Sunday, June 30, 2013

My Higher Calling!

Zoe here, hope all is well? I just got back from a walk with David. We went to the post office to mail a letter. I offered to lick the stamps or the envelope, or his hand, or pretty much any thing. You never know where you'll find absolutely incredible taste sensations. For all you dogs out there this is one of the many abilities that we excel over humans. Hear me out? How many times have you seen a human try some new food just to jump up from the table, run to the garbage can and just spit it out? I knew that humans have seriously few tastes buds the first time I saw my humom prepared a new type of egg and sausage scrambled dinner for my David. After the first bite, his face contorted, turned purplish- red, his eyes bulged and he passed gas, lots of it. It was spell binding. I didn't know that he could move that fast. Dropping his fork on his plate within a millisecond he was standing over my silver recycling bin, as I call it, and hacking up food. I swear that he propelled a chunk of sausage with such force that it dented the trash can. Seriously!

I don't want to get off track here an describe the rest of the story, how he then ran to the bathroom, brushed his teeth, performed his ancient teeth purifying ceremony called "flossing" and then practiced what he was going to say to my humom in the mirror. It was, as they say in Texas, a hoot. I frequently lie on my back, point my feet to the sky and twist my body into contortions in an effort suppress my laughter, when I recall this most amazing day. But the best part of this day was when they were making up, I went to the garbage can and dared to push the lid up with my nose so that I could sample the egg dish, but not only that there was left over pizza, bread stick, a third of a somewhat brown banana and humus. I could not have imagined that taste sensations of this magnitude even existed. Oh my tongue, it went limp and just hung out of my mouth. I lost control of it for ten minutes. All I could do was walk and drool. That's when I knew my true calling, my purpose.

How many times have I heard my humom and dad complain about taking the trash out? Early in the morning shuffling in their slippers, while catching escaping cans or crushed empty milk cartons they risk their very lives for me, just keeping things neat and sanitary. No more! I have decided to be "Recycler Dog". First I renamed the trash can, which is now known as recycler bin. This gives my mission clarity and purpose. Next I perform my recycling feats late at night or when I'm all alone in the house, except for Shadowy my new cat step-brother. So far my humom hasn't noticed that they take the garbage out a lot less frequently, which is okay with me I'm not in this for personal gain or acknowledgement. I just want to do my part for my peeps and for the planet. Well thanks for checking in with me. Remember this is all highly confidential! Your friend Zoe the Re Cycler-ler-ler Dog Dog Dog! (Imagine an echo).

SAFETY TIP: Zoe like all dogs is motivated by smells, tastes and love. Give your dog an extra portion of love by securing the trash can lid, so that it can't be opened by our helpful companions. You can do this with something as simple as Velcro, a magnet or even a bungee cord. This will keep their weight down and unsafe food out of reach!!


Sunday, June 9, 2013

Cat Scanned

Well this is my new life being psychoanalyzed by a cat. My hu-dad  and hu-mom  felt sorry for this  pretentious impostor who was living on the streets and invited him home to live with us. First it wasn't so bad  because he stayed outside in the garage. They even put in a cute little pet door for him, which of course I can't fit through, so all I could do was bark at him and watch him scurry like the little rodent that he is. It may interest you to know that it is a scientific fact that cats evolved from a cross species of rats and cockroaches.  I learned this from our mailman Cliff, who really knows just about everything.

Back to my lament. So for weeks my  hu-dad and hu-mom fed this unwanted  con artist, who just turned his matted little butt to them.  I looked though the window and watched them fall to their knees and grovel, treats in hand, trying to get some simple acknowledgement from this pestilent beggar. For days nothing, no response, but one fateful day my hu-dad fed the vermin out of his hand and then "it" rubbed up against him spreading it's fur dander poisons all over dad's arm, Yuk it was sickening.

The next thing I hear is dad telling mom, "we had a huge break though with the cat, I think we should name him so he can get used to us calling him." They sat down with a friend and finally all agreed on the name Shadow. I suggested adding a "Y" to the end of the name, but they claim that they couldn't understand me, yeah right! It wasn't quite two days later that they invited "Shadowy" into the house. That's when it happened, I flipped out. I charged at the intruder and barked as loud as I could only to be rebuffed by it's secret weapon, "morphing". He arched his back, made his hair stand on end and displayed Edward's Scissor-hand appendages as he hissed at me, "at me, the regal protector of the mansion and all that's holy."

To my amazement dad and mom hollered at me and did that disgusting "Dog whisperer" thing of poking me in my chest and spitting at me through pursed lips. Where did he come up with that? It's not scary or startling, I just can't stand the spit all over my face. So, I was given special CIA operative desensitization training, so that I could be more tolerant and welcoming of  "new family members" into our home. Now Shadowy has gone from "fluffy the slinking rodent-cat" that nobody in the neighborhood liked, including and especially me, to "my brother?" He doesn't even have to wear a collar or stay in the yard. He takes off all the time and brings back birds and gophers and other helpless things. That's my job!! Each time my hu-mom says, "oh look what he's brought back for you now honey." What? What? Are you kidding me? If I had opposable thumbs and could talk I'd dial animal services and report him. Hey no collar, no computer chip, no problem. Maybe I could just e-mail them with an anonymous complaint?

So what you see in this picture is DR. Shadowy, his status having astronomically skyrocketed in a few short months counseling me on how to discover my inner-self and live in the present in true peace and harmony, this at mom and dad's suggestion! Stay tuned.        

Saturday, June 1, 2013

Servant's Heart

Servant's Heart: There is nothing more appealing in human kind or in the animal kingdom than meeting up with a real servant hearted friend. This is Zoe asking in her own special way, "what can I do for you pop?" Sometimes she is a bit transparent wanting a scratch or a treat, but underneath even this is her desire to just connect with us, to share life. Zoe is now seven plus years old. She has been my running partner for most of her life. We are blessed to live in the central coast of California, with lots of scenic trails and canyons to explore. Since I enjoy running so much, what a treat to be able to take Zoe with me. We gradually worked up to ten and twelve mile runs, with strategic rest breaks in creeks and streams. She really enjoys a dip in a stream or playful frollicking in the ocean surf. And I enjoy sharing this time with her.

Sometimes however I endeaver to train for upcoming races, 5-k, 10-k or half-marathon. To run well I need to train hard and Zoe has been more than willing to match me stride for stride, regardless of any discomfort that she may experience. I started to notice that she would limp after longer runs, so her veterinarian prescribed anti-inflammatories. We started to use these more frequently, yet with her servants heart, she has always anticipated our runs and has been eager to go. She actually monitors what I wear, anticipating running shorts and shoes, which elicits robust tail wags and songs of joy as she searches for her leash.  

I recently came to a sad but important realization, that Zoe will with her sevant's heart run as far and as fast as she can just to please me. Yet what really pleases me is to just be with her, to look in her eyes and see unconditional love. Her nudges, wiggles and waggles open my heart to love and life. So in response to Zoe's training I now take her on much shorter runs, still to her favorite places, but now the journey is more for my servant friend whose very presence radiates God's joy in my life.

Zoe is teaching me about servanthood. Her advanced course in servanthood has helped me look more closely at my relationships with my human friends and stired a desire within me to serve more and bark less. I'm so greatful for my friend professor Zoe. 
Thanks for listening,
Servant in training!