God is Cool!

Hi Everyone

This is Roscoe. I know I said I’d tell you about God this time, but instead I want to talk about how I know God . . . personally!

I listen a lot, more than most people think. In fact, being a “people” seems to be the real problem. All my life, starting in the kennel I was kept in right after I was born and then at the store where Jane and Ted found me, I was always in the company of other dogs (cats, too, but I don’t want to talk about that!). We got all tangled up with each other to keep warm and faux-fought to get our muscles working well, but we always, always knew about God. None of us could do anything that wasn’t part of God’s program. For instance, I couldn’t hate any animal. I don’t have a hate switch.

All day long it was the same: God loves all of us, he has stuff for us to do that defines each of us. For example, I can’t see a small hole anywhere without trying to dig in it. I want to find the bottom because there may be a critter down there. That’s what I am, a rat killing digger. I’m the best.

Beagles, well, they cannot stop sniffing, sniffing, and sniffing some more. They do it when they are asleep. They do it all the time. Pointers are always stopping suddenly with one paw up, pointing. I tell them it’s rude to point, but they say they cannot help themselves. They got to be them, just like I got to be me!

But more about God. All of us animals (not dumb animals, please) know the Creator. He’s always there, he’s always aware, always on duty. We like that. He made us to be who we are and then he stuck around to watch us, enjoy us even. God is cool.

As far as heaven is concerned, people say we aren’t going there because we are soulless creatures. Well, being soulless can be fun, since you can’t do anything except what you were made to do. And you can’t, positively can’t, get in trouble. By the way, I overhear some humans I know wishing they could find the one thing they were made to do . . . then they would be happy. I already am happy, because I always do what I was made to do.

I think it must be hard to be a human, making all those decisions, all those plans. I don’t know what a headache is, what heartburn is, but they get it all the time. It is tough being a human, I guess.

Anyway, I live real close to God all the time, all day, every day. Even when they give me a haircut, like yesterday, I just take it. They’re getting old and don’t see too well, and sometimes I get poked with the scissors. I cooperate. Ted sometimes says, like when he has to go to the doctor, that you should cooperate. He says, if you move around in the barber’s chair, you’re going to get hurt.”

The donkeys are coming up the street and I am going to have to run outside and bark through the gate, so I better finish up. Remember I said I just do my job because I have to do my job. Well, one day some people were here talking about God. I guess they don’t always remember that he’s always right here, enjoying and loving us. Anyway, some cat named Keach said, “What is the chief end of man? Man’s chief end is to glorify God and to enjoy him forever.”

That’s it. If you’re human, that’s your job! Glorify God and enjoy him forever! Then you should be happy. But they say it, and then next week someone says something like it again . . . but they don’t do it.

Seems to me that the secret to love, and all the love I know about comes from God, is to do the job he gave you. Simple, right?

I think Ted and Jane and all their friends (you’re their friend, right?) should just start glorifying God and enjoying him . . . forever! But what do I know? I’m just a dumb animal.

The donkeys are here! Gotta go.

Roscoe

New Developments in Addis Ababa

Hi Folks – This is Roscoe. I haven’t written for a long, long time. It’s not my fault, really! I can’t do anything that requires opposable thumbs and Ted won’t let me use my nose on the keyboard. Something about my getting the keys all sticky. Never mind that he eats snacks while he works and gets cookie crumbs or cheese grease all over them. Like that’s different, right?

     I want you al to know that I have moved twice since my last blog. Each time it has been a better place for me. In fact, where we live now, near Megenagna Circle, the compound has a detached house, called a villa. I can finally run full-out and not have to turn around, which is great for cardio, as all you fellow fitness nuts know very well. And the gap under the gate is just big enough, if I put my head down and my rump up, to see what’s happening out there. We have sheep, goats, cats, dogs, cows and donkeys making regular appearances outside out gate. That’s because we have grass outside our wall and the people who take care of the grazing animals bring them around to eat for free. Plus, Ted doesn’t have to pay Redi or Getachew to cut that grass.

     The donkeys are the worst. They pee and fart out there and cause a ruckus. But the worse is when they s . . . , that is, they eliminate out there. Ted says we need mountain climbing gear to get out to the street. But then, he’s more than slightly prone to exaggerate. That’s the word he uses, anyway.

     Recently my friends Clara and Ephrem came to live in our compound. BTW, a compound is everything you have inside your wall surrounding your house. Everyone has a wall, unless they live in apartments or condominiums. It is necessary because people are poor here and they steal everything that isn’t nailed down or locked up. The razor wire on top of the walls sometimes make a neighborhood look more like the Berlin Wall, but once you understand it, it’s not so bad.

     Almost everybody here is peaceful and law abiding. But everyone understands that because a lot of people don’t have enough of the things we all need, if you leave something where someone can take it, they will take it. Ted says you can’t take it personally. It’s just what life is like when so many people are so poor. So it’s keys and locks, walls and gates and razor wire everywhere. Robert Frost would have a stroke, Ted says. That is, if he wasn’t dead already. “Something there is that doesn’t love a wall, that wants it down.” I don’t know what that’s all about, but Ted put it in anyway.

     As I was saying, Ephrem and Clara moved in a month ago They live in the service buildings, which are very nice by Ethiopian standards. And they brought a maid whose name is Addis. That’s confusing because our cleaning girl is also named Addis. They decided to call them Addis 1 and Addis 2. I forget which one is which, but then I can’t say “Addis” anyway. No “rrrrr’s” or “wwww’s.”

     The best thing is they brought a small person named Meley (Right -  Meley and me). She is crippled, I think, because she doesn’t walk and doesn’t talk and mostly sits around unless someone carries her, and that happens a lot. Oh yeah, she doesn’t have teeth, either. Anyway, she is my best friend because she is small. I’m a big dog, about seven pounds, but Meley is just the right size person for me.

     Meley has some bad habits, like she poops in her pants and drools an awful lot. And when they pick me up for Meley to give me a pat or a scratch, she pulls my hair and won’t let go . . . until it gets pulled out of my skin. Ouch!

I like to look at her when she is sleeping. I never make noise or bother her because I think she must be very old and can’t help that she does all that other stuff. Mostly, I can tell that she is kind and that she loves me. So I guess I love her back.

     Well, Ted has to go and watch for Jane coming home from school. We go out to the corner of our wall and wait. I never see Jane coming because I am much too busy checking out those mountains of donkey poop. I don’t know what they eat, but it sure smells good to me. Next time, I’ll tell you more about what I know about love.

Roscoe