“If you wish the world to become loving and compassionate, become loving and compassionate yourself. If you wish to diminish fear in the world, diminish your own. These are the gifts that you can give.”-Gary Zukav
I had a dream and in it I saw a tall stool. It had a green and black shawl neatly folded on the seat, and on top of that was a crown. As I walked over ready to sit down. I heard a voice that said, “stop.”
“Why?” I asked.
And the voice said, “you may sit after you’ve giving first.”
“Given what?” I asked.”
“Anything and everything just make sure it comes from the heart. Then each time you give sit upon the high stool that you may see the difference your efforts have made. Wrap the shawl around you that you may feel in the comfort you’ve given others, and wear the crown of glory that represents the gift of your efforts.”
Once again I say if we want to see the change, we have to be the change first. That is the one thing we know we can do something about, ourselves. It’s all about the boomerang effect. What we put out there comes back to us. Give and you shall receive…that is the gift.
Holding on to those grace filled moments, that’s where I find the miracles, and I get so lost in the moment that it seems to last a lifetime.
Bacon! Bacon! Bacon!
It was early morning when my Tom awoke. He let me out, and feed my growling stomach. One moment I saw the food, and the next it was gone. As my morning ritual continues to play out Tom picks me up, and puts me in bed with my Connie who was still sleeping. I jump around her give her a tiny lick on the lips and snuggle up against her. No sooner did I fall asleep when my head popped up. The door was shut in the bedroom, but that didn’t keep the aroma of the bacon from slipping through every slit and slate in the door it could find. Even my Connie began to stir, but not enough for me. I wanted down, but it was still dark as the sun was only beginning to rise. I couldn’t see well enough to jump down. So I walked back and forth up one side of Connie and around to the other side touching her check with my wet nose each time. “Lay down Ollie,” “it’s too early to get up.”
So I sit staring at the door imagining the bacon sizzling on the stove splattering at the feet of my Tom, a piece dropping on the floor. My mouth begins to drool as I lick my chops. I can’t bare it anymore the desire, the lure of the bacon had a hold of me calling me…come, come this way. I jumped as if diving into a big black obsesses without thought, and landed on all four paws, like a cat. My Connie got up knowing I wouldn’t let her alone if she didn’t open the door. It was then that my transformer powers turned me into a Dogmomatic vacuum. On full speed I headed for the kitchen. Already in vacuum mood with my head down, sniffer in position, my tongue went to work slopped up everything in sight.
“Dam dog!” My Tom yells as he trips over me. “Out!”
I go out one way and come back in the other with determination to cover every inch of the kitchen floor. My Tom and I will play this dance… “Dam dog!…Out! Game,” until my mission has been accomplished.
I dedicate my wonderful Sunday morning experience to my Uncle John who has taught me, even from a long distance, the Magic of bacon. Thanks for the doggy bacon jerky uncle John, its truly transformed my life.
I can smell when other people are sick, but I can’t tell them what’s wrong. We dogs have certain smells too that are indicators that something is wrong with us. We can’t tell you that we have a rotten tooth, kidney disease or liver problems, but our breath and actions speak for us if you’re paying attention.
My Connie’s always saying how bad my breath is. She has tried to brush my teeth, but I’m sorry, I don’t like it, so I won’t let her. She sometimes buys me treats that are suppose to help clean them, but instead of gnawing on them the way I’m supposed to, I practically swallow them whole, they taste so good. She’s been putting off taking me to the vet for a teeth cleaning because she knows how much I hate going to the vet. I think too that she’s afraid to find out that there might be something wrong with me. It’s called denial.
I guess just like aging human’s, us old dogs have to go into the body shop once in a while for an overhaul too. I suppose I should look at my Connie as an example, if she can do it I guess I can as well. It helps having your favorite person by your side to comfort you. Plus The vet speaks dog language, and can interpret for you, what we dogs can’t say in words.
I think I’ll take a nap now. When I awake the entire thought and worry will be gone as if it never took place. Hot diggity dog, I’m glad God made me a dog.