You're Being Called

My wife and I got the call the other night form our daughter and son-in-law asking if we would baby sit (Chihuahua sit) for the weekend. How can you say no to the opportunity to spoil a couple of little dogs like grand-children? Princess is a reserve matriarch rescue, found on the road one rainy night, pregnant, cold and scared. They took her in, helped her with her first litter of pups, and her second, and her third. She’s my little Bella’s grand-mother. Her whole purpose in life now is to find someone to cuddle up next to, content to watch the world go by. Dog number two is from the same litter as my Bella. My dog would be considered the runt of any litter, but her little brother looked like the period at the end of a sentence when delivery time had ended. His was appropriately named Little-Bit, a quiet black and tan, short-legged and barrel shaped pup, totally content to be wherever Princess is, doing whatever she’s doing. The two of them are always welcome at my house where we have neighborhood dogs to play with in a big fenced in yard, lots of food and regular naps. Princess gives that look of that’s okay for the kids and finds a place to lie down in the sun. Little-Bit really doesn’t know how to play, being raised by and living with his grandma, but he eventually warms up to the idea of almost romping about, yet always looking into the direction of Princess to see if it was alright for him to do so. It’s a funny but obedient relationship. My dog just goes about her business letting the two guests share her bed and water dish. Food bowls are a different thing all together, but we all seem to manage the situation in the long run without squabbling over proprietary issues. One can tell they miss their mommy and daddy as they look to the door every time it’s ajar.


[Matthew 19:16-30] We are all out in the world looking for a comfortable, secure place to be, preferably with a guarantee of happiness. I wish to pass along this list, compiled by Thomas Massaro, placed in his local church bulletin, to echo my personal invitation to come in out of the cold and enjoy the warmth of God’s love. “We extend a special welcome to those who are single, married, divorced, gay, filthy rich, dirt poor, yo yo hable lngles. A special welcome to those who are crying new-born’s, skinny as a rail or could afford to lose a few pounds. We welcome you if you can sing like Andrea Bocelli or like our preacher who can’t carry a note in a bucket. You’re welcome here if you’re “just browsing”, just woke up or just out of jail. We don’t care if you’re more Catholic than the Pope, or haven’t been in church since little Joey’s baptism. We welcome those over 60 but not grown up yet, and teenagers who are growing up too fast. We welcome soccer moms, NASCAR dads, starving artists, tree huggers, latte-sippers, vegetarians and junk-food eaters. We welcome those who are recovering and still addicted. We welcome you if you’re having problems, or you’re down in the dumps, or if you don’t like “organized religion” (been there too). You’re welcome here if you blew all your offering money on a bet. We especially welcome those who think the earth is flat, work too hard, don’t work, can’t spell, or because grandma is in town and wanted to go to church. We welcome those who are inked, pierced or both. We especially welcome those who could use a prayer right now, had religion shoved down your throat as a child, or were lost in traffic and got here by mistake. We welcome tourists, seekers and doubters, bleeding hearts …and you!” God knows and loves you.