Love from LuckyPuppy at the Bridge

Dear Mom and Dad,

I'm at the Rainbow Bridge now. It's so beautiful here - I know you are very sad and your tears feel like the soft, gentle rain that fell while you were burying me this morning, swaddled snugly in the boys' old bedspread. Please know I'm running and playing like a puppy again. I have no pain. I don't limp or fall and the rabbits actually let me catch them up here! But I just play with them, because up here, they are special, too. All of God's creatures are free to run and play without fear. And I am no longer afraid of people with sunglasses.

My nearly 15 years of being a part of our family were the best any puppy could have had. I remember well the day Mom and KT came to pick me up after my birth mom was killed by a car and I had to fight my brothers and sisters for food in that barn. Yes, I was the runt, but KT knew right away I was meant for our family. She and the boys loved me so much; they never turned away my kisses. I always hated it when you sniffed my feet though. I never understood why you thought my feet smelled like Fritos.

Dad, the time we spent together was precious. Like sleeping very late, especially on cold winter mornings. And playing in the yard while you worked so hard to get the pond in tip-top shape for Mom. It's fitting that I should be physically buried in a place we all love so much. I loved laying under the crab apple tree and just feeling the cool grass on my tummy. (And while you were digging today, I heard you say you felt like Tony Soprano. Stop it, Dad, - not even close)!

I'm really sorry for the "stink bomb" I left on your new suit that day you took me along when you interviewed President Rawlings, just because I was a new puppy and you simply didn't want to leave me alone. And for all the "pupkiss" I left on the windows of your truck (except I agree with Mom - you never really noticed it). I just wasn't a very good traveler, but I sure loved being with you! I loved boat rides! And that present I left in your truck on our way up to Dr. Taylor's today? That was one last special gift to you!

Mom, you were the one who always walked and walked me. Wasn't that fun? I never got tired! Oh, the places we'd go! And when I got a little lame, you so gently carried me home, even though at almost 60 pounds, I know I was a bit heavy for you. But you just kept saying "You're not heavy, I'm your mother!" Remember when I ate the entire WonderRoast chicken you bought for Dad, bones and all? And how about when I ate all of Ben's graduation mints while you guys were at church - and threw them up all over the carpet just before the party? And yet I always felt forgiven, loved, and pampered. Especially these last few months when you made me chicken and vegetable stew since I couldn't eat my dog food. Not too many puppies have a personal chef. Those sweet potatoes were my favorite!

Yes, you are the best family any puppy could ask for.

You will hear my tags jingle, even now that I'm gone. You are not imagining it. I'm shaking them for you, just to tell you I love you, and to keep your chin up. I know you miss me terribly, and I miss you, too, but really, I am at peace and romping just like I did in this beautiful video Dad made in my honor.

Thank you for all of the gentle, loving care. A puppy was never loved as much as I was.

My paws are together in prayer; we will meet again.

LuckyPuppy

Tea today: Green with lemongrass

Our Waterfront, er, back Property

After many years of family boating and spending day after day on the water, it was always in the back of our mind that someday we wanted some waterfront property. When we built our home back in 1996, it came to pass. Sort of.

All I really wanted was the sound of running water outside our bedroom bay window on a cool evening, relaxing me to slumber. Little did I realize how much that sound conjures up the urge to get up every hour and pee.

With the house, I no longer had the passion for another place to keep up. What about a small pond with maybe a fountain and a couple of fish? Puh-leeez???

We had our landscaper plot out the pond and estimate the cost. Ouch. $4K for the sound of running water in my sleep was a bit too steep. So we borrowed the blueprints and said we'd think about it.

Ron Burgundy doesn't do anything small. Or easy. Or quickly. Bless his heart. The gradual hill that lingered in our back yard provided a vision that was not to be squelched. "How about we just build it into the hill a little? And have a little waterfall?"

"It's just a hole in the ground. I can dig it." Always the optimist, that boy. But dig it, he did.

The curious neighbors would come over and say "You're digging that with a shovel? Most people use a backhoe! Or at least a bigger shovel!" He'd smile and sweat and say "Almost done" while mumbling "It really needs to be deeper."

