Dogs and Dust

By the sweat of your brow you will eat your food until you return to the ground, since from it you were taken; for dust you are and to dust you will return.” Genesis 3:19 

          “Cats verses Dogs; which is best?” aired on the BBC over two nights, 4^th and 11^th February.  Using science and experiments, Chris Packham and Liz Bonnin battled it out to determine which animal is man’s best friend.  In fairness, the results showed the strengths of each animal in terms of trainability, endurance performance, agility, companionability.  

          One of the tests performed by Chris Packham involved a dog tracking him (Chris) through London’s streets with thousands of other distractions.  The dog, Boris, and his handler, Steve Nelson, work for the Bolton Mountain Rescue unit near Manchester.  Of course, Boris made short work of finding Chris.

          After smelling a pillow case and a tee-shirt belonging to Chris, Boris avoided diversions and distractions to find the coffee shop where Chris was waiting.  It had taken only ten minutes.

          Steve explained the science behind Boris being able to track so successfully.  With 150 million scent receptors in his nose, Boris is able to distinguish Chris’s unique scent.  Microscopic bacteria works on the dead skin cells that come off of the body to create a unique scent.  Those skin cells are out in the environment, blowing as fine dust.

          The other day I went to see Amy.  She lives alone and doesn’t go out much.  She was surprised by the amount of dust she vacuumed up in her flat.  All I could think of was, it’s the dead skin our bodies have sloughed off.

          I often lie in bed in the mornings, slowing waking up and pondering life.  This morning I remembered the way we create scent and dust.  The scripture above came to mind—we shall return to dust.  

 Then I had this wow moment.  It isn’t only when we are dead and buried (or are cremated) that we transform into dust.   We are returning to dust, even though we are alive.  Every time we wash our face and/or hands, we are washing off the dead skin that becomes dust.  When we rub our bodies with our clothing, we are removing the particles of dead cells that become the dust on our furniture.   

In his first letter to the Corinthians, Paul says that he dies daily.  I had focused on the idea that Paul was dying to himself, resisting his selfish nature.   This in indeed a true interpretation.   However, another facet of understanding has presented itself;  I have learned that our bodies are always shedding dead skin cells, even when we can’t see them.  It reminds me that yes, we are dying every day.  

The minute details of our lives can fascinate us when we stop and think of how intimately God is involved in the details.

Serving Jesus, Author of our faith,

“Lady Helene”

It's a Maisy Day

Modeling the "Over the Shoulder" look.

     Today seemed like a good day to set the camera to film Maisy.  Sunlight provided some brightness in my office, even thought it was a bit overcast today.  
     
     I made three short films.  But I'm only posting one here.  All three of them are on Youtube.com

     When Maisy likes something and can't wait for another piece of it, she will flicker her tongue.  It always makes me laugh.  I must apologise for the film starting off centre, but what I really wanted to record (her flicker) is exactly positioned where it should be and is very clear.  I hope this will bring a smile to you face.  Just click on the link below.  

Maisy loving her treats! 

Serving Jesus, Author of our faith,
"Lady Helene"

Maisy Stories

      Puppy Maisy is almost 10 months old—she will be on the 8^th of April.  She is such a sweet, funny, clever puppy.  I’ve missed so many opportunities to share funny stories on this blog. 

                However, I am going to share some now, especially since I have missed blogging. 

                The first day Maisy came to live with us, I laid down on the couch and put her on top of me.  She whined a bit and then settled down.   “Couch time” is part of our relationship, which includes me changing into my pyjamas, stretching out on the couch and letting her doze off whilst I watch TV.  About 10.00 pm we usually go to bed.  Bed for Maisy is sleeping in her carrier kennel, which sits next to our bed.

Story One

On Saturday, 28^th February, I had intended to attend the church’s social evening of Bingo & Beetle Drive at St. Mary’s Centre.  I’m sure it would have been fun.  But, as the month of March was the next day, I was determined to work on the next issue of “The Mission Bell”. 

That was truly my intention.  I had pulled up the document, had the internet open for trawling through information on the core charities for which I was planning to glean prayer requests and was positioned myself to start writing. 

Of course!  The phone rings.  It was my sister, and we’d not chatted for a few days.  Playing solitaire on my laptop, while Sissy and I exchanged “fur-baby” stories, the minutes sped by and before we knew it, over an hour had flown by.  Reluctantly we said our good-byes.

Maisy needed walking, as it was going on over two hours since our last foray into the starlit night.  She sniffed around, got told to “leave it and come” over something she’d found on the ground and finally completed her toilet.  I was glad to come back in.

My mind was beyond grappling with research for “The Mission Bell”.  Besides, I’d promised “Maverick” that I would sew the end of his zip into his work coat.  It was only a couple of inches, and no big effort in terms of complication.  But it took me about half-an-hour.   

The thread had just been cut from the machine and I drew the coat off of the worktop.  Just then Maisy came back into my office/studio.  She whined, and I looked down at my long-haired puppy.

“What?”  I ask.  I looked at the clock.  10:00 pm!  “Is it bedtime?”

“BWOAF!”  Brown eyes stared earnestly up at me.

