| Husky My Foster Dog is Beautiful...
My foster dog stinks to high heaven. I don't know for sure what breed he is.His eyes are blank and hard.He won't let me pet him, and growls when I reach for him.He has ragged scars and crusty sores on his skin. His nails are long and his teeth, which he showed me, are stained. I sigh.I drove two hours for this. I carefully maneuver him so that I can stuff him in the crate. Then I lift the crate and put it in the car. I am going home with my new foster dog.At home I leave him in the crate till all the other dogs are in the yard. I get him out of the crate and ask him if he wants 'outside.' As I lead him to the door he hikes his leg on the wall and shows me his stained teeth again. When we come in he goes to the crate, because that's the only safe place he sees. I offer him food, but he won't eat it if I look at him; so, I turn my back. When I come back the food is gone. I ask again about 'outside.' When we come back, I pat him before I let him in the crate; he jerks away and runs into the crate to show me his teeth.The next day I decide I can't stand the stink any longer. I lead him into the bath with cheese in my hand. His fear of me is not quite overcome by his wish for the cheese. And well he should fear me, for I will give him a bath. After an attempt or two to bail out, he is defeated and stands there. I have bathed four-legged bath squirters for more dog years than he has been alive. His only defense was a show of his stained teeth that did not hold up to a face full of water. As I wash him it is almost as if I wash not only the stink and dirt away, but also some of his hardness. His eyes look full of sadness now. And he looks completely pitiful as only a soap-covered dog can. I tell him that he will feel better when he is cleaned. After the soap, the towels are not too bad; so, he lets me rub him dry. I take him outside. He runs for joy: the joy of not being in the tub and the joy of being clean. I, the bath giver, am allowed to share the joy. He comes to me and lets me pet him.One week later I have a vet bill. His skin is healing. He likes for me to pet him. I think I know what color he will be when his hair grows in. I have found out he is terrified of other dogs. So I carefully introduce him to my mildest four legged brat. It doesn't go well.Two weeks later there is a new vet bill for an infection that was missed on the first visit. He plays with the other dogs.Three weeks later he asks to be petted. He chewed up part of the rug.Eight weeks later his coat shines, and he has gained weight. He shows his clean teeth when his tongue lolls out after he plays chase in the yard with the gang. His eyes are soft and filled with life. He loves hugs and likes to show off his tricks, if you have the cheese.Someone called today and asked about him; they saw the picture I took the first week. They asked about his personality, his history, his breed. They asked if he was pretty. I asked them lots of questions. I checked up on them. I prayed. I said yes.When they saw him the first time, they said he was the most beautiful dog they had ever seen.Six months later I got a call from his new family. He is wonderful, smart, well-behaved and very loving. How could someone not want him?I told them I didn't know.He is beautiful.They all are.Written by: Martha O'Connor MY HEART BELONGS TO A SIBERIAN HUSKY
The Husky is a beauty, Magnificent and smart.
It wasn't long before I knew That dog had won my heart. Powerful yet graceful,With eyes that pierce your soul-A gentle wolf-like spirit, And a heart of purest gold. Affectionate and loving, Devoted to the end-I can't imagine life without My Husky-my best friend.
Smart Huskey From Eva I would just like to mention to the group that my huskey, Akila recently had been hit buy a car. Fortunatly she as recovering well. The problem is trying to stop her from licking her wounds. The vet gave me a cone to put on her head to prevent the licking. I took a week off of work to nurse her back to health and everything seemed to be fine untill I had to return back to work. The problem is, she doesn't fit in the kennle with the cone on her head. So I thought it would be a good idea to put her in the bathroom. What a big mistake that was! Not onley do I have a big vet bill, but now I will have a big water bill also. When I returned home from work I heard the water running in the bathroom! As soon as I opened up the bathroom door a gust of warm damp air hit me in the face. Somehow even with the cone on her head she seemed to find a way to get in the shower and turn the water on!. Thank God she didn't figure out how to close the drain.Never underestimate your dog in any situation, they can and will surprise you An old, tired-looking dog wandered into my garden; I could tell from his collar and well-fed belly that he had a home and was well taken care ofHe Calmly came over to me, I gave him a few pats on his head; he then followed me into my house, slowly walked down the hall curled up in the corner and fell asleep An hour later, he went to the door, and I let him out.The next day he was back, greeted me in my garden, walked inside and resumed his spot in the hall and again slept for about an hour. This continued off and on for several weeks.Curious I pinned a note to his collar: 'I would like to find out who the owner of this wonderful, sweet dog is and ask if you are aware that almost every afternoon your dog comes to my house for a nap.The next day he arrived for his nap, with a different note pinned to his collar: "He lives in a home with 6 children, 2 under the age of 3 - he's trying to catch up on his sleep. Can I come with him tomorrow?" A letter from a dog – "How Could You?"
