor Dolittle.

Yesterday, on my way home, I was literally a stone’s throw away from the vast array of Doctor Dolittle-esque animals in my own immediate neighborhood, like Shadow-dog and Laudie-dog, like the Town Branch Snapper-turtle and the three-legged Tiger-cat, like Cooper the Therapy-Pony and Pyro-dog, Franky-dog and Macie-dog, from vultures and hawks to finches and humming birds… a Doctor Dolittle-esque paradise.

While just a short distance from pulling into my own driveway, a guy in a notorious […] house, standing in the doorway of his front porch, yelled at me as I nicely drive by on the public street of my own otherwise quiet neighborhood. I didn’t hear what he had communicated, so, not wanting to be impolite to any of my nice neighbors, I continued up to the T-intersection, turned around, returning to the shrieker-guy.

Pablo Escobar reincarnate

I wasn’t taking pictures of any licence plates, just driving by minding my own business. But when I turned around, I had the presence of mind to turn on the dash cam.

the real Pablo Escobar

Pablo Escobar, the world’s most notorious cartel boss (perhaps after “El Chapo”) in a 1976 mugshot. Born 1 December 1949; died 2 December 1993, 44 years old. He took a bullet to the head.

In the subsequent conversation the shrieker-guy will call himself “Pablo Escobar.” I’m guessing the real Pablo Escobar is the shrieker-guy’s hero that he wants to emulate. Here’s the conversation:

  • Father George: “You were saying something to me.”
  • “Pablo Escobar”: [garbled]
  • Father George: “Sorry…?”
  • “Pablo Escobar”: “Why you all out taking pictures?”
  • Father George: “I wasn’t.”
  • “Pablo Escobar”: “Yes, you have. You’re not the police.”
  • Father George: “I can do that on public property.”
  • “Pablo Escobar”: “This is private property.”
  • Father George: “This is a public street.”
  • “Pablo Escobar: “But you don’t live on this street. You need to get off it. O.K.?”
  • Father George: “Or else…?”
  • “Pablo Escobar”: “Or else, what… ’cause I’m gonna give you a break like none other. I’m gonna give you an option: IF ! I know the law too, buddy, so just fuck off. Have a nice day.”
  • Father George: “Where are you from?”
  • “Pablo Escobar”: “It doesn’t matter where I’m from.”
  • Father George: “What’s your name.”
  • “Pablo Escobar”: “Oh, yeah! My name is, uh, Pablo Escobar. What’s yours? Doctor Dolittle? For real, man, get off this property. Thank you, and have a nice day.”

So, as I say, that’s “Pablo Escobar” communicating a “non-” threat. It’s a conditional: “If…” So, whatever. Nothing you can do about any conditional “If…” It’s nothing. No big deal. It’s like saying, “If you take another breath, I will make sure that you don’t do it ever again, so it’s up to you if you want to take another breath. The consequences if you do are on you.” Or how about this: “If you drive to your driveway from this street, I will make sure that you don’t do it ever again. So if you ever drive on that street a stone’s throw away from your own house over to your own driveway, the consequences to make sure you never do so again are on you.”

To that I say: “Pfft…” This means nothing. Empty blather. Bullies are always cowards. And for all his tough talk, with him seeing that I was ever so calm and friendly and just asking where he’s from and what his name is, I could see that he was having doubts about his bravado. Two young women showed up behind him. He had to show off. Again: Pfft…

I just don’t like being ordered off the street of my own immediate neighborhood. He’s got a good idea though. Pictures of licence plates! The Sheriff told me the other day that he has never even once seen a picture of a licence plate which belonged to the actual car it was on if that picture was taken of a vehicle at a […] house. You know the drill. The licence plate hangs awkwardly off the bumper with one screw as it’s so often transferred to other vehicles. It can often be that the vehicles are stolen, or the tags are out of date, or there’s no insurance, or the driver is suspended, or the driver has multiple felony warrants and is on the lam…

Anyway, I slowly, quietly, ever so politely drove over to my own driveway, but that’s when the real trouble started up. Stay tuned. Never a dull moment in this neighborhood. And the two incidents might well be connected.

And, by the way, just to say, I live in an otherwise wonderful neighborhood. I love it here and being in the mountains. The paradise aspect of the garden God planted back in Genesis is so very evident. It’s really too bad and sad that there are some who have no appreciation of the paradise aspect of the garden that God planted. Too bad. Too sad.

