DEAR ABBY: Usually I do not interject my opinion to total strangers. However, as my wife and I were sitting at a table in a mall, there were two women at the next table. One of them had with her a screaming infant in a buggy. Finally, the mother lifted the baby into her arms and began bouncing it around. The baby cried even more, so the infant was put back in the buggy with a disgusted thrust as the baby continued to scream.

I spoke up, saying, "The baby may be thirsty." The mother found a bottle full of water and stuck it into the baby's mouth. The baby not only stopped crying, but attacked the water as if its life was dependent upon it.

I have heard women say about crying babies, "Don't worry -- the baby is just exercising her lungs." Abby, a baby's cry is a signal that something is wrong.

When a woman first becomes pregnant, a nurse in her doctor's office should instruct her about care for a crying baby. When the baby cries: Is she thirsty? Is he hungry? Is the baby wet and in need of changing? Is she too hot? Too cold? Are the bed clothes wrapped so tightly around the baby or his arms or legs that they are shutting off the circulation? (Lift the baby completely out of the crib and look things over.) The baby might also have an extremity caught in the buggy parts.

Finally, if it is none of the above, the baby might be sick. Learn how to take the infant's temperature. If the temperature is above 100 degrees F, take the baby immediately to the emergency room unless his or her doctor is willing and able to see the infant immediately. -- RETIRED DOCTOR IN SCOTTSDALE, ARIZ.

DEAR DOCTOR: Since babies don't come with directions included, that's excellent advice, for which I thank you.

Many books have been written about the care of newborns, and parenting classes are available through hospitals, some high schools and community colleges. However, your letter provides a quick "ready reference" for a parent on the run.

DEAR ABBY: Everyone, children and adults, who gets lost or is in danger should know Morse code for SOS. It's easy. Just learn this: . . . - - - . . .

You can yell it, tap it out, blow it on your car horn, blow it on a whistle, write it (in very large print) into sand, or lay large rocks on a beach spelling the SOS. The Morse code by voice is: "DIT DIT DIT-DAH DAH DAH-DIT DIT DIT." Many people know this SOS signal -- Scouts, airmen, ham radio operators, boaters, etc. If you think you're in trouble, and know you're within hearing distance, yell, "MAYDAY!"

I learned Morse code in flight school and never forgot the SOS call. Please print this, Abby. I want no one -- ever -- to be in need of an SOS and not know how to send it. -- FEMALE PILOT IN RANCHO MIRAGE, CALIF.

DEAR FEMALE PILOT: Since I don't know Morse code for "thank you," I offer my gratitude for your letter in English. The SOS is a handy bit of information to have. Even if one never has to use it, it's good insurance.

Abby shares her favorite recipes in two booklets: "Abby's Favorite Recipes" and "Abby's More Favorite Recipes." To order, send a business-size, self-addressed envelope, plus check or money order for $3.95 per booklet ($4.50 each in Canada) to: Dear Abby Booklets, P.O. Box 447, Mount Morris, IL 61054-0447. (Postage is included in price.)

DEAR ABBY: The letter from "In Limbo in Washington" prompted me to write. I, too, was widowed suddenly several years ago. Because of my strong church upbringing, I mistakenly believed that a church would be a safe place to meet stable, good "Christian" men.

Wrong! The men I met in church were as fallible as those I met anywhere else.

I encountered men who were just like those I would have met in any singles club or bar every day except Sunday, and "barracudas" trolling for victims. The majority of them were either retired or unemployed, and looking for a "sugar mama" to support them or supplement their income. If they were still unmarried in their 40s, there was usually a very good reason for it.

One of my friends from church had been engaged to a fellow from the group who pestered her for sex prior to their marriage. When she finally gave in, he treated her with such disrespect and disgust that she ended the relationship -- considering it a valuable lesson learned.

I briefly dated a fellow who, after my constant questioning about his marital status, finally admitted he was only "separated" and was looking for a lady to "help him make up his mind" as to whether he wanted to divorce his wife or not!

Then there was the desperate jewelry designer with the ego problem who had more earrings and piercings in his ears than I did; the gay man trying to find a woman to marry to convince his elderly parents he wasn't gay; and finally, the fellow who thought he was the reincarnation of a 15th-century pope. They were all loyal churchgoers. I also met men who thought I would be vulnerable and easy-pickings because I was a young widow. They found out differently.

