The Dog Food Debate - Live to Eat or Eat to Live?

Recent news reports show a massive increase in the number of family pets that are dying prematurely due to tainted dog food.


Dogs are dying. Kidneys shrivelled and necrotized by the effects of sub-standard - if not downright poisonous - dogfood. Most people love their dogs. They are part of the family and children have grown up with them. Now they are dying - not the children that is, but the dogs. How to explain this to the little ones? Explain, that is, that Buster died because he ate. Now eat up or you'll get no desert.

The stuff we feed our dogs seems ghastly - but the vets sell it, so it must be good. The doctor said that broccoli is good for you, so eat up now. Vets get fat off the dog food - not by consuming it of course but by selling it to consumers - or at least to the owners of the consumers. Back to the dogs.

If the dogs were children - and many would say that they are, at least to them - the dog food companies would be arrested, arraigned, tried and sentenced. Vets would extoll meat and tripe, not the dry poison in bags and cans that until yesterday filled their waiting room shelves. Order would be restored, a price paid - by the dog food companies that is, not the lines of folk snapping up frozen meat and tripe, that is. That price would go up as demand rocketed. Vets would install freezers and ...........

Well, lets all eat to live, not live to eat. Us that is, not the dogs - or perhaps them too.

Is the Pope Connected?

I recently attended a Mass at St. Peter's Basillica in Rome and quite accidentally was seated near the front of the congregation, very close to the Pontiff who was celebrating the Mass.


I was within metres of him. But was I within any proximity to Him?

The question haunted me and continues to do so. I screwed up my eyes and focused on him intently - nothing irreverent, just intensity. Was He anywhere about? A glimpse, a whiff, a secret signal? Any connection between him and Him? A small, silver haired, good looking man, Benny. Nothing to dislike - on the contrary, a lovely sense of peace and serenity surrounded him. Acolytes attending on his every move, The Cardinals looking on. How many of them, I thought, wished they were he? Just a few more votes in the Sistine and I could have made it! But those thoughts had no place in this Place. I was in God Central, the home base of Catholicism, St Peter's tomb, the greatest church on earth, spiritual home to millions - (billions over the eons). Michelangelo hovered in the dome, Bernini polished his altar, centuries of Popes lay below, most recently "St." John Paul II.

But still I asked, "Is He here?" A terrifying, monumentally profound question - certainly for me. I thought of the many times I had seen images of John Paul II, old, beautiful, leaning on his crook, eyes closed, deep in contemplation or prayer. Now it was Benedict's turn. He too exuded profundity, connectedness. If he didn't have it, who did? How could I? Is the Pope connected? When he prays, seeks God's wisdom, intercedes on behalf of his flock of millions, does God answer? Do they talk? When Benny's alone in his private Vatican chapel, door closed, The Cardinals dispatched, the nuns gone off to bed, does God come to him and do they converse? Is it real? Does the Vicar of Christ connect with the Divine? Or is it like when I pray - when I try to connect with God? A dull and distant sense of hope that my supplications are not falling on deaf ears?

The Faithful watched him, on their knees, cocooned in della Porta's magnificent nave. They loved him, trusted him, revered him, have ...... faith. Faith. There is it, that magic word, Faith. Faith that my conversations with God are indeed not just disappearing into the ether. Faith that He, the Lamb of God, somehow, somewhere, hears my trivial bleating. And, having heard, listens and then, wondrously, reacts! The Creator of All Things, the most Divine and powerful entity ever, reacting to me!? Perhaps to Benny, even to The Cardinals. But to me?

I watched, intently, soaking up the image of Benny and The Cardinals (a good name for a band, I thought - but, again, no place for such thoughts in This Place). It felt good, right, proper and comforting. No secret signal, no glimpse - but I think, I'm sure I caught the slightest, transcient whiff of Him - passing by.

Thank God.