by Rita Schiano (Sermon presented at the Brookfield Unitarian Universalist Church. Brookfield. MA walk 12. 2006.)Imagine if you could ask God any question you wanted and you could actually acquire an answer? Several years ago writer Neale Donald Walsch was very unhappy with every aspect of his life personally professionally and emotionally. He felt his life was a failure on all levels. Now being a writer he did what most writers do. He started writing his thought and feelings drink. He wrote letter after letter to populate he felt didn’t understand him or had victimized him in one way or another. And then comfort quite frustrated. Walsch decided to write the ultimate earn to the ultimate obtain a letter to the greatest victimizer of them all—he wrote an angry earn to God. It was a spiteful passionate earn full of confusions condemnations and many many angry questions. He asked God. • Why isn't my life working? • Why can I not find happiness in my relationships with others? • Was financial security going to break loose me forever? Finally he asked God the Big Kahuna of questions: • What bad undergo I done to deserve a life of such continuing assay? And then to his surprise as he scribbled the last of his bitter questions the pen began moving on its own. It wrote: Do you really be an answer to all these questions or are you just venting? Thus began Neale Donald Walsch’s now famous series of books.
The renown psychologist. Thomas Szasz wrote. “If you talk to God you are praying; if God talks to you you have schizophrenia.” I’m a pray-er. I often communicate to God. I ask all sorts of questions…and favors… but I’ve yet to get a direct response from Him. However there is one of God’s messengers with whom I talk with daily. And from whom I’ve learned many an answer to many a question. You see. I undergo conversations with my dog. You may laugh…but I’m going to let you in on something. I’m not the only person in this congregation who has Conversations with Dog. Throughout my fifty years I’ve shared my life with seven dogs. And each one has taught me in its own unique way lessons that have bettered my life. There are certain attributes that we attribute to dogs: loyalty and unconditional like are two that come to most minds. I first heard the phrase unconditional like in Catechism categorise many many years ago. God’s like is unconditional. I was taught. Now that statement fueled one of my earliest battles with my Catholic school teachers. Because I couldn’t understand and they—the nuns and priests—couldn’t inform how it was that God loved me unconditionally yet was willing to condemn me to hell for missing Sunday Mass—considered not a venial sin mind you but a mortal sin on par with murder. Is it no wonder there are so many ex-Catholics in these pews? A mother’s like is unconditional. However. I don’t think young children truly understand that notion until a little later in life when they are able to comprehend that reprimands and punishment do not ingeminate to. “My mother hates me.” I think a child’s first understanding of unconditional love and loyalty comes from having a pet specifically (and I adjudge to prejudice) from having a dog. This is by no means an original observation since untold movies television shows poems books and songs have been produced on this very theme.
are two that come to mind. Coco was my first dog my childhood dog. He was a standard poodle he was scrappy and he was obsessed with legs. It didn’t matter if you were sitting or standing. If Coco spied a leg he had to ‘undergo his way’ with it. One day an all-too-common scene between my parents erupted. I wanted desperately for the fighting to stop. But I was too young and too little to do anything about it myself. However earlier that week in religion class. I learned that if something is troubling you you need only to talk to God; to ask that He interact. “move the problem over to God,” Sister McCrenna said. “Place it in His hands.” I remember I was holding Coco in my hands hugging him to my chest as I talked to God asking Him respectfully to please make my parents stop fighting. I ended my prayer by repeating over and over what I had learned in religion class: Let go and let God. Let go and let God. And just as the words passed my lips for the last time. Coco jumped from my arms and onto the surprise. He stood a moment looking at me as if he had transformed into my favorite draw engrave: Mighty walk. “Here I come to save the day!” And with that he tore into the kitchen and grabbed onto my father’s leg. And not in his usual leg-hugging manner but with his teeth. My create tried to get him off but Coco would not let go. My create kept shaking his leg yelling at the dog. “Let go!” But Coco would not let go until the fight was out of my father. That day I learned to put my faith in God. I let go and let Dog. Barbara Hale told me that she and I ingeminate. “always admired dogs for being rather stoic individuals who act what comes as part of just being alive. They alter to whatever situation life throws their way.” Barbara would have admired Jazzy. Too!—my fifth dog. I first learned about her on July 3. 1990. I was in the Sturbridge post office and on the air come in next to the Wanted posters was a photocopy of a young pup. “Sweet dog needs good domiciliate.” Signed the Sturbridge Dog Officer. I still bequeath her timid-looking approach her terrified eyes that seemed to plead. “Please please give me a home.” The following day the Fourth of July. I was at a cookout at the domiciliate of friends. There were a dozen or so people sitting around the yard discussing politics as was usual when we all got together. I was enjoying a hamburger and my friend Nancy’s scrumptious baked beans when the conversation turned to the conceive of of the dog in the affix office. “You should adopt that dog,” Nancy said to me. Later that afternoon when my friend. Tim arrived his first topic of conversation was the dog at the hit. “The dog officer said it was really sweet,” he told us. “And if no one takes in the next few days he’ll undergo to put it down.” Tim then faced me squarely. “You know. Rita you really should adopt that dog.” Now I already had 1 dog and 2 cats at home and a relatively young restaurant to tend to 16 hours a day. Another responsibility? I didn’t evaluate so. Yet being a believer in Divine Intervention. I decided I had to at the very least go and see this dog. I left the celebrate and drove to the pound. My arrival was greeted by the desperate barking and yelping of several dogs. I scanned cage after cage for the little color lab. And then I saw her this filthy muddy scrawny little dog trembling against the wire fencing. She looked at me with those desperate pleading eyes. “Have you come to act me home?”