When I was a puppy, I entertained you with my antics and made you laugh. You called me your child, and despite a number of chewed shoes and a couple of murdered throw pillows, I became your best friend. Whenever I was "bad," you'd shake your finger at me and ask "How could you?"...but then you'd relent and roll me over for a belly rub.My housebreaking took a little longer than expected, because you were terribly busy, but we worked on that together. I remember those nights of nuzzling you in bed and listening to your confidences and secret dreams, and I believed that life could not be any more perfect.We went for long walks and runs in the park, car rides,stops for ice cream (I only got the cone because "ice cream is bad for dogs" you said), and I took long naps in the sun waiting for you to come home at the end of the day.Gradually, you began spending more time at work and on your career, and more time searching for a human mate. I waited for you patiently, comforted you through heartbreaks and disappointments, never chided you about bad decisions, and romped with glee at your homecomings, and when you fell in love. She, now your wife, is not a "dog person", still I welcomed her into our home, tried to show her affection, and obeyed her. I was happy because you were happy.Then the human babies came along and I shared your excitement. I was fascinated by their pinkness, how they smelled, and I wanted to mother them, too. Only she and you worried that I might hurt them, and I spent most of my time banished to another room, or to a dog crate. Oh, how I wanted to love them, but I became a "prisoner of love." As they began to grow, I became their friend. They clung to my fur and pulled themselves up on wobbly legs, poked fingers in my eyes, investigated my ears, and gave me kisses on my nose. I loved everything about them and their touch because your touch was now so infrequent-and I would've defended them with my life if need be. I would sneak into their beds and listen to their worries and secret dreams, and together we waited for the sound of your car in the driveway.There had been a time, when others asked you if you had a dog, that you produced a photo of me from your wallet and told them stories about me. These past few years, you just answered "yes" and changed the subject. I had gone from being "your dog" to "just a dog," and you resented every expenditure on my behalf.Now, you have a new career opportunity in another city, and you and they will be moving to an apartment that does not allow pets. You've made the right decision for your "family," but there was a time when I was your only family. I was excited about the car ride until we arrived at the animal shelter. It smelled of dogs and cats, of fear, of hopelessness. You filled out the paperwork and said "I know you will find a good home for her." They shrugged and gave you a pained look. They understand the realities facing a middle-aged dog, even one with "papers." You had to pry your son's fingers loose from my collar as he screamed "No, Daddy! Please don't let them take my dog!" And I worried for him, and what lessons you had just taught him about friendship and loyalty, about love and responsibility, and about respect for all life.You gave me a good-bye pat on the head, avoided my eyes, and politely refused to take my collar and leash with you. You had a deadline to meet and now I have one, too. After you left, the two nice ladies said you probably knew about your upcoming move months ago and made no attempt to find me another good home. They shook their heads and asked "How could you?" They are as attentive to us here in the shelter as their busy schedules allow. They feed us, of course, but I
lost my appetite days ago. At first, whenever anyone passed my pen, I rushed to the front, hoping it was you that you had changed your mind-that this was all a bad dream...or I hoped it would at least be someone who cared, anyone who might save me. When I realized I could not compete with the frolicking for attention of happy puppies, oblivious to their own fate, I retreated to a far corner and waited. I heard her footsteps as she came for me at the end of the day, and I padded along the aisle after her to a separate room. A blissfully quiet room. She placed me on the table and rubbed my ears, and told me not to worry. My heart pounded in anticipation of what was to come, but there was also a sense of relief. As is my nature, I was more concerned about her. The burden which she bears weighs heavily on her, and I know that, the same way I knew your every mood. She gently placed a tourniquet around my foreleg as