I’m sorry, but I have to categorize this under “humor” since this guy was just so unsure of himself, really lame in his brashness. I mean, it is too bad and too sad, but I can’t help laughing at the ineptness of it all. I am a little concerned about Shadow-dog and Macie-dog. I’m such a Doctor Dolittle that I wouldn’t want to see them harmed in any way. I have to wonder if the real Pablo Escobar tortured and killed animals…

By the way and just to say, my ecclesiastical superiors tell me that real Catholics don’t run away, and in this Diocese we’re not going to be run off; we’re not going to run away.

And to that I say, Amen.

 

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“Who Let the Dogs Out?” Shadow-dog baits anti-Catholic. State Dept to the rescue.

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Due to a Shadow-dog related incident this past Monday, mid-morning, this post is offered for the record, in case a very much one-sided confrontation is escalated.

who let the dogs out opening scene

So, as the police chaplain, I have to ask:

During the day the security situation is like this with innocent Shadow-dog:

When confronting a GSD like Shadow-dog, don’t be afraid, don’t be aggressive, don’t be suspicious, don’t be malicious, don’t be scolding, don’t be fake-nice (dogs see through all that passive-aggressive rubbish), just be yourself. This is how it should be when encountering people, right?

Meanwhile, Shadow-dog is ready to play, carrying his fetch-toy wherever he goes on his patrols of the fenceline, always game for gaming. He will ever so gently touch Laudie-dog on her shoulder with this fetch-toy. She will jack up the stakes, gaming his gaming, to his delight.

Shadow-dog likes the playfulness of Laudie-dog, but invites playfulness with the backyard neighbor’s old yet playful and big white dog (possibly some kind of quite shaggy Sheep-dog). The invitation – of course in the form of squeaky barking and hopping around on his own side of the fence – isn’t reciprocated, which is frustrating for Shadow-dog.

The situation for Shadow-dog isn’t much better with the next door neighbor’s therapy pony – not much bigger than Shadow-dog. Cooper, the therapy pony, will munch on the same blade of grass for minutes at a time, egging on the invitations of Shadow-dog to play. When Shadow-dog calms down, Cooper the therapy pony will slightly move a hoof, starting the barking invitations of Shadow-dog all over again.

But here’s the deal: all the neighbors find all this to be entirely humorous, laughing at how Shadow-dog is baited by other dogs and ponies. All are perfectly fine with Shadow-dog’s playfulness and voiced invitations to play. Not only are they not bothered, but they are grateful for his antics. They know that he is the reason for a lack of home invasions in our immediate section of the neighborhood. There are rough elements with equally rough crimes (such as murder and assault) which we are all happy to avoid.

On another level – apart from playfulness -Shadow-dog cannot be baited, but instead does the baiting. Anyone taking a fleeting glance at Shadow-dog knows that he could literally rip any human being to shreds should they prove to be malicious in ripping yours truly apart in front of him. He wouldn’t just let that go. Neither would relatively diminuative Laudie-dog for that matter. Shadow-dog could jump fence anytime with zero effort. But he doesn’t. GSDs are loyal to their human servants and their own well-defined territory of responsibility. Some few human beings are mean to him, even having shot at him, accurately, with a pellet gun a number of times. Laudie-dog was also shot, once with bird-shot of – I’m guessing – a 4.10, and once with a pellet gun. Neither of them retaliate. Laudie-dog is too sweet. Shadow-dog is also good to go, as long as he has his own domain under control, with no one who is entirely malicious to the death inside his environs.

During the night the security situation is like this with innocent Shadow-dog:

At night it’s more difficult to ascertain who human beings are, where they are, and what they are doing. Ask LEOs. They say that nothing good happens on the street after 10:00 PM. Nighttime brings out a whole other population of human beings, many of whom are, in fact, malicious. So many beheadings and murders and burnings of other human beings in the area and region demonstrate the objective malice. Shadow-dog knows this well enough.

Shadow-dog, as a GSD – a kind of wolf – has an upped sense of situational awareness. Far from paranoia, categorically diverse from paranoia – not even on the same spectrum – is situational awareness, which instead looks for solutions of deescalation in any given situation, of escape in any situation, or, if it cannot be avoided, how to fight in any situation, etc.