And deeper it got. When one waterfall didn't seem like it captured the corner of the yard quite right, he decided on two. He went around the neighborhood collecting huge rocks from lots that were being dug for construction. And he made a trip to Stone City for limestone, loading and hauling 2 ton of rock in a 1 ton truck, pulling a trailer.

All. By. Himself.

Our pond as an infant.

And at its midsummer best.

We added lots of plants, including carpet roses that have looked worse each year, I had one little corner for an herb garden (which has moved to patio pots except for the chives and spearmint I can't kill) and we bought two Koi and a baby fantail goldfish. Mary, Joseph, and baby Jesus. Fish have to have names, and these fish had personalities. You knew who was whom.

It took about 3 weeks for the disciples to follow, and after that, well, you know The Story. Literally thousands of followers. Including frogs.

Mary, and Joseph made it about 6 years - pretty remarkable considering our -20 degree Iowa winters (the temp below the frost line is a constant 50 degrees - so glad RB kept digging)! Jesus lived on, and after that we went with just fantailed goldfish - they were 19 cents a piece as compared to $30 each for the Koi. Only a few bit the dust by getting sucked up in the pump. But Jesus' legacy of thousands of fishes prevails. Haven't seen any loaves, yet.

Last year RB did a major overhaul when the liner tore and we lost most of our water, but amazingly, very few fish perished. So we he started over. He put in a bottom drain, new liner, new pumps, and restructured all the stone, including adding stone edging. It's a teenager now (like the bags of mulch?), full of fish (take some, please), thousands of tadpoles, and more chocolate mint than you can shake a weed-whacker at. Whew, that smells so good, especially when grows in the rocks by the falls. You can smell it all over the yard. You can come take all you want of that, too. But like a growing child, this project needs some serious discipline.

My obligatory Lantanas, the unknown plant in Luke's old football shoe for old times sake, and a new variegated sweet potato vine are about all we added. Other than a truckload of mulch. It will take a few weeks for the switchgrass to grow up, but my favorite part is the thornless hawthorne tree at the top. It has a unique clumped trunk and a perfect shape for shade.

This all puts my salad garden to shame - a simple two-foot strip behind the garage with mesclun, banana peppers, jalapenos, 2 heirloom tomatoes and one Better Boy.They usually don't make it to a state of ripeness because of my insatiable passion for fried green tomatoes. But we will have salad all summer for a 59 cent pack of seed. It's all we need.

Well, other than my herb pots! Can't live a summer without fresh Italian parsley (half of which I've already used so it better grow fast), cilantro (my favorite herb-crack), rosemary, oregano, thyme, chives, and of course basil to help flavor my favorites - wheat berry salad and barley-mushroom salad on grilled asparagus.

Tonight, I'm blessed with the lingering presence of LuckyPuppy, who is probably spending his last summer laying under the crabapple tree. With sweet potato still on his nose from lunch.

He's a little embarrassed to have his picture taken, being he's in such a morbid state. But despite the tumor on his schnoz, lack of meat on his bones, spring in his step, and sparkle in his eye, he knows he's loved. And he knows that once again tonight Mom chopped and peeled and stewed his vegetables for his wonderful homemade chicken soup. He even closes his eyes when you ask him to look at you, because then he thinks you can't see him.

And no doubt he's muttering "Why did I have to wait nearly 15 years and be so near death for her to feed me table food?"

And the two of us sit out there, listening to the waterfalls and think there is no more perfect refuge in the world today. There's no more perfect place to pray. Maybe that's why he has his eyes closed.

While his veggies were stewing, I slammed down half a Zola acai juice and I took a quick bike ride. On my way home, the sun was slipping behind the clouds, and I caught beautiful reminders of the One who gave me all of this exhilarating place I live. My legs were shot - I had not one smidgen of glycogen left by the time I hit the last hill for home, so it was a quick smoothie made with vanilla yogurt, blackberries, the other half of my Zola and a little ice. I guess that was supper. But these views, and returning to the sound of my running water made it all worth it.

Is this heaven? Pretty darned close. It's Iowa,



Tea tonight: Jasmine

Buddy the Dog or "What's for Lunch?"

