THE TEACHING OF DOG SCRAPS

Photo by Leeann Warner

Could you get going already? It’s time for my walk.

You know, Stan, your problem is that all you think about is food and walks.

That’s a problem?

Just take a look at your daily schedule, Stan:

6:00-7:00 am            Get antsy for breakfast.

7:00                             Eat breakfast.

9:00-10:00                  Get antsy for Bernie to have breakfast

10:00                            Lick Bernie’s breakfast bowl.

10:00-11:00                  Get antsy to go for a walk.

11:00                              Go for a walk.

12:00 pm:                     Get post walk treat, including Greenies on Tuesdays and                                          Fridays.

12:00-1:00                    Get antsy for Bernie to have lunch.

1:00                                Lick Bernie’s lunch plate.

2:30-3:30                       Get antsy for your supper.

3:30                                Supper

4:30-5:30                       Get antsy for Bernie and Eve to have dinner.

5:30-6:00                        Drive Eve crazy while she cooks dinner.

6:30                                 Lick dinner bowls.

OMG, I had no idea I worked so hard! Now that’s what I call a busy schedule.

It’s all about you either walking or eating, Stanley, nothing else. It’s the most self-centered, deluded schedule I’ve ever seen. Life is not all about you, Stan. You’ve lived in a Buddhist home for over 13 years, don’t you know by now that everything is connected to everything else?

Of course I know that. The world appears each time I lick the remains of Bernie’s chicken soup.

I’m glad to hear that, Stanley.

When I lick Bernie’s chicken soup bowl I think of chicken, and how instead I wish it was hamburger. Then I think about bread and vegetables.

How’s that, Stan?

I think about how Bernie doesn’t like hamburger buns but I do, and how he likes catsup and I don’t. Then I think about the past.

What about the past, Stanley?

I think about how I wish I knew Bernie when he was younger, when he ate more. Then I think about everything that comes out of the earth.

Like what, Stanley?

I think about how good it is Bernie can’t eat salad anymore. Then I think about illness and change.

What illness and change, Stan?

I think of how generous Bernie’s become since his stroke, leaving me more on the plate than ever before. And I think of other human beings.

Like whom, Stanley?

Like you, and what a miser you are, eating everything that’s on your plate with no thoughts for me or anybody else. I think of the animals everywhere.

How nice, Stanley.

I think about how it’s the coldest it’s been in 20 years and how I’ll kill anybody that dares come inside. And I think about all the birds in the air, and how much nicer it would be if instead of eating sunflower seeds they ate hamburger.

You have compassion written all over you, Stanley.

I think of the world! Everything is connected to what’s left in Bernie’s soup bowl, nothing is left out. Nothing is excluded.

Who knew dogs scraps could be such a teaching!

Bernie knew. You—feh. Bernie’s a master!