Three Dog Beds and Mom's Chair

Angel dogs in training are not supposed to be jealous of their charges. And I'm not. Truly I'm not. Really, really, really I'm not. I just want to know why my earth-bound brother, Levi, is allowed to sleep in Mom's chair but I never was. She even had one of those X-Mat pet training things designed to keep me from getting up there. Be warned, dogaroons, those thing hurts when you jump on them!

You're probably thinking there's more to the story. I guess I did leave out that fact that I liked to dig in the chair, too, trying to make a nest for myself while pretending I was out in the wilds of Montana. But Levi will learn to do that as well. Doesn't Mom know that? No, she just lets him sleep where he can keep an eye on her in the kitchen and Dad in his Lazy Z Boy. I'm not jealous---I think I've established that---I'm just concerned for Mom's judgment with raising Levi. She's getting old, you know.

And since I'm making comparisons, he's got three---count them---one, two, three dog beds. I only had one. He's got the soft, cushy one in the laundry room that he uses at night. Another one that fits in the bottom of his crate that Mom keeps in the car, and the third is a 'crate liner' bed that Levi is allowed to drag all through the house so he can plop down and sleep where ever he pleases.

Here is a photo of Levi in his crate liner bed, sleeping next to the waste basket. Can you believe it, he's never looked inside that basket! What self-respecting dog wouldn't have dove in after the junk mail and shredded paper by his age? He's going to be six months old on the 23rd, he should know about waste baskets by now. I hope he's not retarded.

My angel brother Jason says I have a selective memory. He says I didn't need a dog bed in the car because I always got to ride on Mom's lap back in the days when Dad could drive and after that I got to ride on Dad's lap. Levi needs a crate and bed in the car because, 1) he doesn't know enough not to jump out of an open door while Mom is transferring Dad to his wheelchair and 2) times have changed since I was a pup and Mom knows, now, that dogs are safer riding in the back where air bags can't get them.

I'll concede that Jason is right about all of that but he didn't have a logical explanation for why Levi has that third bed. The best he could come up with is that when I am able to let go of my earthly attachment to things, Levi could have a hundred beds and it won't matter to me. This is where Jason loses me with all that Zen stuff. Up here at the Rainbow Bridge, what ever we can imagine having to make us happy---tennis balls, steaks, Sarah with her pink tutu, fields to run in, water to play in---they magically appear. Yet when I look down on earth, all I'm suppose to see and help nurture is love, compassion and laughter.

"You already have that ability inside you," Jason told me. "You just need to master using it."

"Couldn't you just wave a magic wand and make me full angel wings worthy?" I begged him. All I've got now are those stubby trainer wings, you know.

"And have you miss great opportunities to grow and learn?" he answered with a smile. "That's not the angel way."

Love, compassion, laughter, growth, and learning---I'm tired of trying to figure out what all this has to do with Levi having three dog beds and Mom's chair to sleep in. I've got a poker game to go to. I'm out of here. Catch you later, alligators. ©

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