Sunday, December 28, 2008

Dominicans and dogs


What is the significance of Dominicans and dogs?  Well, the story goes that when Blessed Jane of Aza was pregnant, she had a dream of a dog with a torch in its mouth.  The dog ran around the world, setting it on fire.  When others heard of her dream, they took it as a sign that the baby she was carrying would be born to do great things.  That baby was St. Dominic.  

There is also a play on the word "Dominicans."  Domini Canus literally means, "God's Dogs."

I like dogs.  At the present time,  I do not have a dog I can call my own.  So, when a friend of mine called me up to tell me she had the best Christmas gift for me, I was happy to hear it was a dog! 

"Foundem" is a black, mid-sized, curly haired, droopy eyed, floppy-eared fluff of love.  I can't tell you what breed he is, because, like his name says, he was found.  He had been placed up for adoption, but when no one wanted him, my friend's sister took him in.  She's hoping to find the right owner for him.  They thought I would be perfect.  I thought I could make it work.  So, yesterday, I picked up Foundem at his house and took him home with me.  The moment he came out of my car, he ran.  I had him by the leash, and his powerful body dragged me all over the place.  I must say, I had a very good workout!  He pushed me to the limit.  I have a good piece of property---many acres of what used to be a cornfield.  He enjoyed running from one end to the other and back again.  I couldn't get him to stop.  But my goat stopped him cold in his tracks.  Millie was busy munching on grass behind the barn she lives in.  That introduction didn't go so well.  I have never seen my goat's hairs stand up on edge like that.  I didn't like the noises she was making, and she ran for her life.  Foundem ran after her, and I was dragged around even more.  I was so out of breath, I thought I was having a heart attack.  He got pretty close to nipping Millie, but I had just enough strength to pull his leash before he could do any damage.  The chickens were all bunched up in their barn yard, looking at the action through their chicken wire fence.  They were spectators, but they didn't seem to be enjoying the game.  They looked absolutely terrified.  I think one of them looked me straight in the eye, and seemed to be asking, "What are you thinking bringing that monster here?"  My next door neighbor's kitten decided to come over and see what all the fuss was about.  When I spotted her, I groaned.  Before I knew it, Foundem rushed at her in a rage.  Again, it took all my strength to grab the leash back again, and pull him in.

20 minutes.  That's all I could take of him at my house.  I thought, there is no way I can keep this dog.  He messes up the nice ecosystem here...

I put him back into my car and drove him around to calm him down.  Then I drove to the Catholic church.  I had a bag of beef jerky and a bottle of water.  Foundem and I sat under a tree sharing the grub.  I took him over to the shrine of Our Lady of Fatima, and I said my Rosary.  He was a sweet dog the whole while.  Totally different than what he was at my house.  He stood on his hind legs, trying to lick my face as I prayed.  As usual, during my prayers, I closed my eyes.  I don't know if I was deeply meditating on the Rosary and didn't hear what was happening, but somewhere between the 4th and 5th Mystery, I looked at the leash, and Foundem wasn't there!  I asked Holy Mother Mary to help me get that dog back!  I found him jumping in the fields behind the church.  I ran after him, only aggravating the situation even more.  He thought I was playing with him, and he decided to take me for some laps around the large church.  I don't know if the priests were home, but they must have wondered who the crazy lady is, yelling and running after that dog?  I became frightened as  Foundem ran to the front of the church, where a major highway is.  I thought he was a goner, but something made me stop chasing him.  So I started to walk back to my car and prayed he would follow.  To my relief, he did.  In fact, he ran and beat me to my car, and I opened the door and he jumped back in.  I thanked the Blessed Mother for that!

All that running pooped him out, and he fell asleep in my back seat.  I drove him back to his house.  I told my friend that he was a swell dog, but not meant for me.  She didn't ask any questions.  I'm sure it was because my hair was totally messed and all pasted to my face, I was hot and sweaty.  My face and my clothes were filthy, and there were large drool stains all over my pant legs, not to mention the huge muddy paw prints smeared all over my shirt.  

I thought to myself as I wearily walked back to my car, "This Dominican doesn't need a dog."

That's an understatement!

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