My favorite part of The Sacred Diary of Adrian Plass, and I’m going from memory here, goes something like
Laid a fleece. If a midget in a Japanese admiral’s uniform arrives at the door at 9:04 precisely, I would know that God wanted me to sing carols.
Wish I’d had the presence of mind to lay just such a fleece this evening. Something like
If, at 8:56pm on Memorial Day while I’m watering the community garden, five very tall African American young men come up to me bearing a fat white puffed Pomeranian dog then I would know that God wanted me to……….
But I’m not struggling with any big decisions lately and didn’t have the foreknowledge to lay any such fleece. Drat it all.
So anyway, these nice young men unloaded this ridiculous dog on us tonight. He seems to be fairly well looked after and has a collar but no tags. If you’re in Binghamton on the southside could you ask your friends and neighbors if they know anything about him? We’ll be posting something on Craig’s List in the morning and calling around.
On the bright side, this thing (Matt is refusing to call it a dog) makes our own dog (a Toodle? or a Perrier? Which do you think sounds more stately?) look and sound like a veritable tower of manly dog strength. Sure he twirls, but in a menacing way. And sometimes he barks, but only to protect his spot on the bed. Plus, he sure is ugly, so that must count for something.
So, for those of us foolish enough to think that we can order and arrange our own lives, God says,
Here, take care of this Pomeranian.
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