a tear ran down her cheek. I licked her hand in the same way I used to comfort you so many years ago. She expertly slid the hypodermic needle into my vein. As I felt the sting and the cool liquid coursing through my body, I lay down sleepily, looked into her kind eyes and murmured "How could you?" Perhaps because she understood my dogspeak, she said "I'm so sorry." She hugged me, and hurriedly explained it was her job to make sure I went to a better place, where I wouldn't be ignored or abused or abandoned, or have to fend for myself-a place of love and light so very different from this earthly place. Loosing Your Friend When I am gone, release me, let me go. I have so many things to do and see. You mustn't tie yourself to me with tears. Be happy that we've shared so many years. I gave you my love. You can only guess how much you gave me in happiness. I thank you for the love you each have shown, But now it's time I traveled on alone. So grieve a while for me, if grieve you must Then let your grief be comforted by trust It is only for a while that we must be part So bless the memories in your heart. I will not be far away, for life goes onSo if you need me, call and I will come Though you cannot see or touch me, I will be near All my love around you, soft and clear. And then when you must come this way alone, I'll greet you with a smile and say, "Welcome Home Rescue Pets Poem Now that I'm home, bathed, settled and fed,
All nicely tucked into my warm new bed.
I would like to open my baggage
Lest I forget,
There is so much to carry -
So much to regret.
Hmm.. Yes there it is, right on the top-
Let's unpack Loneliness, Heartache and Loss,
And there by my leash hides Fear and Shame.
As I look on these things I tried so hard to leave-
I still have to unpack my baggage called Pain.
I loved them, the others, the ones who left me,
But I wasn't good enough - for they didn't want me.
Will you add to my baggage?
Will you help me unpack?
Or will you just look at my things
And take me right back?
Do you have the time to help me unpack?
To put away my baggage,
To never re-pack?
I pray that you do - I'm so tired you see,
But I do come with baggage -
Will you still want me?
I dearly hope so....
A Dogs Prayer--- Beth Norman Harris --- Treat me kindly , my beloved master,for no heart in all the world is more grateful for kindness than the lovingheart of me.Do not break my spirit with a stick,for although I should lick your hand between blows, your patience andunderstanding will more quickly teachme the things you would have be do. Speak to me often, for your voice is 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 theprivilege of sitting at your feet beside the hearth. Though had you no home,I would rather follow you through ice and snow than rest upon the softest pillow in the warmest home in 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 so 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 draw, my fate was every safest in your hands Here is Nyleen's story. VERY SAD
Spencer and Sophie were Nyleen's traveling companions on countless road trips over the years and were like children to her. They even took the overnight ferry once with her, crossing over to Newfoundland. She smiles thinking about how the border guard said that Spencer looked slightly suspicious and he might need to be frisked and then winked. Nyleen was no stranger to traveling with dogs. She had shown dogs in her youth. So she was used to taking dogs on road trips with crates and bottled water. She understood how to keep dogs comfortable no matter where they were going or how they were getting there. She had traveled with her dogs for years across the country and back many times. She never imagined losing them. She always avoided traveling alone in the hot summer months, but this one particular trip was business. After spending a week in Philadelphia, where the dogs had stayed in the air-conditioned hotel room, it was time to move on. She headed for home driving down the coast to Virginia and stopped in Delaware. Nyleen thought she would spend some time sightseeing and because she couldn't take the dogs with her, left them crated in the car. It was overcast outside and not hot, but Nyleen put a fan on her dogs and cracked the windows. When she returned, both Spencer and Sophie were both dead! Nyleen couldn't understand what happened. She was no novice and the weather was fine. She got her answer at the vet's office. The high humidity in the area was especially dangerous. Even if it wasn't especially hot outside, the humidity could get high enough to create conditions in a car where animals suffocate.
