Comments

  1. Tammy Tucker Weston says

    “TOP DOG”

    Do not choose the puppy that claims the top spot of the litter. I was advised by many. By the time I had heard this it was too late. My dear neighbor gave me a beautiful fluffy whitish yellow lab to soften the loss of my little yellow doggie I had just put to sleep due to cancer. The big paws nearly as big as his head should have been a clue. Never considered a little puppy, causing the appropriate name of “Samson”. As we all know puppies are a challenge for awhile. Samson caught on potty training quickly, he didn’t tear up my house. But he had a worse character flaw, barking. Yes Sam was a yapper from the beginning. His piercing distinctive bark made it impossible for me to blame other neighborhood dogs for the annoying noise. When anyone visited, Sam would greet them alright, sometimes knocking them down with pure joy. He seemed to believe everyone was coming to visit him. At times his excitement was uncontrollable. Never ever leave the front door open because Samson has learned how to unlock the glass storm door. Causing extremely long outings when he would escape. Oh beware of the water bowl, get near it when Samson is drinking you will receive a non requested shower. Many times I ask myself “what have I done”. This dog has taken over my life. Friends would advise me to find Sam another home. Some refusing to visit when Samson was not put in another room. I have been given several copies of the book and movie “Marley and Me”. However, the thought of actually giving him away would always make me sad. The “dog whisper’ became a weekly taped program. I would walk him every day, many times several times a day if were having visitors just to calm him down. I also had an older black lab named “Chester”. Chester took Samson under his paw, keeping Sam under control often. Chester loved Sam as his son. Samson loved Chester dearly. When we lost Chester, he died in my home on a cold Thanksgiving day. Samson and I grieved this loss together. Forcing a bond I never thought possible with this crazy dog. Then I realized, he isn’t near as bad as he is smart. that was the problem all a long, he needed challenged. So we went to work. Bought toys, balls, and a frisbee. Walk whenever we could. He begin to relax and enjoy life, not being so high strung. Oh yes, still a yapper. I can honestly say I am so glad I did not give Samson away or I would have never found out what a great buddy to me he is. Mistake..nah, he is the dog meant for me. Never get the top dog…so glad I did.

      • MaryAnne says

        My mistake is I forgot about Scars. I was rushed and out of town all week. So here it is:

        It’s a scar but not on her body. This small scar which hides within the soft folds of skin is barely visible. It changed the course of her life.
        She had to contend with this infidelity to truth. There are many kinds of infidelity – this enormous omission, not only caused her months of physical pain, it killed a light within. Darkness fell like a cheap dark shade.

        She had felt the frequency modulation sometimes — the intuitive knowing — but she didn’t think to tell those close to her, especially Robert, who worked at the United Nations, and had been her friend since childhood.
        It was unlike her not to put her love relationship under a microscope. Automatically, she did this with her friends but with Tim there had been this sudden intensity—fire igniting damp wood — which had warmed her at first and the blazing fire burned her questions. Her usual ways of operating fell off into ashes..
        It happened before he met her, but he should have told her. Did Tim think it wasn’t important? What about her efforts? Her physical and mental suffering? Where was his compassion…love? What was he thinking?
        It felt rotten and there seemed to be no remedy. His tag line when they parted after a huge fight was a whispered, “I’m sorry.”
        What was she to do with this? She could continue but she knew in her heart she was done.
        It had completely changed her feelings toward him and when there is a total change in the way a person views another, there is nothing one can do but walk away.
        “I wish you well,” she said turning away, I’m done!”

  2. Careen says

    After my beautiful mother passed away after suffering from a long illness that left her paralyzed from the neck down I found myself extremely depressed and lost. I had taken care of her for several years and I still swell with emotion when I think of that time and love we could show each other and the stories she shared with me. I would do it over again and again just to have her here to talk to. I’m still not completely at the place in my life where I can be comforted that she is gone and not suffering anymore, I still hurt and think with my heart. Maybe one day I will graduate to this.

