by Jae Baeli

Created on: December 02, 2008

Who Let the Dogs In?

New to the neighborhood, I had been invited to a cookout. The ebb and flow of social bodies left me sitting in my host's livingroom on the sofa, with another woman at the other end. She was crocheting. It had begun to rain earlier, but now it was coming down pretty hard and my attention was drawn to the front window where I could see the wind whipping things around on the front deck. That's when I noticed the dog. He jumped up in a plastic chair on the porch and sat there shivering, pummeled by rain and wind. There were some small dogs in the house already, so I went to open the door and smooch him in. Another dog crowded in behind him, and then there was another dog and another and another-seven in all-stepping over the threshold, sliding, flinging water off their coats, nails clicking on the hardwood floor. A child greeted one in the hallway and they began to play, while one large Labrador paused at the front door to pee in a potted plant. I felt a little guilty, but I still thought they shouldn't be out in the thunderstorm.

I returned to the sofa, and the woman glanced over at me periodically, as she continued looping yarn. A little dog came over and jumped in my lap. I play with him and pet him and he's so happy, he curls onto my lap, rolls over onto his back and insists I rub his tummy. I oblige. The knitting woman at the other end of the sofa tells me that he's a mean dog and he doesn't let anyone touch him. She seems amazed. I just smile and continue to rub his tummy.

"What church do you go to?"

That one question is always enough to inspire dread and irritation in me. It happens so frequently these days, I wonder if it's printed on my forehead in some invisible ink only Soul Snatchers can see. That's what I call them. Soul Snatchers. They're everywhere. I am merely quarry for their game bag. The one they are filling up to gain passage through the pearly gates. "I don't go to church."

"Why not?"

"Organized religion is not for me."

She rested her knitting needles in her lap to focus on her newest conquest. "Have you accepted Jesus as your personal savior?"

"As a matter of fact, yes, I did that a long time ago-"

"Good-" She begins knitting again.

"But I changed my mind later." Why do I do this?

She stops knitting again. "What?"

"After I studied under a bible scholar and lived the Christian life for about ten years, I decided that I didn't believe Jesus was my savior. I believed he was a great teacher, but that I couldn't trust much of what was

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