I used to consider myself a reasonably intelligent person-- I used to have deep theological conversations and think brilliant (er...uh...maybe not brilliant exactly) thoughts. But as I have listened to myself these last few days, I realized my brain has apparently been vaccuumed out. Lately, I've sounded like this: "Good girl, Bella!" "Good potty, Bella!" "No, no... Bella! Bad Dog!", "No, Bella... we don't eat the cat!" "Bella, Please don't drag my broom across the house!" You get the idea.
My husband and I had one of my seminary friends over last night (one of those people with whom I used to have intelligent conversations...) and the friend pointed out something that maybe would help us out in the puppy department. He said that *smart* dogs had *maybe* thirty commands they could learn for a lifetime. He went on to tell us how to keep our commands short and too the point, or else the dog wouldn't hear anything at all. Thus my "Bella, we don't eat the cat" was probably rendered in her ears as "Bella...cat". In her mind, probably an introduction.
I've been pondering this. I'm (obviously) a wordy person, so I feel like the more words I can use, the better. I probably do this not only with puppies, but probably in the rest of my life as well. What if (and this may not be far from the truth...) people that we talk to only heard one or two words. Perhaps this is really about keeping "the main thing the main thing." We prattle on, but sometimes I wonder if we're really saying the things we need to say.
If you had to hook someone on Christ, just this fast, what would you say? I don't have an answer yet, but it's worth thinking about.

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