But Shadow-dog ups this by baiting out and downright provoking a reaction. This is not necessarily what human beings should do in direct encounters with possibly and especially probably malicious individuals. But dogs are spectacularly adept at providing running commentary on questionable circumstances so that they can all the more accurately report how contingencies are playing out. Dogs are front-line operatives.

Shadow-dog is now over three years old, and has mellowed out enough for me to have moved him outside the house 24/7/365. His commentary, wonderfully, is limited to possibly malicious human beings. So he barks rarely enough, even at night. But if it’s at night, I pay close attention.

There was a barking-baiting session at 1:30 AM the other night. I listened intently. I heard the cause, loudly: what had to be a maul-ax smashing of a door for a home invasion, or probably just smashing up branches for a druggie fire as it was a really cold night and they wanted to keep warm, which I’m certainly not going to begrudge them. And Shadow-dog should have barked. The maul-ax strikes were really quite violent. Goood daawwg Shadow-dog!!!

But someone in our little town didn’t like it one little bit…

… and came by the next morning to tell me what a terrible sorry excuse for a Catholic priest I am, letting Shadow-dog bark like that and everything. This person was so aggressive, charging me again and again, and not letting me get in a word of explanation in edgewise, that I just retreated, again, and again and again. This person kept charging, so I ran under that back patio and closed the gate. This person kept berating me so I said that I’m requesting leaving the property. And then many drive-bys by this person took place. One of neighbors came to warn me that this person had circled back to my house like four times in as many minutes. Yikes! I’m happy to have neighbors who are concerned for my welfare.

I disagree with poor Shadow-dog being used by this complainer-person as an excuse for anti-Catholic bigotry, you know, against all the damned Catholics and all their damned dogs.

Was it not at the time that Antony was predicting the result of Julius Caesar’s assassination that we hear this:

A curse shall light upon the limbs of men;
Domestic fury and fierce civil strife
Shall cumber all the parts of Italy.
Blood and Destruction shall be so in use
and dreadful objects so familiar
that mothers shall but smile when they behold
their infants quartered by the hands of war,
all pity choked by custom of fell deeds.
And Caesar’s spirit, ranging for revenge
With Ate by his side, come hot from hell
shall in these confines with a monarch’s voice
cry “Havoc!” and release the dogs of war
that this foul deed should smell above the earth
with carrion men, groaning for burial.

Ah, yes! Cry “Havoc!” and release the dogs of war.

I’m not going to release any dogs – and they won’t jump fence – but I’m not going to correct his behavior. He’s quiet all night, every night, unless there is something violent going on. And then, as a town manager said to me, mentioning someone complaining about Shadow-dog, not letting me defend Shadow-dog, but instead himself interrupting me to defend Shadow-dog, asking me whether or not Shadow-dog cuts down on home invasions for all my neighbors. Yes, of course, and they all say it, all appreciative of Shadow-dogs efforts to put himself in danger on the front lines and protect us all. All my neighbors appreciate Shadow-dog’s efforts. All of them. — Of course, he said. And that was that.

Getting the State Department involved:

Meanwhile, in recounting this story to a fellow priest, it was suggested to me to make a comment about my best friend in the State Department (retired) being somewhat delinquent in sending treats for both Shadow-dog and, of course, Laudie-dog, whom she wants to adopt. She’s only said that a million times. But, the problem is, Laudie-dog adopted me. And she softens some of the sharper edges of Shadow-dog. ;-) But actually, dearest Charlene always keeps both Shadow-dog and Laudie-dog in good standing with treats of all kinds. They are “rurnt” as they say these parts, “ruined” or spoiled, totally in expectation of treats all the time for any or no reason. Being falsely accused of grave crimes and misdemeanors – such as doing the service of alerting to violent actions – is more than enough reason to load down both Shadow-dog and Laudie-dog with treats. I’ll do that right now. I think dearest Charlene will agree with that pampering of her furry friends.

Dearest Charlene has a blog called the Prodigal Catholic Writer, and she’s written a post about what she says is “definitely the most embarrassing evening of my life,” quite funny about one of her State Department experiences in Tanzania. If you want some good humor in your life – and I recommend this to the complainer described above – here’s dearest Charlene:

http://prodigalcatholicwriter.blogspot.com/

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Coronavirus sheltering-in-place: Exemplar Shadow-dog and Laudie-dog

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Dunno if you can see it, but Laudie-dog, as usual, has a smile on her face. Always content. Doing what she was created to do by God our loving Heavenly Father. Is she oblivious to the Coronavirus pandemic and panic? Sure. So she’s happy. But we who do know what’s going down should be as serene and incomparably much more joyful inasmuch as our Lord intends to bring us to heaven forever. By the way, you see that she looking to me, not to my visitor to my left. She’s already figured out that guy.