This is my first time participating in Wendy's "Life is Funny." Join her for some giggles! No promises I'll be back next week. I'm a random blog carnee.

We waited many years to get a dog at our house. I never grew up with one, but since Ron Burgundy continued with his nightly prayers "God bless Duke, Scampy, the other Scampy, Cookie, Tiger, Becky Paulson....

Becky Paulson?? We need to find another dog for the prayer list and get that old girlfriend out of there.

So along came Buddy, a brand new pup born to my secretary's prize pooch. Beautiful purebred black lab. The cutest little puppy we'd ever seen. It was love at first lick.

We waited a few months to get Buddy feminized. Nobody's leg was safe in the house, and with the kids in high school, his humping was becoming a spectator sport fast.

I called on the local vet, who had been a friend of ours for years. I got the instructions - keep him without food from 10 pm on, and bring him in at 9 am. He'll be ready to pick up at 4.

When I took him in, I said to Dr. Phil (no joke) "So what do you do with those testicles, anyway?"

"We cut them off."

"No, I mean, do you just throw them away?" I'm not sure why I wanted to know. It was the nurse in me, I guess. I didn't want any part of illegal dispositon of body parts, and testicles in particular.

"We can save them for you if you like. Perhaps you'd like some lovely jewelry."

In the back of my mind, I knew Dr. Phil, and I knew he was up to something.

When I picked Buddy up at 4, I was presented with a very dopey dog and a white gauze package. Dr. Phil couldn't wait to see the look on my face.

When I unwrapped the gauze, there they were, in all their glory. Buddy's family jewels. Each one had a jumbo paper clip stuck through the narrow end, making some oh-so-gross earrings!

I laughed until I thought I'd cry. These were special.

I took them home, laid them on the kitchen counter, and couldn't wait to show Ron Burgundy Dr. Phil's handiwork. But alas, it was never to be seen.

Poor Buddy, starving from not having eaten all day, had a nose for raw meat. And after laying sleepily on the floor for an hour, he suddenly jumped up, placed his paws on the kitchen counter (he was a rather large black lab), and promptly grabbed those testicles. I was across the room and leaped toward him, but to no avail.

He was already eating them. I was able to wrestle the paper clips away - he didn't have much interest in them.

The testicles. Were. Gone.

In a panic, I called the vet, but the office was now closed and I got the answering service.

"I don't know what to do! My dog just ate his testicles!"

"Um, yeah, Ma'am, they do like to lick them sometimes, but they won't actually eat them."

"You don't understand...you see, Dr. Phil made me these earrings...." My voice drifted off. This could not be happening. "I'll call him at home. I need to talk to him now," and I hung up the phone.

"PHIL!!!" I screamed in the phone. Buddy just ate his testicles! What should I do??"

"He must be feeling better and he's hungry. I'd feed him if I were you."

Tea tonight: White cantaloupe

The Rally

About this dying dog we have living in our house.... the one who blogs and for whom I've made a fresh vat of home made soup every week since December? Well, we took him to the "spa" (aka boarded him at the vet) over the weekend while we were out of town. First of all, they were shocked that he was still alive because he was supposed to have been gone months ago. They must have figured we disposed of him illegally (**cue cremation ash cannon here**).

Well he's apparently using some of our cat's nine lives, because she's so lazy she hasn't even worn out her first one yet. I expected him to come back from the spa all depressed with bloody paws from nervous chewing. I carefully packed his lunches and suppers (doggy hospice soup) because he wouldn't be able to eat spa kibble. We packed his favorite blanket, so if he died while there, it would be in a familiar "spot."

But no.

He came home with a bounce in his step and a gleam in his eye and some new arthritis medicine that was disallowed under my FSA. Seems to me if we can make gay marriage legal in Iowa, we should be able to put our pets on our health insurance. All is fair in love and yard apples, right?

Then the low blow...the vet told Ron Burgundy that "the better the soup smells the more he'll eat" and "he'll have a hard time chewing."

