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Switch to Forum Live View True Story: The Dog on Staten Island
7 years ago  ::  Jun 08, 2011 - 12:44PM #1
Posts: 19
This is a a true story taken from one of my books:

The Dog on Staten Island

Several  times a year I would stay with friends on Staten Island, sometimes for  weeks at a stretch. They lived in St. George, which is near the ferry.  And on the way from the ferry to their house I passed a grocery store  guarded by a large tan brutish dog on a chain – whose aura, by the way,  was terrible. The dog was chained outside the store in all weather, and  the owner mentioned that at night the dog was locked in the basement.  Not a great life for a dog, or any other being for that matter.

The dog growled if you came anywhere near him, and was in general otherwise non-responsive and churlish.

In  time, as I learned about the spiritual yearnings and the spiritual  development of animals, I decided that this dog needed spiritual  training – for the sake of his own soul, but also for the souls of those  around him, including his master.

Following a low, short growl  from my student-to-be, I stood before him and inwardly told him of Jesus  and Mary and the saints. I told him that if he were a good doggie, one  day he would go to a beautiful realm filled with love, where there were  gardens and beautiful, kind, people and saints and dog biscuits and  everything else he could ever want – and I sent him a mental image of  such a place, bathed in Sunshine and Peace.

He pretended that he  was annoyed and not listening, but I could see that he was listening,  and that he was even thinking. I mentally asked St. Francis to come and  speak with the dog, and to watch over him in general. I told the dog to  pray everyday: i.e. to tell Christ and Mary that he loved them and that  he wanted to be a good doggie.

Since the grocery store was only a  block away, and on the main street, I saw him many times that visit. I  repeated my lecture every time I saw him, and his aura did seem somewhat  improved by the time I left Staten Island.

I returned to Staten  Island a few months after. I had actually forgotten about the unhappy  guard dog, but as I turned the corner to the main street – the dog was  waiting for me, his head turned in my direction, as though he knew I was  coming. Even though he was chained in front of the grocery store  halfway down the block, I saw him instantly. I saw him instantly because  his aura was so filled with Light that he shone. Out of all the people  and strollers and stores and buses and cars and a plethora of other  perceptions – my attention was riveted on the dog's Light. The dog began  to pray as I walked towards him, and I say this because of his posture  and also because his aura brightened further.

To see such a  change in a being, in such a short time, was remarkable, and I told him  so. He acted a bit shy with me – although he still maintained his guard  dog persona, which was appropriate. In short, he was a changed dog. I  saw him almost every day of my visit, and encouraged him to continue his  practices when I left Staten Island.

A few months later, back in  Ithaca, late one night (and I'm embarrassed to say that I was watching  Star Trek on television), suddenly, as sometimes happens, a little movie  started playing in my head. I closed my eyes to better see, and there  were dogs, hundreds of dogs, all sizes and shapes, colors and breeds,  sitting in a single line, one behind the other, it seemed for miles – as  far as one could see to the horizon. They were all well behaved, and  seemed happy and expectant, a little excited, yet sitting quietly in  that long, very long, orderly row. Then, as though the camera taping the  show zoomed in for a close-up, suddenly I was standing over the tan dog  from Staten Island. There was no mistake about it, it was him.  Wonderingly, I turned in the other direction, to see where all these  dogs were facing, where the line began.

There were only a few  dogs ahead of the dog from Staten Island – and at the head of the line  stood Christ. Other dogs were playing and running in a beautiful  countryside nearby. Then the inner movie dissolved.

I didn't know what the clairvoyant movie meant.

Six  months or so later I returned to my friends on Staten Island. As I came  to the corner, I expected the Staten Island dog to turn his head my  way, and greet me with his prayers as he had done on my last visit. He  did not, in fact he wasn't there.

I went inside the cluttered  grocery and found the owner. "Where's your doggie?" I asked. Of course,  no one in the world, I'm sure, had ever called his guard dog a doggie  before. He looked a little puzzled and then offhandedly said "Oh, the  dog – he died about six months ago," and then he turned and talked  loudly with a customer.

About six months ago was when I had  watched the clairvoyant vision. And even as I write this, so many years  later, I am filled with such love for the dog on Staten Island who  accomplished so much so quickly – a poor guard dog who freed himself  from his difficult life and gained a beautiful realm where Christ  Himself would come.

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