DEAR ABBY: My mother was fired from her job 11 months ago and has not yet found work. She drew unemployment, but that has run out. However, her real problem is, she thinks the devil is living in her home and raping her every night.

She also thinks this man at work she had a crush on, and who kept rejecting her, is living in her house.

She often talks about killing herself. My aunts say she is fine, but she is NOT fine. She refuses to get professional help. How can I help her? -- WORRIED DAUGHTER IN ILLINOIS

DEAR WORRIED DAUGHTER: Unless your mother actually does something to prove she is a danger to herself or to others, there is little you can do except watch her closely. Her doctor should be notified about her delusions and her threats, but no one can force her into treatment unless she acts out.

You might also try talking to her spiritual adviser about her problem, and see if some sort of intervention can be done. But I really think her problem is psychological.

DEAR ABBY: I am dating a widower, "Charles," whom I really like except that he doesn't shut up about his "perfect" and "saintly" late, great wife. It grates on my nerves. I mean, what am I -- chopped liver?!

I tried matching him story-for-story about my late husband so he'd get the hint. It only made him rave about her more.

My widowed friends say they've encountered the same problem. If these guys think their wives were the best there is, why do they bother dating?

Charles tells me other women he's dated bore him. I can't believe it's not the other way around. Maybe he has to keep dating to find a new audience.

I don't understand why Charles keeps one foot in the grave with his wife while he's still alive. Is he depressed? Or just dumb? -- BOTH FEET ON THE GROUND

DEAR BOTH FEET: Perhaps he talks about his late wife because they shared so many years and events together that his major memories are bound up with her.

Instead of being resentful, speak up! Tell him it's time to stop dwelling on the past and to focus on the present. Work on creating new, happy memories with him. Take pictures, take trips, host a party together. Get a theater subscription, tickets to sporting events, etc., so his memory bank will spill over with recent happy memories with you. I can't think of a better investment.

DEAR ABBY: I tend to get upset easily and yell at my 7-year-old son when I'm stressed. I don't get physical, but I do get emotional. Sometimes I feel I am going to explode with all kinds of crazy feelings racing through my mind, body and soul. Do you have any suggestions for me? -- OVERSTRESSED IN CALIFORNIA

DEAR OVERSTRESSED: It's important that you get to the root of what's really bothering you -- and that may require professional help. Talk to your doctor about things you can do to reduce the stress in your life.

Also, make sure you're getting enough sleep. And consider this: Many people who suffer from emotional overload cope with it by getting at least 30 minutes of aerobic exercise a day. Give it a try. If that doesn't help, re-read paragraph one.

To receive a collection of Abby's most memorable -- and most frequently requested -- poems and essays, send a business-sized, self-addressed envelope, plus check or money order for $5 (U.S. funds) to: Dear Abby -- Keepers Booklet, P.O. Box 447, Mount Morris, IL 61054-0447. (Postage is included in the price.)

DEAR ABBY: I am a 13-year-old girl, and I know I am not wanted. One night I heard my mom talking to her new boyfriend about wishing she had no kids so she could do things without having to sneak around. I don't know what to do.

Is it my fault that she doesn't want me? Please help me, Abby. You help so many other people -- please start with me. -- UNWANTED IN OTTUMWA, IOWA

DEAR UNWANTED: None of this is your fault, and if your mother knew what you overheard, she would probably want her tongue amputated. I am sure she loves you very much. However, adults sometimes speak in "shorthand" -- and what she MAY have been trying to communicate to her boyfriend was that, overwhelmed with parental responsibilities, she was longing for the relative freedom of her youth.

Clip this column. Show it to your mother and let her explain the specific details to you -- after she apologizes, that is.

DEAR ABBY: I grew up in a small town where I was sheltered from the real world. I am now in college and realize how much I don't know.

I recently encountered a situation I had no idea how to handle. My friend confessed to me that she's gay. Although I was surprised, I wasn't upset because I love her as a friend.

Unfortunately, at the moment she poured her heart out to me, I didn't know what to say. All I could muster was, "Ummm ... OK." Abby, I felt awful!

If something like this happens again, is there proper etiquette to use? I don't want to be insensitive. Coming out is difficult enough without having to figure out what the person you confided in is feeling. Your thoughts, please. -- OPEN-MINDED BUT CLUELESS

DEAR OPEN-MINDED: There is no rule of etiquette for how to react when someone comes out to you. The best advice I can offer is to think with your heart and offer your support. Say, "Thank you for trusting me enough to tell me. It doesn't change the way I feel about you. You are my friend, and I love you." It's honest. It's clear. It's reassuring. And it's what the person needs to hear.

