Tag Archives: competitive

Talk About My Dog

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People ask me what kind of dog I have in the truck.  I tell them it’s a hairy dog that sheds.  But how I would love to tell them what I’m really thinking.

“Why do you ask me what kind of dog it is?  I think it’s visually obvious.  It’s a dog with a hairy body.  That’s what kind of dog it is.”

What they want to do is strike up a conversation with the owner of the dog.  Got it.  But why can’t we talk about things that really matter?

I’m not into social competition.  BECAUSE: No matter what I say, someone’s bound to judge me.  If I do drugs, the druggies love me, but the straight folks despise me.  If I’m a straight dude the druggies hate me.

If I say something vile, the vile will love me.  If I keep my mouth separate for pure words, the vile despise me.  And often times before I open my mouth I am hated simply because I exist.

The question about the dog has to do with competition.  If the dog is of “special” breed then the conversation is noteworthy and admirable.  But if its just a hairy dog that sheds, there is no value to the conversation at all.  The speaker goes away empty-handed and disillusioned.  The people aren’t interested in me.  They’re searching for noteworthy information.

This is true with everything that man has or doesn’t have.  This is why I am not into social competition, and I sincerely prefer to speak of heaven and the Holy Son of the Living God.  But no one asks me, “What kind of God do you worship”.

The funny thing is, apparently no one but me even thinks about this.  Really, is it funny?

Marking

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I went down to feed our outside dog.  He is an amiable, lovable creature.  The big galoot wags his massive tail, and smiles with open jaw, exposing his sharp teeth.  Woe to the one he despises.

I poured the food to the ground.  Why not?  It is his plate.  Why waste time to put it on a platter, as if I would feed a man.  He will not clean it and put it away for me.  It will only blow around in the wind.

So I go upstairs and look out the window to watch him enjoy his meal.  He has finished eating before I arrived at the window. 

He was not hungry enough to finish the entire meal.  And what I see him doing reminds me of Man.  He is happily urinating on his food.

“This is mine!”   He proclaims with vulgarity.  “Come eat what I have if you will, but you will not like the taste.”

I see it in the streets.  I see it as they’re shopping.  I see it in their homes, even among those they say they love.  And I have been witness to it in the best of possible places for man; The Church.

By His Grace