    My Mothers passing left my father living alone. I do not love my father, but he is my father and he was getting on in years and his health seemed so much frailer without my mother. I was putting my two daughters through college and times were hard financially. A plan formulated in my mind, that I could take care of my aging father, perhaps learn to love him before he died and at the same time help my girls with money, if I moved in with my father. He was excited beyond comprehension, he couldn’t wait for the day, I suppose he was lonely and missing my mother.

    The same day I moved into my father’s condominium with him I could feel the mistake I was making, but the decision was done, I couldn’t turn back. Promises had been made to my children of financial help, and promises were made to my father, to be there for him.
    I could do it! I would do it!

    I tried to settle in and make myself at home. I talked myself into being happy knowing I was doing the right thing. As I was changing one day in my room I found that the door lock didn’t catch right. I made a mental note to fix that. Later that day my father broke what was left of that lock as he forced his way into my room, just because it was locked, because he could, and I remembered.

    Later, I heard the floor creak in the hall and as I turned to look to see if someone was coming to talk to me, I could see his one eye peeking in at me through the crack in the door and I chilled, and I remembered.

    One night, I woke up in the middle of the night to find an old man standing over me staring at me, and I remembered.

    My father tried forcefully to get into the bathroom as I showered and I screamed to let him know I was in there, and realized of course he knew I was in there, and I remembered.

    He became more and more angry, more and more controlling.
    No! That was not true, he was himself and I remembered.
    I remembered what I had thought was not really true!

    One day the target of his craziness was not me but my children. My girls.
    They had not been raised to ignore him, they didn’t “know better” so they didn’t. It was as if lightning truly did strike that family room that day as my daughters fought my father in my defense! Words flying like bolts, so strong, so powerful, and so scary.
    This could not be done! They didn’t understand!
    My ears starting ringing. I felt lightheaded, distant, and then it was as if everything sounded like echoes. I was numb. I was slow. I stared into space I tried to follow things but it was so hard.
    I climbed the stairs to my room, my girls followed to see if I was okay. I lay down in my bed, “I was fine”. I closed the door and stared into space the rest of the weekend, until Monday morning when I had a routine appointment with my Internal Medicine doctor to discuss cholesterol.

    My mistake, moving in with my father, opened the door to a private room in a psychiatric hospital, from this entrance I learned to remember, to talk, to cry, to feel, and I’m learning to love, I’m just learning.

    It is a one way door, you can’t go back.

  3. Lisa Bulman Taylor says

    Thankfully, some mistakes in life come with second chances… and third and fourth and fifths. When I was fourteen, the biggest mistake I made in life was to start drinking and drugging. I knew the consequences of drinking from growing up in a violent alcoholic home but decided on that warm summer day that the bottle of moonshine still had my name on it. Alcoholism emerged into a raging beast that near took my life over and over for the next 15 years. It ripped opportunities away from me and wreaked havoc in my life and the lives of everyone I touched. I had awakened the beast and had no idea how to put it back in the cage. I thought I could do it on my own. Every time I attempted to ‘quit’ and clear up the wreckage of my past, I would give in to addiction and start the whole mess over again. At the age of 29, it seemed like everything in my life was unraveling (even more so than usual) and I was at the end of myself.

    The doorway opened a crack when I finally admitted that I needed help. I admitted my mistake. But are mistakes really mistakes? Or are they just lessons to be learned from? I truly believe if I didn’t use drinking and drugging as a coping mechanism, I probably would have succeeded in committing suicide. It wasn’t the best tool for survival but it was one that worked for me for a long time.

    I still struggle with the disease of addiction but today I am in recovery. The past 10 years have been a roller-coaster of mistakes and relapses. When I stepped through the door to recovery, what I believed initially was a weakness and a mistake in my life has turned out to be the opening to a new life. My old life was wrought with mistrust and fear of people, hatred of myself and a disbelief in a higher power. The doorway to this new life is one of opening myself up to new relationships; with myself, with others, and with the one I choose to call God. Some days I step through the doorway with hesitation and other days I go bounding through like a child greeting a new day.

