Praying with Ciara

Last month, my family's two dogs were sprinkled with holy water and blessed at a pet blessing ceremony at St. Columbkille.

This month, one of those dogs is praying.

And she appears to have a special devotion to our Blessed Mother.

Let me explain how this development has come about:

Our family has a custom of praying a Hail Mary before the kids' sports games. We pray for safety and sportsmanship for all involved, for a good game for the team and in particular for our child or any teammate who would benefit from a good performance, for the souls of everyone at the game, and for a victory, if it be God's will. After the "Hail Mary" we end with a traditional team prayer for Catholics: "Our Lady, Queen of Victory, pray for us!"

In our family, one person shouts the first part, the address to Mary. And the others shout back even louder "pray for us!"

Well with all the yelling, our dog Ciara gets a little excited. And a while back she began barking with everyone during the "pray for us!" response. At first the perfectly timed barking seemed like a fluke, and we just chuckled at it. But now she appears to have become conditioned to that response, barking the prayer more frequently with us.

Now she barks with other, similar prayers. I often ask my kids to pray a "Hail Mary" with me before I go to work, for a peaceful night. And we end with "Our Lady, Queeen of Peace, pray for us." No yelling involved.

Just earlier this week when my son Peter and I prayed, invoking the Queen of Peace calmly, Ciara chimed in on cue. A couple days later I tested her alone, with dog treat in hand, shouting "Our Lady, Queen of Victory ..." And "Roh, roh, roh, roh, roh!" was her response. (She prays kind of like Scooby Doo.)

A little background on this dog should be noted:

One night a few years ago, missing a beloved dog that had died, I prayed for another dog, not completely sure if that was a wise prayer. The very next day, at a family gathering, my niece brought three mixed-breed puppies, two in need of a good home. And of course, my children begged for one.
Normally I might have objected, knowing the messes puppies make. But it appeared we were getting a gift from God, so how could I refuse? They had the choice of a dark female puppy or her lighter-colored brother. They chose the girl.

Once we got home we had the task of naming the dog, and each child had certain qualities they wanted in the name. One asked for a current, up-to-date name. Another wanted the literal meaning of the name to reflect something about the dog. Another preferred a saint's name. So we started searching baby names, reading aloud several suggestions. Each was rejected until we came upon Ciara, pronounced "keera."

The name is currently popular; and in its original Irish Gaelic, Ciara means "dark-haired." But we really knew we had the right name when we learned that Ciara is a feminine form of Ciaran, the name of an Irish saint who befriended St. Columbkille.

So perhaps our dog was destined to become saintly and pray. Certainly like all creatures, she was designed to give glory and praise to the Creator.

Now we just need to train her to evangelize.

Then she can teach our younger dog, Laika, to pray.

Inspired by the Year of Faith, Susan Szalewski began writing weekly columns for us. Although that year is over, we liked them so well that we asked her to keep writing. Thankfully, she said yes. So watch for these on Thursdays and see the Year of Faith Blog here.

Make Time for a Walk

This morning I made myself get up early.

I had lots to do, and I was ready to forge into the busy day.

I was dressed and almost ready to go, but then I saw my daughter and carpool buddy, Rose, at the top of the steps, still in the clothes she slept in and looking drowsy. “Are you still planning on leaving early?” she asked.

“No,” I answered. “I can work on the computer here.

By then a familiar black dog was at my feet, and I bent over to let her cover my face with kisses. She’s so sweet and loving first thing in the morning, but she quickly reverts to her feisty self. At that moment, though, she melted my heart, and I gave in. “Come on, Ciara, we’ll go for a walk.” And she happily consented.

I attached her leash, and she tore through the front doorway and down some steps, pulling me behind. But then she slowed down to sniff . . . and sniff . . . as we walked down the block. The morning was beautiful, still dark and cool, with only a hint of light changing the sky from black to a deep, soft violet blue.

My plans had changed a bit. I still faced a lot of work, but now I had a moment to pause, relax and breathe in the fresh air. I had a moment to stop and think about my day and invite God into it for help.

I thought about a phone conversation I had the previous week with a noted spiritual writer, Heather King, who frequently contributes to Magnificat magazine and is planning a visit to Omaha. (That’s a great job perk, by the way, talking to people about faith.)

Right off the bat, King told me she doesn’t have a theology degree. She mostly writes about her personal experiences and finds inspiration in ordinary things – like on the walks she takes.

Others, too, have found inspiration in ventures outside, like the main subject of the conversation we had, St. Thérèse of Lisieux, who saw Christ in all of creation – including little wildflowers and even a jam sandwich – King pointed out.

I rarely go on walks alone. I usually have a dog and one or more kids with me, but that doesn’t prevent me from finding God. In fact, it often helps. They lead me to places I never would have gone or to see things I never would have seen (in both the physical journey and in thought) if had I had been by myself.