Heat stroke is a common emergency. Dogs are most susceptible in the spring (April and May) when it starts to get warm but dogs have not yet acclimated to the weather change.Take a moment to learn how to prevent heat stroke. We have an excellent article by Dr. Debra Primovic about heat stroke in dogs . To read the article go to: petplace.com/ dogs/heat- stroke/page1. aspx.
It's a horrible way to learn this lesson. Nyleen doesn't think she'll ever get over it. She hopes at least that everyone will read her story and not have to learn the hard way. She pleads, "Never, ever, for any reason or any length of time, leave your dog in the car." Rainbow Bridge Just this side of heaven is a place called Rainbow Bridge. When an animal dies that has been especially close to someone here, that pet goes to Rainbow Bridge. There are meadows and hills for all of our special friends so they can run and play together. There is plenty of food, water and sunshine, and our friends are warm and comfortable.All the animals who had been ill and old are restored to health and vigor. Those who were hurt or maimed are made whole and strong again, just as we remember them in our dreams of days and times gone by. The animals are happy and content, except for one small thing; they each miss someone very special to them, who had to be left behind. They all run and play together, but the day comes when one suddenly stops and looks into the distance. His bright eyes are intent. His eager body quivers. Suddenly he begins to run from the group, flying over the green grass, his legs carrying him faster and faster. You have been spotted, and when you and your special friend finally meet, you cling together in joyous reunion, never to be parted again. The happy kisses rain upon your face; your hands again caress the beloved head, and you look once more into the trusting eyes of your pet, so long gone from your life but never absent from your heart.
Then you cross Rainbow Bridge together.... | | Poems and Stories Inner Strength ......................................
If you can start the day without caffeine,
If you can always be cheerful, ignoring aches and pains,
If you can resist complaining and boring people with your troubles,
If you can eat the same food every day and be grateful for it,
If you can understand when your loved ones are too busy to give you any time,
If you can take criticism and blame without resentment
If you can ignore a friend's limited education and never correct him/her,
If you can resist treating a rich friend better than a poor friend,
If you can conquer tension without medical help,
If you can relax without adult beverages,
If you can sleep without the aid of drugs,
. . . Then You Are Probably The Family Dog!
"Bidding Farewell" (jhelms copyright 4-2008)
How do we say "good-bye", when we long for them to stay..?How do we find the words...to let them know the ways...?They touch our lives; they steal our hearts, and then must journey on.. They leave behind sweet memories, and a very special bond.How blessed we are and lucky too that they have shared our lives..The love we shared is so very clear.......just look into their eyes. Husky Heaven (not a sad post) Okay, so I took my 8 month old boy, Indy, for his first walk in a forest preserve today. What should have been a 20 minute walk turned into an hour because of course he had to sniff everything! I think the funniest thing was watching him try to decide what to chase first, the bird, bunny, squirrel, or moth. He just sat down on the trail and would not move. I had to practically drag him to get started again! Would I do it again? Absolutely! There's nothing more special than seeing a child, human or canine, discover something for the first time! JodieInner In the dead letter office of the US postal service Hi folks,Even if you don't love dogs it's a touching story.This is one of the kindest things I've ever experienced. I have no way to know who sent it, but there is a beautiful soul working in the dead letter office of the US postal service. Our 14 year old dog, Abbey, died last month. The day after she died, my 4 year old daughter Meredith was crying and talking about how much she missed Abbey. She asked if we could write a letter to God so that when Abbey got to heaven, God would recognize her. I told her that I thought we could so she dictated these words: Dear God, Will you please take care of my dog? She died yesterday and is with you in heaven. I miss her very much. I am happy that you let me have her as my dog even though she got sick. I hope you will play with her. She likes to play with balls and to swim. I am sending a picture of her so when you see her. You will know that she is my dog. I really miss her.Love, Meredith. We put the letter in an envelope with a picture