Let's get this straight. Lucky quit eating his kibble because he couldn't chew and even softened with beef or chicken broth, it did not appeal to him. He could no longer drink water because his mouth and tongue just can't handle the thin consistency. The soup is made from all fresh vegetables cooked to tender, chicken, and frozen egg noodles. TONS of vegetables and a whole chicken, stewed with all the bones to bring out the flavor, and just a pinch of salt to extract the flavors. No, it's not seasoned with thyme, marjoram, a bay leaf or a shot of hot pepper flakes like if I was making it for us. But he pants and drools and stands underfoot the whole time it's cooking. He waits patiently by his bowl to eat. He licks the "place mat" in front of his bowl if it's empty to get every last bit. And his coat is the healthiest and shiniest it's been in years. His coat loves chicken fat, apparently.

But the vet apparently doesn't think it smells good enough.

I wonder if he tasted it?

Yeah, it needs more salt. Just don't tell Lucky.

Somebody forgot to tell him he's dying, too.


Tea tonight: Green Ginger

The Community of GOD (or spell it backwards if you must).

Do not read this if you are not a dog lover. You will be bored out of your mind, and you will think I'm out of mine.

Sometimes we do things that seem so stupid to others. A waste of time. Or important things to you become habits. Like brushing your teeth, pouring your coffee (or so they say, I've never had a cup), or tying your shoes.

And emailing dogs.

Lucky's been doing it for several months now, after he joined Doggyspace. He has special friends like Jack-Jack, Sandy, 12, Chappy & Whiskey, Kane, and Sierra, just to name a few. There are even friends like Moses who are already at the Rainbow Bridge and tell him how wonderful it is there, how he will run like a puppy again when he gets there. They are doggie bloggers. They are not people. They type and they send (virtual) gifts like bones and frisbees and basketballs, and they have favorite sports teams like the Cubs, the Michigan State Spartans, and the Arizona Cardinals.

So when Lucky responds to these emails, it is not me.

It is Lucky. And he so dearly loves our new friends.

I know they are real dogs and not blogging people. They talk about their "furiends" and their "pawrents" and pray with "paws together." They send quick messages like "OMD" and "BOL" and even "ROFBOL." They tell you what a "pawsome" friend you are and mail you bandannas purchased from non-profit organizations that care for hungry, hurt puppies. Someone is always there to give you a "Paws Up."

These dogs have been raised by loving pawrents parents, so they have learned well. They have Doggy Prayer Chains, Secret Paws, and a Cheer Up Campaign headed by Gizmo, which is much like my Bible study group at church. They know when Lucky needs some cheering up, and the emails just keep coming. And then Hans at the Bridge or Moses shows up with encouragement like "keeping my angel wings around you" and you know that yes, everything will be ok in the end.

They ask "can you ask your mom to send me the recipe for your soup?" and "are you snuggling with your mom and dad tonight?" And when he has "accidents," they tell him how much his pawrents love him anyway and not to feel bad. They even send tips on how he can clean the inside of my computer screen, just in case he gets too much pupkiss on it.

They even have their own private jokes, like The Community Service Haircut or The World's Smartest Dog.

Lucky always responds from his heart. When he's sad, it shows. When he's peaceful, it shows. When he's restless, it shows. He wears his heart (and mine) on his paw.

And as he's dying and moving closer to the Rainbow Bridge, well, that shows, too.

When Lucky gets on this computer, it means he needs his friends, and he's in the zone. So don't you dare bother him, or for heaven's Bridge's sake, change your password without telling him. He'll give you the stink-eye, for sure.

Doggyspace isn't addicting, but getting into the heart of my dog in his final days sure is.

Note to Lucky: please drink some water tonight. Please? It's been 3 days and you are very dehydrated. Moses and Hans say you're not quite ready to visit them yet.