“You want me to go change into my ‘jammies’, and go lay on the couch,  so you can sleep on top of me?”  I ask her.

“Arff!  Yap! Yap!  Arrfff. Ruff!  Ruff,ruff ruff." A 30 second instruction in puppy replied to my question, which loosely translated means—“Don’t just sit there!  Get on with it!”  What could be done but to comply?!

Story Two

                During “Maverick’s” first marriage   his ex-wife and children were always bringing home pets—anything from dogs, cats, even a flea-infested hedgehog, to turtles and fish.  This was done without consulting him.  So, when I decided to marry “Maverick”, I determined that I would not get a dog unless we were in agreement.

                Husband had reasons he didn’t want a pet:

• Pets cost money—food, vet bills, medicines if required. 
• You can’t take pets on holiday.  He was not going to have where he took his holiday and when he could take his holidays based upon if we could take the animal.  And it was too expensive to put them in a boarding kennel.
• They would make a mess in the house, dog hair everywhere—and it would smell.
• Barking dogs were a major dislike for “Maverick”.

On the occasions I went to Florida to see my sister, I was lavished with love from her cats, but especially her dogs, first Honey, and then Hannah.  Both of them thought they were my dogs when I was there.  I talked about them lots when I came home. 

                About five years ago there was a moment when John’s heart softened towards the idea of me having a dog.  I had been home from Florida for about two days.  We were sitting at the dining table, watching television while eating our lunch.  An advert for Blue Cross Animal Charity came on the television.   It showed a dog being abandoned by his owner.  Well, missing my sister’s dog,  and empathising with the dog in the advert, I burst into tears.  Just couldn’t help it!  “Maverick” looked at me and said, “Okay, I can see that having a dog would mean a lot to you.  But first we have to get things in order.” 

                So, I began to plan.  This included giving him answers for his objections. 

• Cost:  If you buy pet insurance, you can get most of the medical costs reimbursed.  And little dogs don’t eat that much.  I’m willing to give up a small luxury to afford to buy food.
• Holiday:  We have four children who love animals.  I’m sure we could find people who would be willing to pet-sit for a week or two.  I know “Chantilly” and her family would.  There are also some places that allow you to take your dogs.
• Dog hair everywhere:  If you get a dog that doesn’t shed, it won’t make a mess.  Yorkshire terriers, Maltese Terriers, poodles, Shih Tzus, to name a few.  I knew I wanted a Yorkie,  because they are small. 
• Barking dogs—or yappy dogs—can be trained not to bark.  Now this can be a tall order, as little dogs are known to have big attitudes, and are vocal about it.  But, if persistent, barking can be curbed.

 Circumstances finally aligned, and last July, while here on vacation, Sissy and I found Maisy.  Maisy come home on 8^th August at exactly eight weeks old.

All I just shared isn’t too funny.  But you have to understand the amount of resistance I had to overcome.  Since Maisy has joined our home, things have changed in “Maverick’s” mind.

For example,  each night I have to make sure that I let “Maverick” say good-night to Maisy.

 When we first got her, I started saying to Maisy, “Daddy’s going to work; Daddy’s home;” etc.  His response was, “I’m not Daddy to a dog.  I’m the Guv’ner. “

 But as the weeks went on, she began to charm him.  It was her bright eyes, wagging tail, wiggling excessively when he came home that warmed his heart.  Now, it isn’t uncommon to hear “Maverick” say, “Maisy, come to Pa.”

Yesterday, (3^rd April), Maisy got knocked down by a middle-sized dog, and nipped.  The other dog was jealous of his master giving Maisy a little scratch on the head.  After charging at Maisy, knocking her over, giving her a nip, he began barking and trying to get between the man and Maisy and barking with loud frustration.  Maisy immediately headed for me, and I quickly picked her up.  She was shaking, and making an anxious barking reply.  The man and I apologised to each other, and we walked away.  Maisy recovered and she soon resumed her walk.

When I told “Maverick”, he immediately picked Maisy up, crooning, “Those other dogs can’t hurt My Maisy.  You’re okay now, My Maisy.” 

I couldn’t help but think, “Who said he didn’t want a dog?”

By the way,  did I mention that “Maverick” will sometimes let her sit on his lap while he eats a meal? 

Story Three

Maisy is primarily a “Mummy’s Girl”.  She does run to see “Maverick” when he comes home.  She’ll sit on his lap while he is on the couch.  But, a majority of the time, she wants to be with me. 

Because she is a “Mummy’s Girl”, she tends to get a little jealous when “Maverick” and I are sharing affection.  It isn’t uncommon for her to whine when “Maverick” and I stand hugging or share a kiss. 

Last night (3^rd April), John and I were standing in his office, cuddling.  The next thing we hear behind us is Maisy’s squeak toy.  Maisy had learned that by holding her favourite white plush toy by the head, it would squeak when she bit down.  Well, last night she was chewing that toy, squeaking it for all it was worth.  She was not going to let us leave her out of a cuddle-fest.  "Maverick" and I laughed, and went to the lounge, where she joined us on the couch.

I know this is a long post.  But I wanted to share some of these moments when this furry little critter had brought a smile to our face and joy to our heart.

Serving Jesus, Author of our faith,

"Lady Helene"