of Abbey and Meredith and addressed it to God/Heaven. We put our return address on it. Then Meredith pasted several stamps on the front of the envelope because she said it would take lots of stamps to get the letter all the way to heaven. That afternoon she dropped it into the letter box at the post office. A few days later, she asked if God had gotten the letter yet. I told her that I thought Hehad.Yesterday, there was a package wrapped in gold paper on our front porch addressed, "To Meredith , " in an unfamiliar hand. Meredith opened it. Inside was a book by Mr. Rogers called, "When a Pet Dies." Taped to the inside front cover was the letter we had written to God in its opened envelope. On the opposite page was the picture of Abbey & Meredith and this note:
Dear Meredith,Abbey arrived safely in heaven. Having the picture was a big help. I recognized Abbey right away. Abbey isn't sick anymore. Her spirit is here with me just like it stays in your heart. Abbey loved being your dog. Since we don't need our bodies in heaven, I don't have any pockets to keep your picture in, so I am sending it back to you in this little book for you to keep and have something to remember Abbey by. Thank you for the beautiful letter and thank your mother for helping you write it and sending it to me. What a wonderful mother you have. I picked her especially for you. I send my blessings every day and remember that I love you very much. By the way, I'm easy to find, I am wherever there is love.
Love, God Just A Dog
From time to time, people tell me, "lighten up, it's just a dog," or,"that's a lot of money for just a dog."They don't understand the distance traveled, the time spent, or thecosts involved for "just a dog."Some of my proudest moments have come about with "just a dog."Many hours have passed and my only company was "just a dog," but I did not once feel slighted.Some of my saddest moments have been brought about by "just a dog," and in those days of darkness, the gentle touch of "just a dog" gave me comfort and reason to overcome the day. If you, too, think it's "just a dog," then you will probably understand phrases like "just a friend," "just a sunrise," or "just a promise." "Just a dog" brings into my life the very essence of friendship, trust,and pure unbridled joy. "Just a dog" brings out the compassion and patience that make me a better person. Because of "just a dog" I will rise early, take long walks and look longingly to the future.So for me and folks like me, it's not "just a dog" but an embodiment of all the hopes and dreams of the future, the fond memories of the past, and the pure joy of the moment. "Just a dog" brings out what's good in me and diverts my thoughts awayfrom myself and the worries of the day. I hope that someday they can understand that it's not "just a dog" but the thing that gives me humanity and keeps me from being "just a person. "So the next time you hear the phrase "just a dog" just smile, because they "just don't understand." If It Should Be
If it should be that I grow frail and weak, And pain should keep me from my sleep. Then you must do what must be done, For this last battle can't be won. You will be sad, I understand, Don't let your grief then stay your hand. For this day, more than all the rest, Your love and friendship stand the test. We've had so many happy years, What is to come can hold no fears. Would you want me to suffer? So,When the time comes, please let me go. Take me where my needs they'll tend, Only, stay with me until the end. And hold me firm and speak to me, Until my eyes no longer see. It is a kindness that you do to me. Although my tail its last has waved, From pain and suffering I have been saved. Do not grieve it should be you, Who must decide this thing to do. We've been so close, we had these years, Don't let your heart hold any tears. May I Go Now(Susan A. Jackson)
Do you think the time is right? May I say good-bye to pain filled days and endless lonely nights?I've lived my life and done my best, an example tried to be. So can I take that step beyond and set my spirit free? I didn't want to go at first.I fought with all my might. But something seems to draw me now to a warm and loving light. I want to go. I really do. It's difficult to stay. But I will try as best I can to live just one more day. To give you time to care for me and share your love and fears.
I know you're sad and afraid, because I see your tears. I'll not be far, I promise that, and hope you'll always know that my spirit will be close to you,wherever you may go. Thank you so for loving me.You know I love you too, that's why it's hard to say good-bye and end this life with you. So hold me now, just one more time and let me hear you say, because you care so much for me, you'll let me go today. Watch out!
