Wow, what a great Post, I lost my Dog 20 Weeks a go and know how paingul it was to loose my best Friend. Once again Thanks DEL for sending this. Steve.
----- Original Message ----- From: "delma bliss" <[EMAIL PROTECTED]> To: <[email protected]> Sent: Friday, November 14, 2008 2:04 AM Subject: [RecipesAndMore] Re: Cheyenne, the dog > > hi, don't feel bad i cryed to when i read it > ----- Original Message ----- > From: "Marilyn L. DeWeese" <[EMAIL PROTECTED]> > To: <[email protected]> > Sent: Thursday, November 13, 2008 7:25 PM > Subject: [RecipesAndMore] Re: Cheyenne, the dog > > >> >> Hi Delma, >> >> What a story! I love dogs so much and tears are rolling down my face. >> Thanks. A good cry is always good. >> ----- Original Message ----- >> From: "Delma" <[EMAIL PROTECTED]> >> To: "RecipesAndMore" <[email protected]> >> Sent: Thursday, November 13, 2008 7:54 PM >> Subject: [RecipesAndMore] Cheyenne, the dog >> >> >>> >>> this is long, but worth the time, >>> Delma >>> >>> Cheyenne, the dog >>> >>> Watch out! You nearly broad sided that car! My father yelled at me. >>> >>> 'Can't you do anything right?' >>> >>> 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 a lumberjack 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. It seemed >>> 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.' >>> >>> I listened 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 I filled 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 the dog >>> 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 front of 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.' I 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's room. Dad lay in his bed, his face serene. >>> But >>> his spirit had left quietly sometime during the night. Two days later my >>> shock >>> and grief deepened 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 funeral dawned 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 began his 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. 'Do not neglect to show hospitality to strangers, for by >>> this >>> some >>> have entertained angels without knowing it.''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: the sympathetic voice that had just >>> read >>> the right article... Cheyenne 's unexpected appearance at the animal >>> shelter. >>> . ..his calm acceptance and complete devotion to my father. . and the >>> proximity of their deaths. And suddenly I understood. I knew that God >>> had >>> answered >>> 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. Forgive >>> now >>> those who made you cry. You might not get a second time. >>> >>> do share this with someone. Lost time can never be found. >>> >>> >>> > >>> >> >> >> > > > > -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- > > > > Internal Virus Database is out of date. > Checked by AVG - http://www.avg.com > Version: 8.0.175 / Virus Database: 270.9.0/1773 - Release Date: 11/7/2008 > 9:08 AM > > > > --~--~---------~--~----~------------~-------~--~----~ Access the Recipes And More list archives at: http://www.mail-archive.com/recipesandmore%40googlegroups.com/ Visit the group home page at: http://groups.google.com/group/RecipesAndMore -~----------~----~----~----~------~----~------~--~---