Wondering When

MAKING THAT FINAL DECISION TO SAY GOODBYE
- author unknown -

You're giving me a special gift,
So sorrowfully endowed,
And through these last few cherished days,
Your courage makes me proud.
But really, love is knowing
When your best friend is in pain,
And understanding earthly acts
Will only be in vain.
So looking deep into your eyes,
Beyond, into your soul,
I see in you the magic, that will
Once more make me whole.
The strength that you possess,
Is why I look to you today,
To do this thing that must be done,
For it's the only way.
That strength is why I've followed you,
And chose you as my friend,
And why I've loved you all these years...
My partner till the end.
Please, understand just what this gift
You're giving, means to me,
It gives me back the strength I've lost,
And all my dignity.
You take a stand on my behalf,
For that is what friends do.
And know that what you do is right,
For I believe it too.
So one last time, I breathe your scent,
And through your hand I feel,
The courage that's within you,
To now grant me this appeal.
Cut the leash that holds me here,
Dear friend, and let me run,
Once more a strong and steady dog,
My pain and struggle done.
And don't despair my passing,
For I won't be far away,
Forever here, within your heart,
And memory I'll stay.
I'll be there watching over you,
Your ever faithful friend,
And in your memories I'll run,
... a young dog once again

Tea tonight: Young hyson

Doggone "C" word

Lucky's not feeling well today. But probably better than I am. He seems to have a better peace about him than I do. ***heavy sigh***

Tea today: Genmaicha

Weather Fit for a Dog

They say animals know more than we think they do. If the truth is known, they probably know more than we do. Usually on nice days, Lucky likes to be outside for prolonged periods, but only if someone is within sight of him. Go around the house with the pruners in hand, and he's a barking, whining, canine fool.

But not yesterday. Or today.

By 0800 he knew it would be a beautiful warm fall day. He had already been outside 4 times. Either he didn't get his business done, or he forgot he'd been out. Whatever, he just stood by the back door looking back at me expectantly to let him out again,while I was perusing all the good wishes from him friends at Doggyspace. People who blog may have their quirks, but dogs who blog are really special. (OK, I know how stupid that sounds, but stick with me - see for yourself - he does!)

I let him out yesterday afternoon while I baked cookies (OK, now my friends think I've really lost it! Me? Cookies?). He literally sat in the yard, wandered the length of his cable, laid under the crab apple tree, sniffed the wind, pinned his ears back - for about 45 minutes. Today I made a chop-a-lot salad for an exciting tailgate tomorrow, and there he was again. Sniffing. Wandering. Lounging. For over an hour.

Thousands of thoughts went through my head as my Kitchen Aid twirled the dough, I chopped away (knuckles in perfect position) and I watched him from the kitchen window. Is he taking in these beautiful days, thinking they are among his last? Is he looking for the entrance to the Rainbow Bridge? Why is he so content out there all by himself for the first time ever in his long life? If I unhooked him from his cable, where would he go?

I couldn't risk that. He's nearly blind and deaf. But oh, how I wondered.

He knows I'm writing this. His nose is resting on my leg as I'm typing, almost as if he wants to tell me what to say.

Perhaps if I trim his nails, he can say it himself. I'm the Lucky One.

Tea today: White cantaloupe

I AM Better Off Than I Was 4 Years Ago...

And it has nothing to do with politics, government, the President, the war, the economy (duh!) or the country at large.

It's all about me.

OK, so my retirement fund hit the skids, my bonus from work was worth less than the "Jelly of the Month" Club, my fitness level and core strength really took a nose dive, and most of the old clothes I took to the consignment store were rejected for "lack of style and excessive wear" - so they went back in my closet.

But oh, my heart is better. And my soul. I've become more faithful. I trust God implicitly to take care of things (like retirement funds, family. friends) and He has, I worry less, I pray more, I've really given Him a huge load these past couple of years and am trusting He will continue to carry it for me.

No matter what the outcome of this election, despite all the promises of CHANGE by both parties, I'm confident in my God who is the same, no matter who rules the country, no matter what the stock market does, and no matter if I have a job when I return from vacation. He never changes, and I'm so grateful.

He's got me - right where He wants me. Wouldn't have put myself here, but His plans are wiser than mine.

