>La Grande Observer | Union and Wallowa Counties' News Leader

Thank God for dogs. And friends.

I have a friend whom I call whenever I get really, really, really lonely. He’s extremely intelligent, charismatic and can talk about the wonders of God for what seems like an eternity.

The man, if he chose, could go on the spiritual guru circuit and attract millions of followers. He could talk the stains off a stained glass window.

His conversations hit on everything from faith to Forrest Gump — “Life is like a box of chocolates” — and it’s hard to get a word in straight or crooked. I mainly just sit back and enjoy the conversational ride.

But after an hour or so, I begin to look for the exit sign. That’s where the dogs come in. Having inherited four dogs from my late wife, I’ve discovered they have more value than just providing unconditional love and chasing off satellite TV salespeople and Jehovah’s witnesses.

I’ll say to my friend, when he has to take that very occasional breath before getting wound up again on Adam and Eve, the apostles, greed and subprime mortgages, the price of hard red winter wheat or whatever, “Hey, it’s been nice chatting, but I’ve got to feed the dogs.”

Even a spiritual guru running in philosophical overdrive has compassion for hungry dogs.

Reaching out to old friends is part of my grief plan. Such conversations help me to deal with last September’s loss of my 48-year-old wife to the ravages of type 1 diabetes and autoimmune inner ear disease. But I’m basically shy, an introvert, more a listener than a talker.

My friend fills the therapy bill. He talks. I listen.

I have yet to gather the courage to ask him if he knows why God made people with two ears and one mouth. Maybe some night I will. It’s so we remember to listen twice as much as we talk.

I did share my favorite quote from the patron saint of animals, St. Francis — “Preach the Gospel always and, if necessary, use words.” It barely slowed my friend down.

My friend will go on and on about being born again. He’ll elaborate on God talking to him, fasting, blue-ribbon bulls, speaking in tongues, the coyote problem and whatever else courses through his ever-active mind. Nothing wrong with that. But for many people, such a strong dose of God talk is a turnoff.

True, Christian values run deep. Granted, the power of prayer, however you choose to pray and whatever your beliefs, is astonishing.

My friend, though, takes the talk one step further. He will launch into a rant on the end times, how the world is going to hell in a hurry, the dangers of pumping so much oil out of the earth, crystal meth, Forrest Gump, drinking, pornography, rattlesnakes.

You name it. He can pontificate on it.

Somehow he ties all these disparate subjects together, and brings home his points with colorful metaphors and absolute clarity.

Still, there comes a time when I’ve had my fill of God talk, however mind expanding, I’ve heard enough Forrest Gump imitations and start looking for the exit sign.

“Did you know that dog is God spelled backwards?” I’ll say. “And by the way, my dogs are getting almighty hungry.”

Thank God for friends. And that there’s at least one way to politely end what seems like an eternal phone call.

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