There are rules...or I should say principles to learn to become an angel dog. Yesterday I screwed up royally. I swear, I couldn't help it and if I were being totally honest here, I'm not sure I feel sufficiently contrite about my error in judgment to EVER pass the muster up here at the Rainbow Bridge. My knobby little pair of wings will probably never blossom into glorious, pure white fluttering appendages like my brother Jason and my silly sister Sarah has. If I didn't have such a macho image to maintain, I'd sit down and cry about that.
What exactly did I do? you ask. I crossed over the line and possessed little Levi for a few minutes. I truly, truly couldn't---why won't anyone believe me---help myself. As an angel in training we're suppose to learn how to look out for our earthly charges without twisting their desire to fit our own purposes. How was I supposed to know that doing the latter was more like the devil's work? The angel pledge is full of fine print. Yadda, yadda, yadda. Who reads all that?
Anyway, back my heartfelt confusion. Levi was in the bathroom while Mom was peeing and I saw him looking at the flash of white paper that came off the roller. "Do it!" I shouted in his head. "Grab it!" And he did! I know I possessed Levi for a few moments because he's been watching Mom pee and pull toilet paper off the roll for two months now and he just accepted that flash of paper as something humans do. It was none of his business and he had that down pat until I planted the naught idea in his head. This time---because of me---he snatched the paper out of Mom's hand, took off running and left her holding air. I used to do that all the time in my the first two years and last six months on earth.
Jason said that what I did was bad in principle but not in deed.
"What the heck does that mean?" I asked him.
He gave me that wise-old-monk-on-a-mountain-top look of his, laughed and said, "Grasshopper, some answers you must find in your heart." ©
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Showing posts with label devil. Show all posts
Showing posts with label devil. Show all posts
Monday, July 7, 2008
Saturday, June 7, 2008
Poor Pooping Levi!
Oh, my God, my mom is ruining Levi! Three nights in a row she got her head lost in her keyboard and completely missed his very weak-but-still-there attempts to use mental telepathy on her. So he did the next best thing a puppy in poop distress could do. He did his job in front of the door. Mom bawled herself out up one side and down the other but if she doesn't learn to pay attention soon poor Levi is going to need a doggie shrink to undo our mother's failings.
To make matters worse, two times in the past few days he's pooped on the deck instead of in the dog yard. That's Mom's fault too. She gave my baby brother too much access to the deck. That deck is huge, wrapping two sides of the house so Dad can take his wheelchair out there from three different rooms of the house. Until last week Mom was limiting Levi to one end of the deck using a lattice work barrier to contain him. But she used that lattice to line the picket fence to keep Levi from doing another Houdini escape.
Too much deck freedom or not, it's not as if my brother wasn't being supervised outside. Sort of. Mom's been faithfully sitting out there with him but when Levi pooped on the deck she was lost in the Marley and Me book. Yup, while reading about the antics and misdeeds of Marley the Labrador retriever our own puppy was having a major melt down because he couldn't find the steps down off the deck to the dog yard. Levi needs to learn to turn his mental telepathy up a notch when he's asking for help and Mom needs to quit being an airhead.
Jason, my angel brother up here with me, says Mom raised three other puppies who turned out just fine and I have to have more faith that she'll shape up before she ends up creating a permanent problem. But I'm wondering if Jason remembers how one-tracked and lost in another world Mom gets when she reading and writing. It's been a long time since he lived on earth with her plus she's seventeen older now.
I also confided in Jason that I'm a little worried Levi might be a tad slow at catching on to how life and bodily functions work. He laughed at that one and reminded me that I was nearly three years old before I figured out farting. Whenever I'd do it I'd take off running as if the devil himself was giving me a rectal exam with his pitch fork. All our canine pals up here the bridge who heard Jason tell that story had a good laugh over that one. ©
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To make matters worse, two times in the past few days he's pooped on the deck instead of in the dog yard. That's Mom's fault too. She gave my baby brother too much access to the deck. That deck is huge, wrapping two sides of the house so Dad can take his wheelchair out there from three different rooms of the house. Until last week Mom was limiting Levi to one end of the deck using a lattice work barrier to contain him. But she used that lattice to line the picket fence to keep Levi from doing another Houdini escape.
Too much deck freedom or not, it's not as if my brother wasn't being supervised outside. Sort of. Mom's been faithfully sitting out there with him but when Levi pooped on the deck she was lost in the Marley and Me book. Yup, while reading about the antics and misdeeds of Marley the Labrador retriever our own puppy was having a major melt down because he couldn't find the steps down off the deck to the dog yard. Levi needs to learn to turn his mental telepathy up a notch when he's asking for help and Mom needs to quit being an airhead.
Jason, my angel brother up here with me, says Mom raised three other puppies who turned out just fine and I have to have more faith that she'll shape up before she ends up creating a permanent problem. But I'm wondering if Jason remembers how one-tracked and lost in another world Mom gets when she reading and writing. It's been a long time since he lived on earth with her plus she's seventeen older now.
I also confided in Jason that I'm a little worried Levi might be a tad slow at catching on to how life and bodily functions work. He laughed at that one and reminded me that I was nearly three years old before I figured out farting. Whenever I'd do it I'd take off running as if the devil himself was giving me a rectal exam with his pitch fork. All our canine pals up here the bridge who heard Jason tell that story had a good laugh over that one. ©
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