I the LORD do not change. So you, the descendants of Jacob, are not destroyed. Malachi 3:6

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

So I rush down like a groupie this morning to see "Meet the Press" where Ron Burgundy was allegedly to get an interview with McCain, but got the classic brush-off and a stern warning from the Secret Service to "hold it up here, sir" as he tried to chase him down. But the most exciting groupie part was seeing our friend Tom Brokaw again after 20 years. He hasn't changed a bit. Still as kind, professional, and ordinary as ever. Graciously signed his book "A Long Way Home" for us. Couldn't pass up the photo-op. And I even got kisses from his dog Red who came along for the trip so they could go hunting.

Not Just Any Old Dog - MY Dog

I am in awe of dogs blogging. Yeah, they really do. And they do a woof woof job of it, too. Ever since Lucky signed up for Doggyspace and joined the Puppy Prayer Chain group, my email has been flooded with good wishes for us. Dog owners are so special. Dogs are so special. There are thousands of poems written about family dogs and their demise. Lucky's still with us and has good and bad days, but he's become more "clingy" and I'm fearing he's starting to tell me things I really am not ready to hear. I will continue to listen attentively.

The Last Battle
If it should be that I grow frail and weak

And pain should keep me from my sleep,

Then will you do what must be done,

For this -- the last battle -- can't be won.

You will be sad I understand,

But don't let grief then stay your hand,

For on this day, more than the rest,

Your love and friendship must stand the test.

We have had so many happy years,

You wouldn't want me to suffer so.

When the time comes,

please, let me go.

Take me to where to my needs they'll tend,
Only, stay with me till the end
And hold me firm and speak to me
Until my eyes no longer see.

I know in time you will agree

It is a kindness you do to me.

Although my tail its last has waved,

From pain and suffering I have been saved.

Don't grieve that it must be you

Who has to decide this thing to do;

We've been so close -- we two -- these years,

Don't let your heart hold any tears.

~ Unknown

Tea tonight: Jasmine

Why I Love Lucky

Dogs
They never talk about themselves but listen to you while you talk about yourself, and keep up an appearance of being interested in the conversation.
~Jerome K. Jerome

Tea today: Hy-Vee cheap stuff

Doggone It.

It was, quite simply, only a matter of time.

How many of us live long past 90? (How many of us want to?)

Certainly not dogs who aren't expected to live past 70. And not our precious Lucky.

We got the news today that our 90+ year old puppy has cancer in the bone above his upper teeth. He has a visible tumor on his schnoz, but we thought it was an abscessed tooth (and so did the vet). When he went to pull the tooth today the bone above it sort of fell apart.

That's when they realized this was more than a dental problem. It was a large tumor.

Way down deep, where we haven't hurt in a long time, our hearts ache. A shared family sadness, reminiscent of Buddy and the day we lost him. An end too near to even want to think about. An end that I pray is calm and peaceful for Lucky and for us. A pain-free end. And I hope he tells us when he is ready. I so wish I knew Lucky would be in heaven with me, but I'm not so sure. The scripture has a few things to say about that, but that's in God's hands. All I know is that He loved us enough to bless us with Lucky for so many years. God is so good.

"The one absolutely unselfish friend that man can have in this selfish world, the one that never deserts him, the one that never proves ungrateful or treacherous, is his dog."

~George Graham Vest

No tea tonight - can't swallow :(

Prayers Please

Looking for some answered prayers - Lucky is having some surgery tomorrow. Why do I say "answered?" He always answers.

Yes....No.....Not Yet

Which will it be?

Tea today: green with lemongrass

cOrN dOg.

Lucky loves it when I freeze corn, or when I fix anything, really. He's underfoot whenever I have a knife or spoon in my hand. He knows my antique electric (is that an oxymoron?) knife will make some random moves and throw a helping or two his way. He stands with his head between my legs to catch the kernels as they fall on his snout. He slurps and licks and my kitchen floor is as clean as a whistle when he's done. The green beans and tomatoes? Not so much. And if he looks at me saying "More, please?" he knows I'll throw him an ear of corn all his own. Golden gems for a puppy in his golden years. I have to be careful, though, because he's terrified of the silks! I guess that's the weiner in my little corn dog. Iowa State Fair's got nothing on my corn dog!
Tea today: Young Hyson

Visit Lucky's DoggySpace page

Lucky said he needs some new friends, so I fixed him up with his own spot on DoggySpace. Stop by and visit! He would sure like some of his friends to join him, too!
Tea tonight: Genmaicha

