Plans to publish a collection of short stories entitled STORIES ABOUT GOD (What if God WAS One of Us?) proceeds apace.  One story from the book:

GOd’s dOG

God’s Dog got loose one day. He’d been chained up too long, and had nearly starved to death, so he was in a pretty rotten mood, and he went out and bit the first person he saw.

People were shocked! He was a divine dog, but he was still an animal, and had all his animal instincts. He merely nipped at some people, but others he chomped on. He sunk his teeth into them, and shook them mercilessly. He went straight for the jugular, and ripped their heads off.

Word spread quickly, and when God’s Dog came up and started sniffing crotches, people got very nervous.

The dogcatchers were alerted, and though a few of them caught glimpses of him, none of them caught him. He was a divine dog on a mission, and it seemed as if human flesh was not long for this world.

God could have fed his dog and kept him from getting so hungry, people reasoned, but they weren’t sure, because they didn’t know God personally, and couldn’t ask Him. God could have let him out more so as to keep him from being so mean, they figured, but that was just speculation. It made sense though, and was all they had, so they started making up all kinds of beliefs and doctrines to explain what God's Dog was doing.

"God’s Dog ran away." one version went. "He was finicky, and didn’t like the brand of dog chow God was feeding him, and went off in search of variety."

"God’s Dog was young and rebellious, and would not accept God’s discipline," another version went, "so God kicked him out".

One version identified God as the abusive one, and blamed Him for locking His dog up and starving him, but people were reluctant to believe that. If it was true, it undermined your faith in God, and if it wasn’t true, you were putting yourself in danger of divine disapproval.

Some people even put forward the story that God had trained His dog to attack, and let him loose as an executioner of justice in the world. Whether you were a preacher or a parent, though, there were stories to scare, and stories to comfort, and you used whichever ones fit your purpose.

While the debate raged on about the possible origins of the situation, and was far, far from resolved for a long, long time, there was one thing both debaters and non-debaters could agree upon: God’s Dog was vicious.

He had an axe to grind, and a chip on each of his four shoulders. He couldn’t be bribed with doggy treats, in fact offering him some seemed to make him even angrier. He’d knock them out of your hand, and munch on you all the more violently. He wanted his pound of flesh, and then a few more, too. And though he made a meal of many, it didn’t sate his appetite. The more he ate, the hungrier and angrier he got.

People turned to other, non-religious ‘experts’, who also offered their opinions as if they were fact:

"God’s Dog is an adult dog of an alcoholic," said one, "acting out his passive-aggressive fantasies, taking out his displaced anger against God, his dysfunctional parent, on innocent people, and endlessly re-enacting his childhood trauma."

"God’s Dog has a serious addiction to human flesh," said another, "and should be enrolled in Carnivores Anonymous, where he can seek help, admit his faults, make reparations to the loved ones of those he ate, turn himself back over to God, and give up his rabid, uncontrollable lust for meat."

"If God’s Dog is captured, I will welcome him to my center, and give him free counseling, acupuncture, massage and hypnotherapy," said a third.

But God’s Dog wasn’t captured. He continued to eat people. He wasn’t particularly discriminate, either. He ate children and old people, who were obviously easy prey, along with slackers, couch potatoes and the handicapped, but he ran down athletic he-men and amazons too.

He ate smokers, beer-guzzlers, ice-cream addicts and fried food eaters with as much gusto as he did vegans, vegetarians, and raw-foodists. He ate the skinny and scrawny as well as the obese. He ate supermodels and hookers, movie stars and bag ladies alike, and it didn’t look like he was going to stop anytime soon.

"How ‘bout that God’s Dog?" Jay Leno joked, "He’s not picky, is he?" "He’s like mah husband!" one of Jay’s guests replied, "He’ll eat anything!"

Think-tanks and task-forces and special investigatory committees were put on the case, at great expense. They published thick pamphlets full of thick langauge, which they explained thick-tonguedly before Congress and thick-headed TV viewers sitting at home on thickly cushioned sofas.

Some pretended the findings were enlightening, but those with common sense clicked their tongues, shook their heads, and muttered in disgust. Rotary clubs and The Red Cross pitched in with relief efforts to attend to the victims of God’s Dog’s dog attacks, and the president finally declared it a national disaster.

People set out all kinds of gourmet dogfood in hopes of appeasing God’s Dog’s wrath. Some even stopped eating meat, hoping that the absence of ‘smell of carne’ might keep God’s Dog from them. It didn’t. God’s Dog kept eating and eating. He was one of those dogs who could eat anything he wanted, and not gain a pound, too. People were so jealous.

Spiritual people of indeterminate stripe offered their wisdom. Fear was inciting God’s Dog, they claimed, and the solution was to love him. God’s Dog ate them, too. God’s Dog wasn’t open to love. He had to have his own angry way.

Then, as suddenly as it had started, it stopped. People got up one day, and there were no screams, no rending of flesh, nobody running down the street in terror, their clothes flying behind them in bloody rags, no news reports, guns going off, men yelling, domestic insurgency-suppression vehicles squealing around corners, firing rocket-launchers . . .

Like an overfull cloud that had opened up and drenched everything and everybody for a few hours, then suddenly ceased, God’s Dog’s reign of terror had apparently come to a halt. People were nervous, hesitant and hopeful, and as they went about their business, driving to work in their recently acquired armor-plated cars and kevlar suits, they cautiously breathed a sigh of relief, wondering if it was really over.

The black helicopters circled serenely, and a calm settled in. People started theorizing as to what happened to God’s Dog. Did God finally notice he was gone, and come get him? Had he gotten his fill of nibbles and bits? Or was he just hiding, waiting to leap out again like those monsters and villains at the end of movies?

The ‘authorities’ cautioned people to not let their guard down, started pushing Patriot Act III, and engineered a bill to boost funding to the office of Homeland Security.

Callers on daytime radio shows started demanding apologies from God. The main response they got was from other people at home on thick cushions, who told them "shut up!"

No one saw God’s Dog for a while, but people had the eerie sense that he was around somewhere, lurking just beyond the range of normal vision. When you walked down certain neighborhoods, you always noticed those signs that had become so popular:

"Beware of God’s Dog".

CP '09