I had a magnificent Irish Wolfhound. His name was Morgan. He died a few months ago. I really miss him. He was such good company. 

I used to cook for him. Sounds silly. But to me he was worth it. When the local store had a sale on chickens -- I'd buy a few and keep them in the freezer. I'd boil one and of course strip the meat from the bones. One night he was sitting next to me in the kitchen. He was watching my every move with fixed intensity. It came to me that he was saying to himself, "Hey Pop, how come you're throwing those bones away! You know how much I love bones. Please let me have 'em." 

There was no way in the world that I could explain to him that chicken bones splinter. One might stick through his intestines and cause peritonitis. Those chicken bones might kill him! 

How many times I have stormed Heaven for something I considered terribly important. But my request went unanswered, despite my most ardent prayers. Later it would occur to me, "Maybe I was praying for chicken bones!"

Fr. Bob 

Fr. Robert McQueeney, 1919 - 2002
Spiritual Director
The Padre Pio Foundation of America, 1982-2002