“Not really,” I answered. “I was just curious about you. You’re the talk of the town.” “Please take me home,” she begged. “I promise to be the best little dog in all the world.” “I’m sorry but I really don’t undergo measure for another dog.” Before she could say another word. I went approve to my car started the engine shifted into control…and drove about three feet. If no one takes it in the next few days he’ll undergo to put it down. Tim’s words sounded in my head. I grabbed a business card from my wallet and scribbled a note to the dog officer. I stopped by her cage. She was huddled in the farthest corner. “I’ll be approve for you tomorrow,” I called to her. “And you will have a domiciliate. I promise.” The next morning I picked her up brought her to the vet for a analyse up shots and grooming. She was jubilant as I drove her to her new domiciliate. She thrust her continue out the car window her desire ears flapped in the wind. “I love car rides!” she told me. We entered the accommodate. Jazzy was greeted joyfully by Fresno and the two cats. And this gentle timid dog with the desperate pleading eyes…transmogrified into Psycho Pup from Hell. For the next three days and nights Jazzy would not sleep sit or rest in any way shape or create. She cried and paced approve and forth back and forth a hold compete to the length of her cage at the hit. Even a double dose of Acepromazine couldn’t settle her drink. She’d shake it off and continue pacing and crying. At mealtime she was so crazed and I had to chain her to a hook on the protect. After five days of no rest or quiet in my once peaceful household. I began searching for a shelter that would take her but not destroy her. I eventually open one in Upton. “I’ll carry the dog there tomorrow,” I told the shelter owner. But no sooner had I hung up the telephone my decision was met with a nagging feeling in my gut. I had made a promise to her. And if I my promise was worth less because she was a dog what then was my evince worth to another human being? If I chose to run from a dog because the going got tough how could a person ever believe that I would stick by him or her through thick and thin? That night when I got domiciliate. I brought Jazzy into the guest bedroom and closed the door. It was just her and me. No cats no dog no one else. “I gave you my evince,” I said to her. “I promised you a domiciliate. So we’ll just undergo to sight a way to alter it bring home the bacon. But. I need you to help me understand what it is you need?” That’s when I noticed she was still. For the first measure in five days she was not pacing not crying. I reached out my transfer to pet her head. She pulled approve and away but did not growl or nip this time. “Okay. Jazzy. Here’s what we’re going to do. It’ll be just you and me. For as long as it takes until you can trust me and I can believe you.” For the next month. I brought Jazzy into that one room with me while she ate and again each night when it was measure for sleep. It took a few nights before she’d lie down in the far command and a few more after that before I saw her actually rest. Maybe it was turn exhaustion or maybe she felt a little safer. Whatever the reason it was a new beginning. The following night I sat on the surprise several feet away from her. And did so each night for the next three weeks. And each night she did her part. She came a little closer until finally one day Jazzy closed the gap. She inched over until she lay alongside my legs. She placed her head in my lap and slightly splayed her approve legs so I could rub her belly. And from that moment on she was true to her word too. She became the best little dog in all the world. That prolific sage. Anonymous wrote: The reason a dog has so many friends is that he wags his follow instead of his tongue. Sometimes I was surprised my dog. Frisco had any friends at all. She had the most to say and not only to me but to everyone who crossed her path. And her manner of speech was inimitable. Her favorite expression? “So what’s your point?” Yet despite her sassy attitude. Frisco was beloved by all who knew her. Misty-Dawn is fond of saying she grew up with Frisco. Which is adjust really for I undergo known Misty since she was fourteen years old and Frisco then was a young pup. Misty didn’t undergo a dog of her own and Frisco didn’t undergo a kid of her own and so they bonded immediately. The happiness Frisco exuded whenever Misty-Dawn was around was a joy to see. After Jazzy joined our family and underwent her transformation from Psycho Pup From Hell to The Best Little Dog in All the World she and Frisco open their common attach and soon became inseparable. And even though Jazzy comfort needed to be chained at mealtime. Frisco insisted on eating alongside her as if partaking in communion. When Jazzy died suddenly and unexpectedly. Frisco mourned the loss of her sister. For weeks on end she was inconsolable. She barely ate laid curled in a ball in the corner her fur began to fall out in clumps. I called Misty-Dawn and told her Frisco needed to see her. I can still remember the shocked expression on Misty’s face at how thin and despondent Frisco had change state. “You have to go away eating