The Dognapper

I braked as a blond fur ball streaked in front of my car. Turning my head to follow it, I watched a tiny, fluffy lap dog race up the cross street. It was well groomed, had a glittery, pink collar, and looked lost and frightened.

I sighed, moved into my heart, and turned the car around. He was headed up Brookline, toward where that quiet residential street emptied into Imperial Avenue (a major highway, packed with speeding cars).

I drove around the block as quickly as was safe when children might be around, pausing to let an incoming two-door sedan go by before turning back onto Brookline.

The rusty, bondo-speckled sedan stopped, and the driver hopped out and ran toward the dog.

I was puzzled, for the car did not look like it belonged in our neighborhood, and it had come from the Highway – the wrong direction to be looking for that dog, unless… I reached out from the heart, and found a dognapper looking for a dog to kidnap and ransom!

From the heart, I aligned up and out simultaneously. Up through the head with the source of Divine Will, and out from the heart to the situation in front of me.

The dog saw the man, spun around, and tried to run away.

I invoked Divine Will down and out into the situation, without qualifying or directing it toward any particular action.

The man bent as he ran, and the dog yelped as he scooped it up.

I held the emergency alignment, and let the Light of Will flow.

With a loud “clunk,” the man’s car slipped out of park into first gear, and began circling the intersection on its own. Startled, he dropped the dog and ran back toward his car. He grabbed the open door as it passed, and hung on desperately – legs flailing – while it circled. Once around, twice, into a third, and he stumbled, fell, and was dragged by his shoes until, finally, the car hit a stop sign.

Uninjured, but for his lost dignity and scuffed shoes, the would-be dognapper left the neighborhood.

The dog was long gone by then, but as I continued on my way I did another alignment on his behalf – for finding one’s way home.

Namaste,

Glen