The Altar, Part One
Otto: “Joy of the Lord’s day, Sister Faith!”
Hope: “Cut it out out, Otto. Mr. Goat isn’t even in the building.”
“You’re certain?” Otto asks. “Because I don’t want to disappoint him. He told me that, being without original sin, I have perfect understanding of scripture. And he said if I made a promise, he would impart the most sacred human secret, the Altar of Communication.”
“What did he ask you to promise?” Faith — er, Hope asks.
“Not to use my powers of speech or comprehension to alert bipeds that they are being watched,” Otto shares. “And I thought to myself, Sister Faith–”
Hope: “Otto!!”
Otto pauses with the air of a dog who has only recently come into his powers of intellect. “Sorry, but he was there, and told me he always knows what I’m thinking… So I try not to think disappointing thoughts.”
Hope: “But Otto, he’s not the Dog Almighty. He’s not even your master, like the Doc.”
Otto: “I know that in my head, Hope, but you know what’s my biggest obstacle to believing that? Don’t know how, and you probably won’t believe me, but he smells like the Big Fellow!”
Hope: “Hey Otto, you’re my brother, if you say Mr. Goat smells like the Dog Almighty, I believe you.”
Otto: “Thanks Sister… Hope! My heart swells with gratitude for our fellowship.”
Hope: “Otto…”
Otto: “Well, thanks anyway.”
Hope: “You’re welcome. But what about this secret Altar?”
Otto: “You mean the Altar’s secret. The Altar itself is right there in the fragrant little room the bipeds go into, to worship three times a day. You know, the one we hide in to get a drink of water, or cool off? Doc even gets mad. ‘Bad dog, shoo!’ ever since I was a pup.”
Hope: “Me too… Always got the feeling that was Holy Ground. No dogs allowed!”