Unleashed: The Wit and Wisdom of Calvin the Dog

In a set of toothsome reflections, Calvin, a mongrel who is part Golden Retriever, part Labrador and part Chow, sets his paws to paper and to sniff out ""life's buried treats"" and chew on the bone and marrow of their theology. With his nose to the ground, Calvin picks up the scent of God, the Lead Dog, and trots through numerous fields where God has left Her mark: ""going to church,"" ""the kindness of strangers,"" ""evolution,"" ""fleas"" and ""the edible complex,"" among others. On fleas, for example, Calvin barks: ""You will always have to deal with fleas--those everyday bites, itches, and irritations. Cope with them as best you can, and accept help when offered."" Calvin takes a bite out of Reinhold Niebuhr's famous ""Serenity Prayer"" when he whimpers: ""God grant me the serenity to surrender the things I cannot eat; to swallow the things I can, and the sense to know the difference."" And, Calvin crawls under the fence of process theology when he declares that ""God is the supreme Lead Dog, who persuades rather than coerces. And those who follow God best follow that lead by shepherding rather than bulldogging others."" The book is replete with ""paw notes"" that translate Canine terms, (e.g., ""The usual Canine word for car literally means window-that-moves"") and includes black-and-white line drawings of Calvin's canine cavorting. Told in the spirit of A Porcine History of Philosophy, Calvin's tongue-waggers are often howlingly funny. Yet, whether it is Glaser's translation or Calvin's original text, the too precious and (p)awful punning might encourage some of Calvin's neighbors to enforce leash laws to keep Calvin from leaving his droppings in their yards. (July)