A wonderful grace…
“Even the dogs eat the leavings from their master’s table.”
Yesterday at adoration I imagined myself as our Lord’s dog… I was quite content with that. Dogs are dumb, but they are good companions.
I desired to sneak into the praetorium and draw near to him - when he was most alone. Just to keep him company, and to lick his wounds, since he is now the beggar Lazarus, seated outside the rich man’s house.
I desired to follow him along the last steps of his pilgrimage, weaving in and out of the crowd, and no one would molest me because I looked ferocious. Though I couldn’t alleviate his sufferings, I could bark whenever they goaded him and beat him. It seemed to me my growling and barking might interrupt their torture. Each time that he fell, I moved over to him quickly, stealthily, on my haunches, and once again licked the blood, sweat, tears, and spittle from his eyes - until I was kicked away by the soldiers.
I howled when he was raised upon the cross and paced back and forth until he died, and then I whimpered as he was deposited, like a little baby upon his mother’s lap… Then I followed the funeral procession to the place of burial, brushing up against his mother to let her know I was there.
Later, after everyone left, I kept vigil outside the tomb, just like I do now… outside the tabernacle.
Dogs are content just to be near their master.