Meanwhile, Shadow-dog always has his guard up. Yes, he does smile, but with watchful eyes on that visitor, a law enforcement officer to the rectory driveway. He doesn’t care about any law enforcement credentials. He’s going to protect me regardless. Shadow already knows the officer and is friendly with him. Nevertheless, the guard is up. And so should our guard be up with the Coronavirus.

But having your guard up doesn’t cancel out the hope that what we’re all created to have as we walk humbly with our God, in thanksgiving, with joy that God intends us to be taken out of this world and have us in heaven forever. Hope is essential for life. Hope carries with it a joy that opens unto life eternal.

So why did such a good God create such a dangerous world?

  • Let’s not forget what original sin was our choice, crushing our integrity and honesty so that instead of absolutely dominating the universe, including viruses[!], helping each other, we instead, selfish idiots, don’t cooperate, become secretive, and even inflict such viruses on each other.
  • Let’s not forget that God didn’t forget about us and the consequences of our own bad and evil choices. He stood in our place, the innocent for guilty, and took on the death we deserve because of original sin and whatever rubbish of our own sin so that He might have the right in His own justice to have mercy on us, truly offering us mercy based on this justice, so that He – the Author of Life – might bring us to life once again, this time united with Him, this time in life eternal.

So, I’m as happy as a Laudie-dog, and so very enthusiastic that I can continue to be on guard against, say, the Coronavirus, and not be all depressed and despairing, but rather, in His grace, retain the hope that leads to heaven.

We see lots of bashing of those who BOTH faithful and reasonable and prudent and who are of service. If those self-righteous bashers who bash entire categories of people would spend even half that energy on doing something to be part of the solution, we would have a much better world as regards both physical and spiritual health.

  • Let’s pray for each other.
  • Let’s help each other.
  • Let’s be joyful.
  • Let’s be of service in whatever way we can.
  • Let’s be an occasion for others to get hold of that hope which our dear Lord holds out to all of us with great solicitude for our eternal welfare.

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Update: Shadow-dog & Laudie-dog

Out of the blue my favorite State Department Diplomat (now retired) has sent in some doggie-treats for both Shadow-dog and Laudie-dog.

As you can see, Shadow-dog is doing his happy-dance in the freshly fallen snow. Laudie-dog doesn’t much care for the snow, but retains her most photogenic happy-smile:

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But don’t be fooled. Both are fiercely protective of yours truly. The happy-dance of Shadow-dog is actually a battle drill, seeing if he can be as aggressive in the slippery snow as he is on dry packed soil:

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Yes, I should think so. Those paws are about as big as Laudie-dogs whole face. Good thing they are friends.

Thanks, Charlene.

Meanwhile, I apologize for having disappeared for some time. Sooooo busy doing the priest thing. I love it. There are many emails and comments I have to get to. Sorry if it seems I’ve not been getting to these. No intention to snub anyone. If I were to give a rundown of my day yesterday, absolutely running from 3:00 AM to 7:00 PM it might be more understandable.

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Dogs is better’n cats: Change my mind. Most playful attack dogs in the world.

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Yes, Shadow-dog does get hosed off. He likes that as much as getting muddy. He likes to bait Laudie-dog into playing, and she shows him who’s really boss, boxing his ears with both front paws at the same time, though not baring her ferocious fangs for a second. They really are best friends. She’s just cleaner, and wants to stay that way.

In an effort to change out mud holes, I restricted Shadow dog to being closer in to the house, as there is still an old fence to use. But his hopping from side to side in front of that fence when making his usual commentary on passing events has made for some embankments. As I kid, when I did that for downhill skiing up in the North Woods: moguls. I got good at it, enough to get little impromptu audiences. But maybe they were just waiting for the crazy-insane-kid to be out of the way.

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It’s hard to tell from the picture, but the turning mogul on the right is dug down and built up from the hopping turns so that from bottom to top is about 1 1/2 feet high. That only took one day of unintentional mogul building. I’m impressed. Shadow gets his exercise all day every day.

