A friend here on RJ sent me this, but he didnt know how to post it....it is a sweet story....esp. for dog lovers.

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    Mar 30, 2009 7:00 PM GMT
    funny pictures of dog with pictures


    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 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'
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    Mar 30, 2009 7:44 PM GMT
    Continued...

    '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.

    Life is too short for drama & petty things, so laugh hard, love truly and forgive quickly.

    Catherine Moore
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    Mar 30, 2009 7:46 PM GMT
    Thanks....i didnt look to see that RJ had a posting limit and the end of the story had been cut off.....all those viewers and nobody said anything .. icon_rolleyes.gif
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    Mar 30, 2009 7:52 PM GMT
    I haz a Google. icon_smile.gif
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    Mar 30, 2009 8:20 PM GMT
    You psyched me for a minute.
    Thought this was one of those things where the next poster picks up the story and keeps it running.
    icon_smile.gif

    "If there are no dogs in Heaven,
    then when I die I want to go
    where they went."
    Will Rogers
  • Rookz

    Posts: 947

    Mar 30, 2009 8:22 PM GMT
    That was a great story, would have been nice if we had kept our basset hound for that dog bounded well with my father.
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    Mar 30, 2009 8:23 PM GMT
    i want a dog icon_sad.gif
  • Posted by a hidden member.
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    Mar 30, 2009 8:42 PM GMT
    waxon saidi want a dog icon_sad.gif

    funny pictures
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    Mar 30, 2009 8:50 PM GMT
    What a great story, I miss my dog now! At least I can walk my roommates around the park.
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    Mar 30, 2009 8:53 PM GMT
    Chaaxwvn saidWhat a great story, I miss my dog now! At least I can walk my roommates around the park.

    Do you put your roommates on leashes when you walk them??? ... icon_rolleyes.gif


    icon_lol.gif
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    Mar 30, 2009 9:15 PM GMT
    Caslon9000 said
    Chaaxwvn saidWhat a great story, I miss my dog now! At least I can walk my roommates around the park.

    Do you put your roommates on leashes when you walk them??? ... icon_rolleyes.gif


    icon_lol.gif


    HAH! Yes, otherwise, they'll run away, leaving me with all the rent. It's good exercise for them!

    (An unhealthy dog implies an unhealthy owner.)
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    Mar 30, 2009 9:18 PM GMT
    We recently had a yellow lab pass away from Lyme Disease at only 4 years old. Unfortunately, the disease was fairly stealthy about its presence until the last few days of her life - I had left for school a few days earlier after giving her a quick "see you soon" rub good-bye, and then suddenly I was staring blankly at my bedroom wall as I heard my mom relay the news.

    Love truly indeed, because sometimes you won't even get the warning of old age and graying muzzles before they're gone. icon_sad.gif
  • HndsmKansan

    Posts: 16311

    Mar 30, 2009 9:22 PM GMT
    That was a FANTASTIC story, David.. thanks for sharing that with us.
    I'm glad nobody is in this office at this moment. Thats what companionship with a canine is all about.

    icon_biggrin.gif
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    Mar 30, 2009 9:27 PM GMT

    Reminds me of this heroic dog in Chile...

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    Mar 30, 2009 9:43 PM GMT

    Nice and touching ... I never had a dog, I still prefer animals that doesn't give you anything in return .. CATZ ..

    Even worse .. lolcatz
  • PaMedic

    Posts: 65

    Mar 31, 2009 12:47 AM GMT
    What a great story. Make me so happy I got my girl now. Thanks for posting.

  • junknemesis

    Posts: 682

    Mar 31, 2009 1:06 AM GMT
    Thanks a lot David. That was a beautiful story.

    "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."

    I feel that their prayers were answered. That wonderful dog was just at the right place, for the right time, and she was lead to it. Sure, she had to take some action herself, because someone can't be lead on a path without them first taking a step.


    That's how I feel anyway.