Marking


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

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