You nearly broad-sided that car!' My father yelled at me. 'Can't you do anythingright?' Those words hurt worse than blows. I turned my head toward the elderly man in the seat beside me, daring me to challenge him A lump rose in my throat as I averted my eyes. I wasn't prepared for another battle. 'I saw the car, Dad. Please don't yell at me when I'm driving.' My voice was measured and steady, sounding far calmer than I really felt.Dad glared at me, then turned away and settled back. At home I left Dad in front of the television and went outside to collect my thoughts. Dark, heavy clouds hung in the air with a promise of rain. The rumble of distant thunder seemed to echo my inner turmoil. What could I do about him? Dad had been alumberjack in Washington and Oregon. He had enjoyed being outdoors and had reveled in pitting his strength against the forces of nature. He had entered grueling lumberjack competitions, and had placed often. The shelves in his house were filled with trophies that attested to his prowess. The years marched on relentlessly. The first time he couldn't lift a heavy log, he joked about it; but later that same day I saw him outside alone, straining to lift it. He became irritable whenever anyone teased him about his advancing age, or when he couldn't do something he had done as a younger man.. Four days after his sixty-seventh birthday, he had a heart attack. An ambulance sped him to the hospital while a paramedic administered CPR to keep blood and oxygen flowing. At the hospital, Dad was rushed into an operating room. He was lucky; he survived. But something inside Dad died. His zest for life was gone. He obstinately refused to follow doctor's orders. Suggestions and offers of help were turned aside with sarcasm and insults. The number of visitors thinned, then finally stopped altogether. Dad was left alone. My husband, Dick, and I asked Dad to come live with us on our small farm. We hoped the fresh air and rustic atmosphere would help him adjust. Within a week after he moved in, I regretted the invitation. Itseemed nothing was satisfactory. He criticized everything I did. I became frustrated and moody. Soon I was taking my pent-up anger out on Dick. We began to bicker and argue. Alarmed, Dick sought out our pastor and explained the situation.. The clergyman set up weekly counseling appointments for us. At the close of each session he prayed, asking God to soothe Dad's troubled mind.. But the months wore on and God was silent. Something had to be done and it was up to me to do it. The next day I sat down with the phone book and methodically called each of the mental health clinics listed in the Yellow Pages. I explained my problem to each of the sympathetic voices that answered. In vain. Just when I was giving up hope, one of the voices suddenly exclaimed, 'I just read something that might help you! Let me go get the article.' Ilistened as she read. The article described a remarkable study done at a nursing home. All of the patients were under treatment for chronic depression. Yet their attitudes had improved dramatically when they were given responsibility for a dog. I drove to the animal shelter that afternoon. After Ifilled out a questionnaire, a uniformed officer led me to the kennels. The odor of disinfectant stung my nostrils as I moved down the row of pens. Each contained five to seven dogs. Long-haired dogs, curly-haired dogs, black dogs, spotted dogs all jumped up, trying to reach me. I studied each one but rejected one after the other for various reasons, too big, too small, too much hair. As I neared the last pen a dog in the shadows of the far corner struggled to his feet, walked to the front of the run and sat down. It was a pointer, one of thedog world's aristocrats. But this was a caricature of the breed. Years had etched his face and muzzle with shades of gray. His hipbones jutted out in lopsided triangles. But it was his eyes that caught and held my attention.. Calm and clear, they beheld me unwaveringly. I pointed to the dog. 'Can you tell me about him?' The officer looked, then shook his head in puzzlement.'He's a funny one. Appeared out of nowhere and sat in frontof the gate. We brought him in, figuring someone would be right down to claim him, that was two weeks ago and we've heard nothing. His time is up tomorrow.' He gestured helplessly As the words sank in I turned to the man in horror. 'You mean you're going to kill him?' 'Ma'am,' he said gently,'that's our policy.. We don't have room for every unclaimed dog.' looked at the pointer again. The calm brown eyes awaited my decision. 