Citizen's Arrest!

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My name is Yankee and I would like to file a report with somebody. This is a disgrace, and being only 8 pounds and very short, there's not a lot I can do about it.

That inelegant ca-nine my family brought home a couple years ago has done it again. She's nothing but a Big Red Troublemaker. I keep hoping she will finally leave, but no...she's still here, thinking we can be friends. Ha!

My people certainly overlook a lot where she's concerned and I find it offensive. Just look at her....playing innocent. Gets to them every time.


Now consider me for a moment. Perfect in every way, beautiful beyond comprehension, and doing a fine job running this household if I do say so myself. Do I run off when they're not looking? Of course not! Never!

Besides the fact that there are despicable street dogs who live down the road, I would never think to set one dainty paw outside the yard. Because as I told you, I always do the right thing. At least, right to me. 

I'm fairly obedient when they ask me to do something I want to do, I share my food dish with the red beast when I have to, and I never do anything wrong, but do they praise me for it? Ha! Take me for granted is what they do.

Again today, the red monster took off across the field as soon as my mistress turned her back. I watched her go and shook my head in disgust, knowing what will happen. Will they lock the doors and call the pound? No! They'll let her come back, scold her a teensy bit, and forgive her. She'll be back on my couch, lying on my cushion, eating my food and drinking my water before nightfall. And they don't understand why I don't like her.

Sure enough, after a couple of hours, there she was. On the patio, stickers in her fur, looking sheepish. And what do they do? Scold her, comb out the stickers, and let her right back in! If they had a fatted calf, they'd probably kill it too and throw her a party!

All I can say is, I hope you humans aren't like that. When someone offends you, I hope you drive them away forever, refuse to let them apologize, and remain as haughty as possible all your days. That would be the right thing to do, the Yankee thing to do. If I was human, that's what I'd do.

Let's face it, there are just some dogs--and humans--who don't deserve a second chance. Or third or fourth, as is the case with What's-Her-Name.

So to those of you who refuse to forgive, harbor resentment in your hearts, and let outright hate fester inside towards people who've offended you---I'm proud of you! You should be proud of yourself, too. You're my kind of human. Right on my level.

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Are You Rolling in Something Gross?

The scent was intoxicating.

She couldn't get enough of it and was certain the others would be equally thrilled--jealous, even--when she pranced by, leaving the tantalizing aroma in her wake. She'd never done anything like this before, but the thrill was too great to pass by.

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So she lay down on it and rolled. Over and over, feeling the thing ooze beneath her back, delighting in the knowledge that at this moment, she was making the aroma hers. It would be her identity, her calling card, and those in the house would be amazed.

My clean little Maltese had discovered a squished earthworm in the grass and for the first time in her life, she had to have it. Had to roll on it, had to make it part of her. We pulled her off it eventually and wiped the brown stains from her snowy hair.

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We laughed at her, the way she pranced and looked longingly back at the squashed mess in the yard as though leaving a treasure. Didn't she know how gross it was? She'd just had a bath, and now the dusky scent of earthworm overpowered Doggy Groomer cologne. It was obvious to everyone but her how disgusting her treasure was, yet she walked with a proud strut as though modeling a silk collar.

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Know anyone who does the same thing?

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They cover themselves in worldly baubles, ooze materialistic pride, and wear seduction like cologne. They strut their stuff, arrogance swirling around them like a silk cloth, and challenge the rest of us: "Aren't I wonderful? Don't you wish you were me?"

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And those of us who've inhaled the scent of Mercy, who've basked in the presence of the Holy One, who've worshipped at the feet of True Beauty, wrinkle our noses. The smell is nauseating, the brown stains unattractive. What are they so proud of?

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What the world calls desirable, God calls rubbish. What the world calls wise, God calls foolish. The pride we slather ourselves in, God calls filthy rags.

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Next time you see a dog rolling in a decaying mess, think about this: As gross as that looks, what are you covering yourself with that reeks to High Heaven?

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Whose Got the Purina?

My 6-pound Maltese put on 2 more pounds the month after we got Babe.
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Suddenly, her food dish was filled with way more food than she could eat. But she tried anyway. Standing guard night and day, she ate as much as she could hold, trying to keep Babe from getting any. Nine months later, she's still at it.

It's not possible to reason with a piece of fluff whose brain is not much bigger than a quarter, so I've given up. But it's aggravating to watch her spend her days lying on the floor by her full dish on the chance that Babe will try to get a bite to eat. Her life would be so much fuller if she wasn't preoccupied with preventing something she really can't control.
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As I refilled the dish today from the giant sack of Purina, I thought how much like Yankee we are. We stand guard over our treasures, our lives, afraid to invest ourselves in the lives of others for fear there won't be anything left for us. We hunker down with our nose to the grindstone, competing for that prize, looking out for number one, because maybe nobody's looking out for us.
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And all the time, God watches us with his big bag of Purina, ready to keep us filled if we'd just get out of the way. He's got an endless supply of everything we need. Investing ourselves in others doesn't deplete the supply in any way. There's always more when we need it.

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It's not only money we're stingy with. Our time, our schedules, our talents can all be poured out over and over again, and like the widow's oil, our lives stay full.

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Yankee may never learn where all that dog food comes from, but we can learn. God says, "Try me now and see. I will open up the windows of Heaven and you will have so much you can't hold it all."

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So, how do you spend your days? Are you lying beside your food dish or do you know Who's keeping it filled?