  4. Lee Meryl Senior says

    A little late, but am sending it anyway.

    A Door To The Unexpected

    By Lee Meryl Senior

    It was always my belief that everyone should own an old yellar. And, here he was, standing before me in the adoptable animal room at Pet Smart. The young couple
    hovering over him couldn’t contain their enthusiasm as they watched my contemplation of this beautiful animal.
    “We’d take him, but we already have a yellow lab.”
    I smiled. “I might,” I said.
    One of the trainers roamed into the room, saw my fascination with the dog
    and approached me.
    “Are you interested in this one?”
    “How old is he?” I asked.
    “Two,” she replied.
    Just what I wanted. I did not want to have to train a puppy. “What can you tell me about him? I asked.
    “He’s a really sweet dog, as you can see. Still a puppy, so he chews a lot.”
    Two years old and still chewing, I thought. That doesn’t sound good to me.
    I stepped away and looked at the other dogs in their cages.
    A small black and brown puppy, one ear up, the other flopping down, looked back at me. She had eyebrows. I was a sucker for dogs with eyebrows. I didn’t want a puppy. She sure was cute.
    “What kind of dog is she?” I asked the trainer.
    “A husky mix,” she replied. “Her name is Sarah. She was one too many in
    the litter, and the owner couldn’t keep her.

    I wondered why she was the one selected to go.
    “How old is she?” I asked.
    “Four months,” the trainer replied.
    “I didn’t want a puppy.
    “Can I walk her?”
    The trainer removed the pup from the cage, put her on a leash, and handed it
    to me. I really didn’t want a puppy.
    We walked around the store, in and out of aisles, before returning to the trainer.
    She was so cute. I didn’t want a puppy.
    “I’ll take her,” I said.
    After checking her out at the counter, I took her outside and put her in the front seat of my truck and headed home.
    Once we arrived in my driveway, I opened my door, and before I could stop her, Sarah jumped out and raced away.
    I chased her down the street and in and out of people’s yards, until I cornered her
    in one and took her home.
    Soon I discovered that Sarah was housebroken, seemed sweet, but had a few problems. She didn’t want to be told “no.” “Bad dog” sent her under
    the bed barking. She dug under the gate and got out of the yard. Chasing her became
    the norm. She jumped up against the arcadia door when she wanted to come in. Luckily she was still a puppy and the glass was strong. Once, after taking her for a walk in the park, I put her in the back of the truck and headed home, stopping on the way to show her
    to my aunt. I left her in the truck while I went to get my aunt. When we got back, Sarah
    was gone. She had pushed open the window and jumped out.
    The following day while I was creating posters to put up in my aunt’s
    neighborhood, I received a call from the pound. They had Sarah. When, I picked
    her up, she was covered in feces. A bath was called for. She didn’t want a bath.
    After two weeks, I decided this dog was not for me. I would return her to
    the pound. Then I thought, who would want her? A dog like this would never find
    a home. What could I do, but keep her? I began to think she had been abused.
    Over the years, Sarah created many problems. She was an alpha dog, and when she lay on her back and I tried to scratch her stomach, she loved it, but when she realized she was in a servile position, she jumped up. She ran away, but always came back
    after several hours of my worrying, She bit my husband constantly, occasionally bit me
    and once bit my brother when he was visiting, and tried to protect my granddaughter when she went for her food dish. Still, I kept her.
    But as she got older she showed many good qualities. She loved my 9 year old
    granddaughter and slept by the side of her bed when she stayed with me, protecting her
    from anyone who came near the bed.
    “I wish someone would come in and try to kidnap me,” my granddaughter said.
    “Then Sarah would attack him.”
    She loved all children
    Sarah was a very smart dog, and had a mind of her own, It took twelve years to convince her that I was the alpha dog, at which point she allowed me to cuddle her. I
    knew she loved me, although she still bit my husband.
    Sarah lived for fourteen and one-half years, and when it was time for her to
    go, it broke my heart.
    Six months after she was gone, I took a trip to Hawaii to visit my son. My
    husband was on the East Coast visiting his family and I came home to an empty house.
    But it wasn’t empty, Sarah was there. She told me it was all right that I put her down and I should get on with my life.
    Over the years, I have had many dogs, but I think Sarah was the one I loved the
    most.