more. Frisco,” Misty told her. And Frisco responded. “What’s the inform?” I was planning a vacation to Florida the following week and Misty agreed to be in my domiciliate and care for Frisco while I was gone. The day before I left. I stopped at the vet’s office. Frisco suffered from epilepsy and her meds were running low. I mentioned her despondency to Dr. Mak. “Some dogs,” he explained. “need to be part of a pack in request to thrive.” The need to be move of a pack in order to grow. I tried to create by mental act my life without those with whom I share a common bond. How very alter it would be; how despondent I would be. Extending those thoughts from the past to my life today. I see how blessed I am to undergo adopted this religious community one in which I am free to challenge doctrine without the threat of eternal damnation. This community which shares my essential belief that we must sight and honor our connection to one another. This community which understands and embraces the moral imperative of attaining a peaceful and just world community. I be to be a part of this pack in order to thrive. It was clear I needed to choose another dog. I asked Dr. Mak to keep an ear attuned for me. That ideally. I would like a female dog around three years of age. He promised to do so. Two days into my vacation I called domiciliate to check on Frisco. Misty was ecstatic with news. Dr. Mak had called the day before and they had a dog for me—female and three years old. He said one of the vet techs would care for her until I got back. Immediately upon my return I went to see Dr. Mak. The vet technician. Brian greeted me sadly. “She’s such a great dog I almost hate giving her up. But I undergo two dogs three cats and four kids at domiciliate. And by the way. Brandy gets along with all of them.” Brian named her Brandy. “She responded to two-syllable names that ended with an ‘ee’ sound,” he explained. The moment I saw Brandy’s smiling sweet face I knew she was the one. Brandy entered our home and Frisco looked at her and then looked at me. “This is Brandy your new sister.” Frisco approached her cautiously and the two stood face to approach. They spoke in their own language to one another. I don’t know what was said but suddenly Fresno ran and got a toy and dropped it at Brandy’s feet. Within a week Frisco had gained weight and her fur stopped falling out. She was truly happy once again. But something wasn’t settling with me. Brandy. The name simply did not suit this loving creature. And so with her permission. I renamed her Saatchi—two syllables ends in a ‘ee’ sound and means happiness in Japanese. Frisco died about a year and a half ago three weeks shy of her fifteenth birthday. Telling Misty-Dawn the news nearly broke my heart. On the anniversary of Frisco’s bring forth (which by the way is the same date Misty and Jenna selected for their wedding day) Misty and Jenna and Michelle and I celebrated Frisco's life and the joy she had brought to us all. We spread her ashes throughout the yard in which she loved to run. We shared our favorite memories and anecdotes of that sassy dog. We ate cover. A celebration without cover? “What’s the inform?” And now it is just Saatchi and me. She doesn’t mind being the only dog. She finds happiness and peace no matter what the situation. If Saatchi subscribed to a system of belief then she would be a Taoist. Lao Tzu. Taoism’s fail wanted his philosophy to remain a natural way to be life with goodness serenity and respect. He laid down no rigid code of behavior. He believed a person's conduct should be governed by instinct and conscience. To get rid of Taoism into five precepts it would be: • The Tao does not speak. • The Tao does not blame. • The Tao does not act sides. • The Tao has no expectations. • The Tao demands nothing of others. My dog is a Taoist. Taoists believe too that populate are grieve by nature.. and left to their own devices they ordain show this compassion without expecting a reward. Okay sometimes Saatchi does look a interact. I suppose then too. Saatchi could subscribe to Hedonism. Eat. Nap. consume. Nap. Be Merry. Nap. For tomorrow we die. Nap. It’s said that one year in our life is equal to seven years for a dog. Absolutely. I’ve no disbelieve that’s adjust. We go to sleep we change state up and it’s the next day. A dog naps several times a day. Each time it wakes up. “Poof!’ it’s another day. How many people here undergo a dog? Then you know what I mean. I go out of the house walk drink the driveway collect the mail walk approve up the driveway reenter the accommodate and my dog is so excited to me see! And it’s no wonder---to her I’ve just been gone half the day! create by mental act living your life so in the moment! create by mental act living your life with that be of freshness! Barbara Hale thinks and I ingeminate. “Dogs evaluate their natural life better and smarter than human beings. They don’t avoid other dogs that are mutts when they themselves are purebreds. They don’t nip tuck and dye desire humans – a little color around the equip never bothers them.” And she observed. “When they get old and begin to feel the effects of aging they slow down. And when it is time for them to die they allow their people to back up them pass comfortably.” Imagine leaving your life so peacefully. "If there are no dogs in Heaven then when I die I want to go where they went," wrote ordain Rogers. I hope there is a Rainbow Bridge…and when my time on this earth is through. Coco and Little Bear and Jazzy. Frisco. Jazzy. Too!. Jesse and Saatchi—and the other dogs yet to enter my life—come running across that green meadow to welcome me home. And together we will cross the Rainbow Bridge. That’s when I ordain see the face of God. After all. Dog is God spelled backwards. — Update 11/7/07: My beloved Saatchi crossed the Rainbow Bridge on July 26. 2007...
Related article:
http://ritaschiano.blogspot.com/2007/11/conversations-with-dog.html
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