P.S. It's not too late to say that to your friend.

DEAR ABBY: We live in the tidy beach city of Santa Monica, Calif. Just around the corner from us is a fast-food restaurant. The number of people who stop to eat in front of our house is astounding, but that's not what bothers me.

What upsets me is the number of folks who dump their trash on our lawn when they've finished eating. They are usually construction workers or parents with young children.

Since schools often read your column in class, perhaps the students could write in and give us an explanation of why this kind of littering is acceptable nowadays. -- WANTING AN EXPLANATION

DEAR WANTING: We both know the reason -- it's because they're too lazy to dispose of the trash in an appropriate way. In the tidy beach city of Santa Monica, and in many other cities, there are laws against littering. I suggest you inform the police about your problem. I'm sure they'll welcome the chance to gather some extra revenue for the city.

What teens need to know about sex, drugs, AIDS, and getting along with peers and parents is in "What Every Teen Should Know." To order, send a business-size, self-addressed envelope, plus check or money order for $5 (U.S. funds only) to: Dear Abby, Teen Booklet, P.O. Box 447, Mount Morris, IL 61054-0447. (Postage is included.)

DEAR ABBY: I am a 12-year-old girl. My grandfather passed away. Then my rabbit died. On top of that, my cat, "Rocky," was diagnosed with cancer. It spread to all parts of his body. After hearing Rocky cry out in pain at 3 a.m., my family and I made the heart-wrenching decision to have him put to sleep. We took him to the vet, where I stroked his fur and spoke softly to him as he peacefully departed.

My parents stayed behind to speak to the vet, but I couldn't stand seeing Rocky lying on the table, so I walked out to the waiting room, still sobbing. The only other person there was an elderly man with a black Lab. With a foreign accent he asked what was wrong, and I tearfully told him my cat had just been put to sleep.

He handed me a tissue and said, "You made the right choice, dear. You were very unselfish. Just think how your pet would have suffered had you not done this for him."

I asked if he had ever put a pet to sleep, and he nodded. "Many times," he said. "Although it is sad, I think of it as one last act of love." I thought about his words because I had never thought of it like that. "Here," the man said, gesturing to his dog, "sometimes animals can comfort best." I knelt beside his dog, still crying, and the friendly Lab made me smile in spite of my sadness.

Then my parents came out and said it was time to go. I never found out the man's name, but I'd like to thank him for that act of kindness. I'll never forget how he helped me when I was hurting. -- MISSING ROCKY IN MOUNT PROSPECT, ILL.

DEAR MISSING ROCKY: Our guardian angels seem to show up just when we need them most. (I'll bet you didn't expect yours to have an accent and a canine companion.) The following may bring more comfort to you. It's worth remembering.

A DOG'S PRAYER

by Beth Norman Harris

Treat me kindly, my beloved master, for no heart in all the world is more grateful for kindness than the loving heart of mine.

Do not break my spirit with a stick, for though I should lick your hand between the blows, your patience and understanding will more quickly teach me the things you would have me do.

Speak to me often, for your voice is the world's sweetest music, as you must know by the fierce wagging of my tail when your footstep falls upon my waiting ear.

When it is cold and wet, please take me inside, for I am now a domesticated animal, no longer used to bitter elements. And I ask no greater glory than the privilege of sitting at your feet beside the hearth. Though you had no home, I would rather follow you through ice and snow than rest upon the softest pillow in the warmest home in all the land, for you are my god and I am your devoted worshipper.

Keep my pan filled with fresh water, for although I should not reproach you were it dry, I cannot tell you when I suffer thirst. Feed me clean food, that I may stay well, to romp and play and do your bidding, to walk by your side, and stand ready, willing and able to protect you with my life should your life be in danger.

And, beloved master, should the great Master see fit to deprive me of my health or sight, do not turn me away from you. Rather hold me gently in your arms as skilled hands grant me the merciful boon of eternal rest -– and I will leave you knowing with the last breath I drew, my fate was ever safest in your hands.

For everything you need to know about wedding planning, order "How to Have a Lovely Wedding." Send a business-size, self-addressed envelope, plus check or money order for $5 (U.S. funds only) to: Dear Abby, Wedding Booklet, P.O. Box 447, Mount Morris, IL 61054-0447. (Postage is included.)