      • Lee Meryl Senior says

        Putting animals down is hard. You never know
        whether it’s too early or too late. Sarah, who
        had displasure from the time she was two,
        could no longer stand (which was hard enough)
        but she would then be wobbly.

  5. Careen says

    After my beautiful mother passed away after suffering from a long illness that left her paralyzed from the neck down I found myself extremely depressed and lost. I had taken care of her for several years and I still swell with emotion when I think of that time and love we could show each other and the stories she shared with me. I would do it over again and again just to have her here to talk to. I’m still not completely at the place in my life where I can be comforted that she is gone and not suffering anymore, I still hurt and think with my heart. Maybe one day I will graduate to this.
    My Mothers passing left my father living alone. I do not love my father, but he is my father and he was getting on in years and his health seemed so much frailer without my mother. I was putting my two daughters through college and times were hard financially. A plan formulated in my mind, that I could take care of my aging father, perhaps learn to love him before he died and at the same time help my girls with money, if I moved in with my father. He was excited beyond comprehension, he couldn’t wait for the day, I suppose he was lonely and missing my mother.
    The same day I moved into my father’s condominium with him I could feel the mistake I was making, but the decision was done, I couldn’t turn back. Promises had been made to my children of financial help, and promises were made to my father, to be there for him.
    I could do it! I would do it!
    I tried to settle in and make myself at home. I talked myself into being happy knowing I was doing the right thing. As I was changing one day in my room I found that the door lock didn’t catch right. I made a mental note to fix that. Later that day my father broke what was left of that lock as he forced his way into my room, just because it was locked, because he could, and I remembered.
    Later, I heard the floor creak in the hall and as I turned to look to see if someone was coming to talk to me, I could see his one eye peeking in at me through the crack in the door and I chilled, and I remembered. One night, I woke up in the middle of the night to find an old man standing over me staring at me, and I remembered. My father tried forcefully to get into the bathroom as I showered and I screamed to let him know I was in there, and realized of course he knew I was in there, and I remembered.
    He became more and more angry, more and more controlling.
    No! That was not true, he was himself and I remembered.
    I remembered what I had thought was not really true!
    One day the target of his craziness was not me but my children. My girls.
    They had not been raised to ignore him, they didn’t “know better” so they didn’t. It was as if lightning truly did strike that family room that day as my daughters fought my father in my defense! Words flying like bolts, so strong, so powerful, and so scary.
    This could not be done! They didn’t understand!
    My ears starting ringing. I felt lightheaded, distant, and then it was as if everything sounded like echoes. I was numb. I was slow. I stared into space I tried to follow things but it was so hard. I climbed the stairs to my room, my girls followed to see if I was okay. I lay down in my bed, “I was fine”. I closed the door and stared into space the rest of the weekend, until Monday morning when I had a routine appointment with my Internal Medicine doctor to discuss cholesterol.
    My mistake, moving in with my father, opened the door to a private room in a psychiatric hospital, from this entrance I learned to remember, to talk, to cry, to feel, and I’m learning to love, I’m just learning.

    It is a one way door, you can’t go back.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

You may use these HTML tags and attributes: <a href="" title=""> <abbr title=""> <acronym title=""> <b> <blockquote cite=""> <cite> <code> <del datetime=""> <em> <i> <q cite=""> <strike> <strong>