Happy Soul Food Friday – Doggone It!

Happy Soul Food Friday!

Don’t tell me this town don’t got no heart… you just have to look around…

Go Unto God:

An atheist was seated next to a little girl on an airplane and he  turned to her and said, “Do you want to talk? Flights go quicker if  you strike up a conversation with your fellow passenger.”  The little girl, who had just started to read her book, replied to the  total stranger, “What would you want to talk about?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” said the atheist. “How about why there is no God  or no Heaven or Hell, or no life after death?” as he smiled smugly.
“Okay,” she said. “Those could be interesting topics but let me ask you a question first. A horse, a cow, and a deer all eat the same stuff – grass. Yet a deer excretes little pellets, while a cow turns out a flat patty, but a horse produces clumps. Why do you suppose that is?” The atheist, visibly surprised by the little girl’s intelligence, thinks about it and says, “Hmmm, I have no idea.” To which the little girl replies, “Do you really feel qualified to discuss God, Heaven and Hell, or life after death, when you don’t know poop?” And then she went back to reading her book…

Dog Knows God??

By AFP Jan 16, 2013


ROME – Since his owner died two months ago, Tommy the dog has not

missed a single mass in the small church in southern Italy where his

mistress’s funeral was held, Italian media said Wednesday.


When the bells of the Santa Maria Assunta church begin to toll each afternoon in San Donaci near Brindisi, the 12-year-old German Shepherd sets off from the village to get himself a front row seat next to the altar, Il Messaggero newspaper said.


His owner, who was known in local dialect as “Maria tu lu campu” — “Maria of the fields” — had lived alone with Tommy and three other rescue dogs, who used to follow her faithfully on her daily rounds and have now been adopted by the village.


After following his mistress’s coffin up to the church on the day of her funeral, Tommy has returned daily, sitting quietly throughout masses, baptisms and funerals, according to local priest Donato Panna, who now wouldn’t do without him.

Opening Another Door:

Could you imagine coming home from work to find this tiny creature napping on your couch with your dog?

Guess who came home for dinner? It followed this beagle home, right through the doggy door. This happened in Maryland recently.

The owner came home to find the visitor had made himself right at home…This hit the 6 o’clock news big time.



Fairy Dog Mother:

What mothers will do for her kids!!!


During an early morning response to a house fire, firefighters were amazed…

A Mother dog risked her life to save her puppies from the fire surrounding the burning house…

The Mother dog, Amanda, raced back and forth between the house, putting her 10 day old puppies in the safest place she could find – a Fire Truck! …


As an onlooker photographed it with his cell phone after she already had a few in one of the truck’s equipment compartments.

She didn’t stop racing back into the smoke and fire until all of her puppies were safely away from the fire.


The firemen on scene could not believe their eyes. Most people have never seen a dog this smart or this brave!

Bringing each one out, six trips into the fire and no one could stop her.


All the fireman could do was to try to keep a little water spray on her to keep from singing as she kept making trips running through the open door. You can see some of the singed hair on her back end, forehead and lower legs.

After rescuing all of her pups from the blaze, Amanda sat down next to them to nurse, protecting them with her body.

Onlookers called an emergency veterinary service and she and her pups were rushed to the hospital.

Aside from one puppy being treated for serious burns, the entire family are alive and well! Thanks to the bravery of Amanda! What an amazing mom!


It gets better…

A Great Dog Story and Well Worth the Read!!


They told me the big black Lab’s name was Reggie,

as I looked at him lying in his pen.

The shelter was clean,

and the people really friendly.


I’d only been in the area for six months, but

everywhere I went in the small college town, people

were welcoming and open. Everyone waves

when you pass them on the street.

But something was still missing as I attempted to settle

in to my new life here, and I thought a dog couldn’t hurt.

Give me someone to talk to. And I had just seen

Reggie’s advertisement on the local news. The shelter

said they had received numerous calls right after,

but they said the people who had come down

to see him just didn’t look like “Lab people,”

whatever that meant. They must’ve thought I did.

But at first, I thought the shelter had misjudged me

in giving me Reggie and his things, which consisted

of a dog pad, bag of toys almost all of which were

brand new tennis balls, his dishes and

a sealed letter from his previous owner.


See, Reggie and I didn’t really hit it off when we got home.

We struggled for two weeks (which is how long the shelter

told me to give him to adjust to his new home). Maybe it

was the fact that I was trying to adjust, too.

Maybe we were too much alike.