Walks provide time for conversations. And the young, being so alert, discover treasures – and lessons – I might have missed.

I suppose Ciara is no longer a puppy, but she still has puppy enthusiasm and energy. As we walk she is attentive to everything: a leaf blowing down the street, a person taking out trash, a distant bark.

I guess you just never know, in everything around us, what God might be trying to say at that very moment.

Yes, life is busy. But every day I should make time for a walk.

Inspired by the Year of Faith, Susan Szalewski began writing weekly columns for us. Although that year is over, we liked them so well that we asked her to keep writing. Thankfully, she said yes. So watch for these on Thursdays and see the Year of Faith Blog here.

Crazy Ciara

We had a scare this week with our family's dog, Ciara (pronounced keera).

This week, on her 1-year birthday (fittingly on April Fool's Day), she found a fish hook.

My son, Paul, 10, discovered fishing line coming out of her mouth and tried to remove it. But after gently tugging the line, he knew there was a hook at the other end. I got a phone call from his older sister Mary. They feared she swallowed the hook.

My husband, Tim, had to leave work to take Ciara to the veterinarian. Luckily, the hook was just stuck in her lip. The veterinary staff had to sedate her, though, to safely cut the barb.

I picked her up about an hour later, after the sedation wore off. A woman at the front desk was telling me Ciara still might be groggy, when the dog bounded through a doorway, pulling another employee at the other end of the leash. I laughed with the lady at the front desk. So much for being groggy.

"Whoa, she's crazy," said the woman holding Ciara's leash.

Crazy, the perfect word for Ciara, I thought. We've used other words for her, too, including quirky and sassy. The veterinarian, when he first met her at 8 weeks of age, called her "strong-willed."

More than one person in our family has suggested Ciara might not be a dog at all but an alien from outer space. We're not exactly sure if she loves us or wants to kill us when she suffocates us with kisses or nearly knocks us down stairs when she greets us. Sometimes she approaches with soft, loving eyes; other times she stares at us like prey.

We're not sure what breeds of dog her parents were. But just by looking at Ciara, you can tell she's a crazy mix.

First and foremost, her ears stand out. They're huge, both pointing upward and flopping down. Her tail is a curly, wagging whip. Even her coat is slightly mixed up, mostly dark black but with brown undertones.

Ciara is neither big nor small, but something in between. On one hand, she's long-legged and sleek, but on the other hand, boxy and muscular. Two words from Psalm 122 describe the city of Jerusalem but also remind me of Ciara: "strongly compact."

Blessed John Paul II (soon to be St. John Paul II) developed a "Theology of the Body," which says our physical human bodies convey deeper spiritual truths about us. Similarly, I think Ciara's body says something deeper about her, and it screams: I'm unconventional.

Her name, too, is a little unusual, the result of being part of a big family. Everyone wanted something different for her name. One person wanted a contemporary-sounding name, another asked for a saint's name. One person wanted a name that described the dog's appearance, another asked for a one- or two-syllable name that would be practical for training.

Rita, Bonnie and other names were soundly rejected. But our daughter Rose, 15, started glancing at names online and found Ciara, the feminine form of Ciaran, the name of two major Irish saints, which means "black," the color of our dog.

We found a name that fit everyone's demands, and we liked it. The name suited our dog. But we liked it even more when we later learned that one of the St. Ciarans was a friend of St. Columbkille. Perfect, we thought. The name even linked to our parish.

A year ago, our family had been hesitant to adopt another dog. We had recently lost two beloved pets in a short span and didn't want another heartache. We kind of enjoyed being free of pet problems, costs and messes for a while.

But deep down, I think, we all yearned for a dog. Even me, knowing that as a mother most of the feeding, cleaning, walking and caring for the dog would fall on me. Despite living in a house with nine other people, I missed the companionship of a dog, a friend to go on long walks with at any hour of the day.

I said a little prayer to God, telling him of my mixed feelings about another pet, yet still having that longing. Ultimately, I left it up to Him . . . "if it be Your will."

And the very next morning our family met Ciara at a family picnic at Halleck Park. My niece brought along three puppies, hoping to find homes for two. I saw the puppies and immediately knew God answered my prayer. Later I learned I wasn't the only family member praying for a pet.

One year later, we have crazy Ciara trying to chew fishing line. We love her, she's the answer to our prayers, and perhaps the epitome of the saying: "Be careful what you pray for."

Inspired by the Year of Faith, Susan Szalewski began writing weekly columns for us. Although that year is over, we liked them so well that we asked her to keep writing. Thankfully, she said yes. So watch for these on Thursdays and see the Year of Faith Blog here.