Facebook chain sermons about animal love

Don’t get me wrong, I understand that a lot of folks find themselves deeply moved by some of these–and sometimes they even affect me.  Today I had a good rejoinder for one and was feeling self-promoting enough to share it, with the kind permission of Lisa, who gets props for being a great sport about it.  It accompanied a cartoon picture of a couple in bed, each perched on an edge, with several animals hogging the middle:


  • I could walk around the yard barefoot in safety
  • My house could be carpeted instead of tiled and laminated
  • All flat surfaces, clothing, furniture and cars would be free of hair
  • When the doorbell rings, it wouldn’t sound like a kennel
  • When the doorbell rings, I could get to the door without wading through fuzzy bodies who got there before me
  • I could sit on the couch and bed the way I wanted without taking into consideration how much space several fur bodies would need to get comfortable.
  • I would have money and no guilt to go on a real vacation.
  • I would not be on a first-name basis with 6 veterinarians, as I put their yet unborn grandkids through college.
  • The most used words in my vocabulary would not be: out, sit, down, come, no, stay and leave it ALONE.
  • My house would not be cordoned off into zones with baby gates or barriers.
  • I would not talk ‘baby talk’. ‘Eat your din din’. ‘Yummy yummy for the tummy’…
  • My house would not look like a day care center, toys everywhere.
  • My pockets would not contain things like poop bags, treats and an extra leash.
  • I would no longer have to spell the words B-A-L-L, W-A-L-K, T-R-E-A-T, O-U-T, G-O, R-I-D-E, C-O-O-K-I-E.
  • I would not have as many leaves INSIDE my house as outside.
  • I would not look strangely at people who think having ONE dog/cat ties them down too much
  • I’d look forward to spring and the rainy season instead of dreading ‘mud’ season.
  • I would not have to answer the question ‘Why do you have so many animals?’ from people who will never have the joy in their lives of knowing they are loved unconditionally by someone as close to an ANGEL as they will ever get.”

How EMPTY my life would be!!!

[last known credit:  Wanda Jones]

I thought about it for a moment, then replied:

“Well, I’ll be able to go along with that the day an actual angel uses my basement as a celestial urinal, or lays a holy steamer next to my wife while she’s decorating our fake holiday tree, or throws up angel yack on my bedroom carpet causing naked me (coming in late and in the dark) to slip and fall on my bare ass in about six quarts of angel vomitus.”

No, I wasn’t making that up or exaggerating.  It happened about six years back.  We have a Labrador Retriever named Fabius.  I named him for Q. Fabius Maximus Verrocosus Cunctator, Dictator of Rome, for a number of reasons.  The chief one was that as a puppy (he was primarily ears and paws), Fabius would not come on his leash.  He delayed us frequently.  Fabius Maximus’ epithet ‘Cunctator’ means ‘the delayer’ or ‘the procrastinator,’ depending on whether you are admiring his tactics of wearing Hannibal down, or grousing that he doesn’t immediately win the war for Rome…’Fabian Tactics’ remain the term for this in military science to this day.  I finally had to drag him along until he got the idea, thus, ‘Fabius.’

Anyway, around 1:30 AM, I came in to go to bed, shucked my clothes in the pitch dark, and worked my way along the base of the bed with caution for the Thigh Hunters–the square bedpost capitals that seek out an author’s quadriceps if he is incautious in the dark, causing him to hiss a curse.  It did not occur to me that Fabius might have cut loose with a spectacular vomit on the carpet, nicely cooled down by now.  I stepped right in it, barefoot, slipped, and landed on my butt with a thud and a volley of pain-pumped swearing.  While I realize this is not what my lovely bride wants to wake her up at 1:30 AM, you try falling on your nalgas in dog puke at that hour (without advance warning, mind you) in silence.

Let me know how that went.

I didn’t take it out on Fabius.  While certainly one shouldn’t, I still think I deserve at least a minor commendation ribbon for not losing it.

Feel free to share your funniest pet disaster in the comments.


6 thoughts on “Facebook chain sermons about animal love”

  1. Great Story! I had an English Labrador named Maximus who got sick and had to be put to sleep earlier this year. I miss my boy. 😦 Anyway, a couple of years ago we went on vacation and left Maximus at home with my son. Max was so mad that we left without him that he went into our bedroom and chewed up our $350 temperpedic mattress pad. The funny thing about it was he dug it out of the bedding, unzipped the cover and only destroyed the pad piece. I was soooo furious with him, but realized that he was making a very personal statement about being left at home that I almost had to laugh at it. I miss that mattress pad, but I miss my baby boy even more.


  2. Heh, Lisa, that was one focused dog. Evidently dogs sometimes act out if they can get away with it. Sorry for your loss! Thanks again for letting me jack your wall post and make it into this.


  3. I had a Basset named Satchel who would eat anything, and I am not exaggerating when I say anything. He would eat unhusked walnuts that fell in the backyard and I even caught him swallowing small rocks in the back yard one day.
    One day while I was at work, Satchel figured out how to open a lower kitchen cabinet, including out smarting the ‘baby latch’ on the inside of the door. That was where I kept his dog treats, including cans of vienna sausage and sardines. On the upper shelf, in the back, I kept extra baking supplies like 5 lb bags of sugar and flour, unsweetened cocoa, chips, baking bars, cake mixes, jell-o, you name it, it was in there.
    I’m sure I don’t have to even explain what my entire house looked like when I got home from work. Sugar, flour, powdered jell-o, wrappers, aluminum cans that had been chewed apart and the contents gone. All I could do was shake my head and clean it up, which took about two hours.
    I called the vet and told him what had happened and he said just to keep an eye on him, plenty of water, no food for at least 24 hours. It was a good thing it was late spring because he was consigned to the yard for that 24 hours. I had a 96 lb Basset on a sugar high and it lasted almost two days. Needless to say, the kitchen was rearranged that night.
    My dear Satchel has been over the Rainbow Bridge two years now and of all my Bassets, all the dogs I’ve ever had, he was the biggest clown that ever owned me. He gave me the most angry fits and the most pure joy of any of them.


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