'I'll take him,' I said. I drove home with the dog on the front seat beside me. When I reached the house I honked the horn twice. I was helping my prize out of the car when Dad shuffled onto the front porch. 'Ta-da! Look what I got for you, Dad!' I said excitedly. Dad looked, then wrinkled his face in disgust. 'If I had wanted a dog I would have gotten one. And I would have picked out a better specimen than that bag of bones. Keep it! I don't want it' Dad waved his arm scornfully and turned back toward the house. Anger rose inside me.. It squeezed together my throat muscles and pounded into my temples. 'You'd better get used to him, Dad. He's staying!' Dad ignored me. 'Did you hear me, Dad?' I screamed. At those words Dad whirled angrily, his hands clenched at his sides,his eyes narrowed and blazing with hate. We stood glaring at each other like duelists, when suddenly the pointer pulled free from my grasp. He wobbled toward my dad and sat down in front of him. Then slowly, carefully, he raised his paw. Dad's lower jaw trembled as he stared at the uplifted paw. Confusion replaced the anger in his eyes. The pointer waited patiently.Then Dad was on his knees hugging the animal. It was the beginning of a warm and intimate friendship. Dad named the pointer Cheyenne. Together he and Cheyenne explored the community. They spent long hours walking down dusty lanes They spent reflective moments on the banks of streams, angling for tasty trout. They even started to attend Sunday services together, Dad sitting in a pew and Cheyenne lying quietly at his feet. Dad and Cheyenne were inseparable throughout the next three years. Dad's bitterness faded, and he and Cheyenne made many friends. Then late one night I was startled to feel Cheyenne's cold nose burrowing through our bed covers. He had never before come into our bedroom at night. I woke Dick, put on my robe and ran into my father'sroom. Dad lay in his bed, his face serene. But his spirit had left quietlysometime during the night.Two days later my shock and griefdeepened when I discovered Cheyenne lying dead beside Dad's bed. I wrapped his still form in the rag rug he had slept on.. As Dick and I buried him near a favorite fishing hole, I silently thanked the dog for the help he had given me in restoring Dad's peace of mind The morning of Dad's funeraldawned overcast and dreary. This day looks like the way I feel, I thought, as I walked down the aisle to the pews reserved for family. I was surprised to see the many friends Dad and Cheyenne had made filling the church. The pastor beganhis eulogy. It was a tribute to both Dad and the dog who had changed his life. And then the pastor turned to Hebrews 13:2. 'Be not forgetful to entertain strangers.' 'I've often thanked God for sending that angel,' he said. For me, the past dropped into place, completing a puzzle that I had not seen before: thesympathetic voice that had just read the right article. Cheyenne's unexpected appearance at the animal the proximity of their deaths. And suddenly I understood. I knew that God hadanswered my prayers after all.Life is too short for drama & petty things, so laugh hard, love truly and forgive quickly.Live While You Are Alive. Tell the people you love that you love them, at every opportunity.Forgive now those who made you cry. You might not get a second Time.And if you don't send this to at least 4 people - who cares?But do share this with someone. Lost time can never be found. Burglar A burglar broke into a house one night. He shined hisflashlight around, looking for valuables, and when he picked up a CD player to place in his sack, a strange, disembodied voice echoed from the dark saying, "Jesus is watching you." He nearly jumped out of his skin, clicked his flashlight out, and froze. When he heard nothing more after a bit, he shook his head, promised himself a vacation after the next big score, then clicked the light back on and began searching for more valuables. Just as he pulled the stereo out so he could disconnect the wires, clear as a bell he heard, "Jesus is watching you." Freaked out, he shined his light around frantically, looking for the source of the voice. Finally, in the corner of the room, his flashlight beam came to rest on a parrot. "Did you say that?" He hissed at the parrot. "Yep," the parrot confessed, then squawked, "I'm just trying to warn you."
The burglar relaxed. "Warn me, huh? Who in the world are you?" "Moses," replied the bird. "Moses?" the burglar laughed. "What kind of stupid people would name a parrot Moses?" The bird promptly answered, "Probably the same kind of people that would name a Rotweiller "Jesus"! | |