The anomalous all-black GSDs have a slightly different genetic structure, closer, I would guess, to wolfdom. They have what some call a straight back instead of the back sloping down from shoulders to tail. But Shadow-dog’s back actually is higher. The speed factor is amazing.

He can go from the not-lying-down-but-actually-crouching-attack-position – closely eyeing a potential enemy who needs to be vetted out – to full speed racing as a test-attack to see the reaction of the would-be enemy, the ol’ going straight from zero to a hundred thing in bare nanoseconds. I like that. A lot. Even if the enemy is a squirrel, a cat, the neighbor’s therapy pony or the next-door neighbor’s dog. Sometimes, though, it’s a possibly nefarious human who instantly understands the instruction not to come over the fence to do up a home invasion. To see the speed, I only need to open the side gate to let him go in the bigger back yard.

Laudie-dog is much calmer. But she knows that she doesn’t need to prove herself to me. She’s already saved me so very many times from monsters: bears and lynx and coyotes and snakes and red wolves and now grey wolves, and even a panther. That last one was a fright.

  • Dogs are the best. Cats are… cats…
  • Dogs are man’s best friend. Cats are… cats…
  • Dogs protect you and yours. Cats… watch the worst go down…
  • Dogs are eager to learn. Cats think they know it all…
  • Dogs watch birds. Cat’s eat the birds for whom you put out bird-seed…

I mean, if you can add to the list, or defend cats (which I would be interested in seeing), drop a comment. Let me put it this way, although dogs and cats are equally God’s good creatures, my fallen human nature says:

Dogs are better than cats. Change my mind.

There were both dogs and cats around the house when I was a kid. I have dogs now, but no cats. Am I therefore wrong to even voice an opinion? Do I need to get a cat to be able to legitimately express my inner creation commentary?

If I were to get a cat, it would have to be black (to match priest-clothes), have short hair, not shed, be content with dry cat food, not scratch-attack, purr really really really a lot, and loudly, get along with both Shadow-dog and Laudie-dog without scratching their eyes out, and otherwise not be “catty”… or is that something cats absolutely have to be?

Finally, I know, I know: there are anomalies…

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Shadow-dog play & Laudie-dog calm

Shadow-dog, if taunted and aggressed upon by a home invader who was beating me to death could, I imagine, tear any beast, animal or human, right in half, quite literally, within seconds. That’s a quite limited circumstance. He’s been shot by pellet guns a number of times, but he’s never jumped the fence, never taken revenge. Goooood daaaaawg! He’s totally socialized, having grown up for his first year and a half eating at the high school cafeteria. I’ve never seen him not be friendly with visitors to the rectory, who, mind you, stay dutifully behind the gate. Smart, that.

Shadow-dog might look ferocious in the two second video above, but this is simply an inviting squeak-bark to play offered to the back-fence neighbor’s dog, who has learned to look bored and not deign to respond (though in this video you can hear that other dog in the background offering his own weak-bark commentary, not having mastered the squeak-bark).

This exchange could also be characterized as baiting, by either dog, challenging when you know that actual consequence will come about. One of the parishioners once brought Blue-dog (a Weimaraner). We tried to socialize them with the fence between them and they both realized that they were beloved dogs to their owners, and that their owners were there. Then we put them in the yard together. Soooo, that didn’t work at all. They are both alpha dogs. They are both extremely protective and neither is willing to share anything, least of all space on the earth, unless of course, with, say, Laudie-dog, who is about a third the size of them and given over entirely to deescalation.

But even Laudie-dog, if pushed, can be equally ferocious. Maternal protectiveness even for the likes of this human being kicks in like male aggressiveness never could. She’s proven it, having actively saved me from snakes and lynx and coyotes and red wolves and a grey wolf and bears galore and even – extremely traumatically – from a panther. All that was in the hermitage. She can discern who’s bad and evil among human beings, having gone into protective mode (though without attack, just warning) twice, among the hundreds of human beings she’s met. I didn’t see it the bad and evil aspects of those involved, but she sensed it. I wouldn’t put it past the two she did this with that they likely killed a dog just before coming over. She knew. Goooood daaaawg! Actually, the neighbor to the hermitage confirmed that he wouldn’t have put such malicious violence past them. Mostly, Laudie-dog is calm, content, happy, always a smile, even if, sometimes, woken up and drowsy, just for a picture:

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