So, where did I finally meet my handsome, sweet husband? We met at a local dance bar when I was so disgusted I was ready to join a convent even though I am not Catholic.

Please, Abby, warn single women not to automatically assume that all churchgoers are honest, upstanding citizens. They are human, just like the rest of us. Also, tell "Limbo" to dump that charming -- but still married -- S.O.B. because the minute she's out of the picture, he'll find another victim. Men like that don't change. -- NO NAME, NO CITY, NO CHURCH

DEAR NO, NO, NO: Your experience proves the truth of something I've said before that bears repeating. A church is not a museum for saints -- it's a hospital for sinners. Because a man is seated in the pew next to you at 10 o'clock on Sunday morning doesn't guarantee that he's 100 percent virtuous. It simply means he's usually more sober than one you'll meet in a bar at 10 o'clock on Saturday night.

DEAR ABBY: I read the item you printed saying that if the three wise men had been women, they would have asked for directions, arrived on time, cleaned the stable, helped deliver the baby, made a casserole and brought practical gifts.

What B.S.! They would have first gone to the beauty salon, had a wash, set and manicure, then home to pick out a proper outfit. Then they would have changed the outfit five times, called everybody they knew to yak about the trip, and arrived late. VERY late. -- STAN GERSHBEIN, FORT LAUDERDALE, FLA.

DEAR STAN: Spoken like a true male chauvinist. However, you may have been topped by Paul Harvey. He said what would REALLY have happened was that halfway to the oasis, the camel would have broken down because no one remembered to check his water level.

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 $3.95 ($4.50 in Canada) to: Dear Abby's "Keepers," P.O. Box 447, Mount Morris, IL 61054-0447. (Postage is included.)

DEAR ABBY: I just finished reading the letter about the husky dog who jumped from the back of a pickup truck into traffic. Here is our story:

We were camping Memorial Day weekend three years ago. Our dogs were tied up on short leashes in the back of our pickup truck. One of them climbed onto our cooler next to the side of the truck and fell out. The collar slipped over her head and she went under the wheel of the truck. When we got to her, she was still alive, but barely.

We drove 20 miles to the police station in Payson, Ariz. They called a vet at his home and gave us directions to his office. That wonderful man tried valiantly to save her, but couldn't. Her death still haunts us.

Needless to say, none of our dogs ride in the back of our truck anymore. I am now a volunteer for the Arizona Humane Society. Please, Abby, tell your readers to treat their pets as they would want to be treated. Pets are our friends. -- KAREN IN TEMPE, ARIZ.

DEAR KAREN: I'm printing your letter in the hope that the tragedy which befell your dog will discourage other dog owners from transporting their pets in the back of pickup trucks. Read on:

DEAR ABBY: I'm responding to the letter regarding people who allow their dogs to ride unprotected in the back of their pickups. I believe in divine justice. When these people go before their maker on Judgment Day, they will be sentenced to ride aimlessly in the back of a flatbed truck over bumpy back roads, wondering when the devil at the wheel will make his next sharp turn.

Remember, each of us will be judged by how we treated the least of God's creatures. -- ALLEN IN EMORY, TEXAS

DEAR ALLEN: If common sense doesn't rule, then perhaps your letter will scare careless or thoughtless pet owners into doing the right thing: keeping their dogs safely inside the cab of their trucks and out of harm's way. Read on:

DEAR ABBY: I have another story to add to the one about the dog that nearly didn't survive a ride in the back of a pickup.

We have two sons, one of whom owns a pickup truck. One Saturday night a few months ago, they were headed downtown. Our oldest son jumped in the back of the truck while his brother and their buddy sat in the cab. His brother had to swerve to avoid an accident, and our son in the back flew out of the pickup at 65 mph on the highway!

Every time I think of that night and what could have happened, I am grateful to God. My son survived with only minor fractures and lots of road burn. He is now back to work and is one lucky young man.

Our sons learned a hard lesson, but animals do not have a choice whether or not to ride in the back of the truck.

Abby, please stress to your readers to THINK before they allow riders -- human or animals -- in the back of their trucks. They may not be as fortunate as we were. -- GRATEFUL MOM IN TEXAS

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-sized, self-addressed envelope, plus check or money order for $3.95 ($4.50 in Canada) to: Dear Abby, Teen Booklet, P.O. Box 447, Mount Morris, IL 61054-0447. (Postage is included.)