I saw the sealed envelope. I had completely forgotten

about that. “Okay, Reggie,” I said out loud, “let’s see

if your previous owner has any advice.”


To Whomever Gets My Dog:

Well, I can’t say that I’m happy you’re reading this,

a letter I told the shelter could only be opened by

Reggie’s new owner. I’m not even happy writing it.

He knew something was different.


So let me tell you about my Lab in the hopes

that it will help you bond with him and he with you.

First, he loves tennis balls. The more the merrier.

Sometimes I think he’s part squirrel, the way he hoards them.

He usually always has two in his mouth, and he tries to get

a third in there. Hasn’t done it yet. Doesn’t matter where

you throw them, he’ll bound after them, so be careful.

Don’t do it by any roads.


Next, commands. Reggie knows the

obvious ones —“sit,” “stay,” “come,” “heel.”

He knows hand signals, too: He knows “ball”

and “food” and “bone” and “treat” like nobody’s business.

Feeding schedule: twice a day, regular

store-bought stuff; the shelter has the brand.

He’s up on his shots. Be forewarned: Reggie hates the vet.

Good luck getting him in the car. I don’t know how he

knows when it’s time to go to the vet, but he knows.

Finally, give him some time. It’s only been Reggie and

me for his whole life. He’s gone everywhere with me,

so please include him on your daily car rides if you can.

He sits well in the backseat, and he doesn’t bark

or complain. He just loves to be around people,

and me most especially.


And that’s why I need to share one more bit of info with you…

His name’s not Reggie. He’s a smart dog, he’ll get used to it

and will respond to it, of that I have no doubt. But I just couldn’t

bear to give them his real name. But if someone is reading this …

well it means that his new owner should know his real name.

His real name is “Tank.” Because, that is what I drive.

I told the shelter that they couldn’t make “Reggie” available

for adoption until they received word from my company commander.

You see, my parents are gone, I have no siblings, no one I could’ve left Tank with …

and it was my only real request of the Army upon my deployment to Iraq, that they make one phone call to the shelter …

in the “event” … to tell them that Tank could be put up for adoption.

Luckily, my CO is a dog-guy, too, and he knew where my platoon

was headed. He said he’d do it personally. And if you’re reading this, then he made good on his word.

Tank has been my family for the last six years, almost as long

as the Army has been my family. And now I hope and pray that

you make him part of your family, too, and that he will adjust

and come to love you the same way he loved me.

If I have to give up Tank to keep those terrible people from coming

to the US I am glad to have done so. He is my example of service and

of love. I hope I honored him by my service to my country and comrades.

All right, that’s enough. I deploy this evening and have to drop this letter

off at the shelter. Maybe I’ll peek in on him and see if he finally got that third tennis ball in his mouth.

Good luck with Tank. Give him a good home, and give him an extra kiss goodnight – every night – from me.

Thank you,

Paul Mallory


I folded the letter and slipped it back in the envelope. Sure,

I had heard of Paul Mallory, everyone in town knew him,

even new people like me. Local kid, killed in Iraq a few

months ago and posthumously earning the Silver Star

when he gave his life to save three buddies.

Flags had been at half-mast all summer.


I leaned forward in my chair and rested my

elbows on my knees, staring at the dog.

“Hey, Tank,” I said quietly.

The dog’s head whipped up, his ears

cocked and his eyes bright.


“C’mere boy.”

He was instantly on his feet, his nails clicking on the hardwood floor.

He sat in front of me, his head tilted, searching for the name

he hadn’t heard in months. “Tank,” I whispered.

His tail swished.

I kept whispering his name, over and over, and each time,

his ears lowered, his eyes softened, and his posture relaxed

as a wave of contentment just seemed to flood him. I stroked

his ears, rubbed his shoulders, buried my face into

his scruff and hugged him.

“It’s me now, Tank, just you and me. Your old pal gave you to me.”

Tank reached up and licked my cheek.

“So whatdaya say we play some ball?”

His ears perked again.

“Yeah? Ball? You like that? Ball?”

Tank tore from my hands and disappeared into the next room.

And when he came back, he had three tennis balls in his mouth.


“The true soldier fights not because he hates what is in

front of him, but because he loves what is behind him.”
—G. K. Chesterton

Take a Paws…and click here


If dogs are really not your thing go shopping at this market that is more art than veggies!

Have a doggone great day!

May I always be the person my dog thinks I am…

Thanks this week to Larry H. for this terrific dog compendium!



“We are all here on earth to help others.  What on earth the others are here for, I don’t know.”
~ W. H. Auden

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