J.C. and Chewie, sittin' in a tree...

P-R-A-Y-I-N-G.

So, Sunday morning, Chewie and i joined all the Christian D&D's (put your 12-sided dragon dice away: I'm talking about dogs and diabetics) for a solemn walk, a down-stay to the lord. Should that be capitalized? I think lower case l is good for me. I'll cap Love or Led Zeppelin or Lady, the good-but-not-great song by the (caps) Little River Band. Anyhoo.

(BTW -- yes i realize i'm a few days behind... but this is a busy process -- the busy-ness is kind of hidden and surprising, sneaks up like an errand-filled Saturday, when all of a sudden it's 5:15 and you haven't even worked out or finished your book or called your parents. I mean, it's non-stop in ways that make you unable to recount exactly where the time goes. For example, Jen and Shannon and I just video-trained about a third of the daily video training tasks we were supposed to shoot -- one third ! -- and it took 100 minutes. It's lengthy, time consuming, hilarious and maddening, at once).

So. We met in the lobby at ten Sunday morning (and by 'we' I mean the Christians, the Jew(s) and the canines). My alarm didn't go off and Chewie has taken on her handler's PhilHandlery sleep patterns -- up till two, scramble for a mid morning bone or tennis ball or bowl of kibble -- so we showered and put on our Sunday best. By which i mean, no flipflops.

I lifted Chewster into Shannon's car. Gwen was already whimpering. Maybe she feels like a sinner, too.

We all hung out on the grass parkway in front of the Bible Baptist Church for a goodly while. An accidental tinkle or even an icky poopoo in a big box store is one thing. But at Heaven's Gate? What Would Peter Do if a pooch pooped? It was too much to think about. I was speaking in tongues.

That's just what They need: a Jewish kid from a progressive city, with confetti still floating down from Mount Sinai after the same-sex marriage ruling, and the star of david tatted on his shoulder, marching in with a service dog spy to a Sunday morning service... listening to a sermon about 1st Kings 17-45.... and having said Jewish pooch, lay down an icky sticky, unrighteous Pew poo.

So we pottied for a good while.

Problem is -- and it is a problem -- that bathroom going, for Choo, is a spectator sport. She watches all the other dogs. There's Jai, squatting with perfect posture -- and there's Chew, transfixed, and looking at me as Jai saunters away to Jenn's great graces, -- looking at me as if to say, 'Not bad! That was perfect form! I'm gonna try that low-to-the-ground method myself one of these afternoons!'

So Chewy watched a dozen dogs squat, and then looked at me like, 'No encore?'

"Go potty cuckoo Chewchew!" I said. She looked around, saw that the stage lights were up and everyone was filing out of the room, and circled to squat.

Thank god, i thought.

We filed into church. Men in suits greeted us. We congregated in the lobby, were given some instructions by Michele, and filed in.

It was a large room -- the precise size of the temple I grew up going to -- and we sat in the three back rows, dogs 'under' the pew in front. I was on the end, next to Shannon -- god gave me the last seat in the house, i guess in case my Judaism, or Chewie's bladder, started leaking and we had to make a run for it. I only know her a week, but i know chu hates pitchforks.

I read the Bible as the Pastor -- a guy younger than me, I'm told -- read parts of it. I checked out my Bar Mitzvah portion -- Genesis 41 -- about Pharaoh's bad famine dreams, interpreted winningly by Donny Osmond -- I mean, Joseph -- who then prepares Egypt properly.

Genesis 41 is about preparation... problems and answers... effort and energy. It's about making what looks like a mountain into more of a molehill, by thinking first, and taking purposeful action.

It's about the consistent issues and problems one will encounter -- some you can view; some hidden behind a seemingly bountiful path -- and realizing that answers exist, and they're before your very eyes.

But your eyes must be open.

I sighed, thinking about this, pleased with myself, and no longer even a little bit afraid of very much. Ready for the small, i think i am i think i am, and ready for the large.

Just then, Chewy rolled over and was in the aisle of the pew in front. Luckily, no one was sitting there. I went to that pewfront and rolled her back. 'Stay!" i barked. All of the dogs looked, and some kids. Each D&D was there but one -- there was one rush-out. (Maybe someone did have an encore for Chewster.)

The sermon started and that's where I was lost.

I had questions:

Why is he yelling at me?

Does he not like us?

Is he serious?

What? Did he just shriek or squeak?.. or both?

Can you keep it down? Someone's trying to take a nap under the pew, capeche?

Why are you mad at me?

Are you voting for Obama?

Where's Mel Gibson's pew? I want to ask him about that love scene in 'Braveheart': Did you really kiss that French actress -- Sophie Marceau -- or was that a stage kiss? Dude! Can you tell me?

Can I go now?

There was some really loud loudness -- America is broken stuff, and JC can fix it -- and i respect the right to have such belief. But I was also sleepy, and felt badly when he was asking anyone who wanted to be saved to come up front and kept looking towards the D&D's -- whom he greeted several times, thanked us for coming. I did feel badly. Please! Someone be saved! So he stops yelling!

No one went. He claimed it's the first time in a good while that there were no saves. Well, I thought, maybe you should practice your manners instead of yelling at 150 people scattered about in jeans and polo shirts (which is mostly what was worn).

During the 'say hi to your neighbor' thing, none of the dog people left but me. 'Stay!' i told the converted reform pooch, and shook hands with some of the flock. Chewie watched me. Chewie went back to sleep.
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Below there's a few little tiny surreptitious video from Sunday morning. Chewy won't soon be at church again -- am not (yet?) dating a churchgoer -- so i thought i'd post it in this Baby Book.

Also... we have a new feature, by special request. It's called 'Song of the Post' -- and for this here version, the SOTP is "Jesus Is Just Alright" by The Doobie Brothers.

Good luck y'all!