Invocation to Saint Joan of Arc

   
   "Invocation to Saint Joan of Arc"
   
   Johnny Carson might say:  "Weird and wild stuff."  But the tradition of the Universal Church will not fade with a whimper into the night, not as long as the mystical knights of Almighty God ride alongside us.  Here's an invocation to Saint Joan of Arc--her Feast Day, May 30th.

   "Most extraordinary soldier, you insistently proclaim "Let God be served first!"  You began by winning many victories and received the plaudits of princes, but then you were given to the enemy and cruelly put to death.  Instill in us the desire to serve God first and perform our earthly tasks with that idea ever in our minds.  Amen."  

Teddy Roosevelt and Pete

   
   "Teddy Roosevelt and Pete"
  
   These tales are antiquated and ambiguous, as is Pete himself.
   Pete was one of Roosevelt's many dogs, for Teddy liked dogs.  If a man doesn't like animals, especially man's best friend, possibly he doesn't like people either.  Don't murderers usually get their start by slaughtering animals?
   Pete was maybe a Bull Terrier.  Too, he tore the pants off of a visiting French Ambassador at the White House.  And supposedly attacked two cops--they might've deserved it.
   Anyway, lore suggests Pete was transported to parts unknown for terrorizing the White House from 1905 to 1908.  So goes the myth and reality of it all.  

Guns n´Roses - 14 years (lyrics)

Flash: The Wiry Whippet (5)

   
   "Flash:  The Wiry Whippet (5)"
   
   Like a thief in the night, the prankster adolescents approached, carrying toilet paper, eggs, and even shaving cream--oh my, what was that for--were they gonna try and shave Henry's mustache off?  No, Henry loved his handlebar mustache!
   That ignited me to defense--the only way to play.  And with the Moon as my light, and my sniffer superior with insight, I sprinted at the kids, Scooper following, but only as a goofy, fun-loving Lab would, and the kids took off.  That simple.  Stand up with your intrinsic traits; next, the cradle will rock, and the baby sleeps, for we must muster ourselves, though never monstrous, unless of course we're monsters.
   Scooper was still chasing the kids, yelling at their retreat:  "Play with me!  Play with me!"
   Even love can chase away things.  
   So, I took my paw pads and sauntered back inside the house, sitting next to my Master, Henry--on this spooky Halloween night.  He continued to hand out candy to nicer children, always with a smile, and me at his side.  Some might say it was a pathetic life.  But what they don't know was:  I loved Henry, and would lay down my life for him.  Do you have anybody that would do that for you?  Or would they lock you away from grace and favor?
   Oh well, Scooper came back, all muddy, carrying a stick he found on the road.  It's how life goes, sometimes.   

Big Trouble in Little China - Elevator Scene

Flash: The Wiry Whippet (4)

   
   "Flash:  The Wiry Whippet (4)"
   
   I would not be guilty of apostasy concerning my Master, Henry; however, from time to time--I have strayed away from him, in the dashing direction of a running rabbit on the farmhouse's property; still, I would not abandon Henry's need for solid solace, the poor widower.  A lonely old man, hitting the hard stuff nightly to engage a more dulled nocturnal state of slumber.
   Why do humans drink?  To make their hearts happy?  To speak the truth?  To erase the resonating effects of bullies absent from their modern lives yet still haunting their mortified souls?  To be cool and cowboy-like, or think themselves so?  To face their reflection?  
   Henry dropped a beer on the hardwood floors one time--I licked it up and felt better; still, there is nothing like the taste of bacon.  Hey, it's not what goes into your mouth that makes you unclean, but what comes out of your heart.
   So, I found Scooper.  Told him what old Cooter had told me.  Kids wanted to pull a Halloween prank on our Master.  As a Lab-Mix, Scooper was all too goofy about it, saying:  "Golly, are we gonna make new friends with these people?"
   I was like:  "No, this is not play.  You don't play with vandals.  Poor Henry would have to clean up all the toilet paper in the trees; plus, wash the egg stains off his old truck and the house."
   Scooper, continually optimistic about making new friends didn't see my logic, stating:  "But one of them might be nice.  A kid conned into the prank, and we could make a new pal."
   I dropped my Whippet head, royally wondering how Labs were just so darn friendly.  Oh well, I guess that's why they make great service dogs--it takes all kinds, as the humans say.  

Flash: The Wiry Whippet (3)

   
   "Flash:  The Wiry Whippet (3)"
   
   Basset Hounds provide no false truths; specifically, it is in their truck-driving DNA to admit the facts--just the facts ma'am.  But people are controlled by Principalities and such--so there is always an esoteric part of the story, dismissed as pseudo-science by the mainstream media.
   Mental Illness versus Diabolical Possession--two facts:  Someone never exposed to a certain foreign language, I mean--never exposed!  Yet they cuss you out fluently with profane vulgarities in an unknown foreign language; next, if someone knows something about you (your secret) that you never verbally, or by writing admitted, and that person knows your mind-locked secret, yup.
   Still, I trusted Cooter, the Basset Hound, for we trust who we have to; plus, I loved the sweet Saint Roch.  Too, I loved my Master, Henry.  So what if kids were gonna roll and egg the house.  But I was just a dog.  Had to bite their ankles or something canine-like.  Wasn't it my duty to not let my Master be bullied?