The Old Man & The Dog.

[Rarly Harley]

Please share this with me......

The Old Man and the Dog

by Catherine Moore


'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 t he 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. '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: 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.
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.

[kelsh]

Priceless... :praying

Retiredmom_Oldwoman

[BillJ]

Oh, man, I hate them tear-jerkin' God-answers-prayers-and-restores-broken-hearts stories! Like that could really happen!

Except that it does, over and over. The longer I stay sober, the more I see God's hand at work in my life, and the lives of those I love. Calamity is met with serenity, and deep loss with even deeper faith. Not perfect, but far better than life could ever be prior to AA.

Thanks for sharing that, Rarly.

[best]

Before funeral homes were the place to hold a wake, people would have the wake in the family home. Clear off the dinning room table and place the casket on it and visitors would come to the home.

Such was the case when my Grandmother passed away shortly after my birth. I was only a few months old so it is a story my mother told me.
My Grandfather died 2 months before I was born, my Grandmother a few months after that. They had a cat that was 15 years old at the time. The family held the wake at my Grandparents' house and when they laid my Grandmother's open casket out on the dinning room table, the cat climbed right in and went to sleep beside her. When my mother went to check on the cat and feed him the next day, she found that the cat had passed away as well.

Did the cat died from being lonely or did the cat finish it's job on earth and get called home?

One more question that will get answer when I reach heaven I guess.

I have always found that a pet senses when things are not right. The times in my life when things seemed to be at their worste and I felt a need to be alone and away from others... the pup or the cat would always find that to be the right time to want my attention. There have been a few times that a pet has lifted me off the pitty pot or out of an oncoming depression session.

Pets sure are a wonderful gift from God.

[Fulldresser4]

Wow...I just have one question. Do you think that when you die and go to heaven that you know the people/pets that you have loved in your life time? I have struggled with this for so long and have gotten so many different answers...so what do you think? Will I know my Dad that died suddenly in 1989? Or my Mom who died suddenly in 1995? (Think I'm destined for a heart attack like them, LOL?). Will I know my childhood pet Buttercup? Or my Dear Grandmother who died before I was even born? I want so to believe that I will know them and they are watching over me, but I have many people tell me it will not be so...

[best]

Originally Posted by Fulldresser4

Wow...I just have one question. Do you think that when you die and go to heaven that you know the people/pets that you have loved in your life time?

Yes

The story of Lazarus is where the proof of such is at.
As Lazarus talked with the Lord, he asked if he could go back to earth and warn his brothers of what was to come if they didn't mend their ways.
If we didn't have awareness when we reach Heaven, Lazarus would not have even asked such a thing of God.

[Hurricane]

My own personal belief is yes.
I have myself and have heard of others having dreams of visiting loved ones there. I have also seen one person, with sober eyes, appear before me shortly after passing. Some call me crazy, but again, my own personal belief is that some of us need, and are given proof. That is only a couple of things that have convinced me.

[The_Hammer]

I love all of you, with every ounce of my being.

[serenityqueen]

My Mother is getting on in years and I have been dealing with her memory loss, anger at everyone (especially me, they say you're hardest on the one you're closest to) incontinence, complaining, forgetfullness . . . . all this has really been a test of patience on my part. I truly thank God that Mom's health was relatively good when I was using for I know I couldn't have dealt with this like I am if I hadn't been in Recovery for a few years now.

The past few days have been particularly difficult. Seems no matter what I do for her, it isn't enough.

But after reading the story of The Old Man and the Dog, I find myself reaching for the phone to just call and say, "I love you, Mom."

Thanks.

[BillJ]

Originally Posted by Fulldresser4

Wow...I just have one question....

All I know is that, the day of my father's funeral, over a week after his death, my cousin (a spiritual woman in her own way) came up to my brother and me, and said my father had come to her in a dream the previous night, and asked her to tell us he was sorry. This is a cousin we had very little contact with over the years. There was no way she could have known all the history my brother and I had with my father, or what it would mean to hear her message.

I don't know what my brother made of it, but I felt good. So far as I was concerned, my father and I were cool before he died - amends made and relationship restored - but maybe saying he was sorry helped him rest in peace. I certainly hope so.

Now I want to call my brother and ask him about it!

[toad]

Good story Rarly. This is peggy..........she kept me from extreme loneliness in the first years of my recovery. I am truly grateful..............toad

[forgiventatu]

very good stuff ..
as the tears run down my face ..
A.

[recoveringnky]

Originally Posted by Rarly Harley

Please share this with me......
Life is too short for drama & petty things, so laugh hard, love truly and forgive quickly.

Seen that phrase somewhere???? (My signature???)

I LOVE that story. Reminds me of my basset hound, Rexx. When I was married the first time, my husband was first verbally abusive and then became very physically abusive. Each time that Dan would scream at me or dart towards me, my beloved companion would run to me and sit on my feet...protecting me, if you will. I could see so much love in that dog's eyes!! He would curl up next to me where ever I was sleeping or napping. Yep, we had a strong bond, me and that dog! Rexx stayed with me through the divorce and until my second marriage. After our son was born, Rexx passed away. One morning he came up to me as I was leaving to go to work and sat on my feet. He hadn't done that in a while! I let him out to go to the bathroom and he simply walked outside, laid down and passed away. He was there when I needed him and maybe because God knew I was going to be okay in my new life, he took Rexx on home as he was a pretty old pooch... I miss him to this day!!!

Thanks Rarly for reminding me of this story and of the unconditional love we can receive from God's creatures!!!

Hugs,
Kym

[RichD]

What a privilege it is to share these stories with all of you!
My God bless you all, Rich