Broken and Beautiful

This is one of my favorite songs by Mark Schultz. I really love all of his songs and feel so blessed to have met and talked with him in person when he did a concert last year in Iowa during his "Mark Across America" tour for the James Fund. He is so genuine, so real, and just an awesome person. Not too shabby at song writing and singing, either! Don't ever miss a chance to see one of his performances. I'd give anything to go see him in Iowa City next week :(

As I was trimming the hedges this week, that song just wouldn't leave my head. You can hack away at shrubs and get rid of all of the gangly, useless branches that detract from that neatly manicured look, and no matter how deep the cut, no matter how big the "oops," they will bounce back. Re-bloom. Re-leaf. Re-branch. Sort of like us - we get hurt and broken and violated but through God's grace we come back. Most of the time, more beautiful, but always, with His help, stronger. We know we can depend on the strong roots and nourishment He has provided for us.

Though people are really the true testimony to Broken and Beautiful, one that reminds me every day of this is my flowering crab, or "Aunt Crabby." Most of my plants have names. Harold reminds me of this song a bit as well. But this tree we planted was so beautiful, so perfect, until the ice storm of 2007 that made it so heavy that it split smack down the middle. A huge part of the tree was gone. Broken. Lopsided. Unable to bear the cruel icy burden cast upon it and the winds that finally brought it to submission. In the spring, we took the chain saw and finished off what was hanging there, leaving a huge scar, a wispier tree, and lots of hope that it would somehow bud and blossom again. It did. The leaves are actually a deeper green now, with a crimson gloss on the undersides. The crab apples are more bountiful, and the view from inside the house allows me to see my pond a lot better. It was supposed to happen. And it happens to all of us. Whether someone has intentionally taken a "Hedge Hog" to you, or whether it's God's will, it happens. I don't remember praying for that tree, but I have certainly prayed for the brokenness in our lives and the healing that follows. The scar on that tree is tough and healed, but always a reminder that "He is the vine, we are the branches." And as I write this in the cool Saturday breeze while sitting near that tree, my puppy, who is walking on all fours with only a barely discernible limp, is also reveling in the healing of the broken. A few days ago I imagined us burying him under that tree by now. How foolish I was to think that His plans were not mine.

Where do you see God's healing? How has He spoken to you lately?

Tea today: Tazo Green Ginger

Heeling.

I laugh at one of my friends who always charts about how patient's wounds are "heeling" since I'm such a stickler for spelling. I usually say something like "His dog's here, too?" - just to get us giggling. So it's important to note that since the Healer has come into my home once again and helped my puppy turn a big corner today, that this post is aptly titled.

I took Lucky out for his morning visit to the yard in a sling made from a pillow case, because he couldn't walk. He was so disoriented and couldn't bear weight on his front legs. His back feet are still bandaged, and the mysteriously disappearing bandages of earlier this week are the only thing he's eaten since last Friday. We have yet to see them digested. I did the mom/nurse thing and bathed his feet in soapy water and diluted peroxide and re-bandaged them. I brought him a bowl of fresh water and gently slid an aspirin down his throat. I decided he was just hurting all over and surely an aspirin would help. I also think he had some PTSD from being in a strange kennel last weekend. Tonight he's SO much perkier and gingerly ate about 1/4 cup of food for me. And at one point he purposefully came to the kitchen to see what I was doing. Hooray! I've never been able to get this dog to heel, but God sure helped him heal. Thank you, Lord. I was not ready to let him go just yet but he was sure acting like he was ready.

Tea tonight: Young Hyson

Sick as a dog.

My stomach is in knots tonight - perhaps if there weren't several things hammering on my heart it wouldn't feel so sickening. But the sad, whimpering, helpless puppy next to me curled up on the "boat blanket" on the couch just breaks my heart. He won't eat. He can't walk. He has two bandaged bloody feet that I really think are the least of his problems. He twitches and shakes like he has a palsy of some kind. I had to carry him outside (no small feat) to go potty because he couldn't walk to the door. He can't tell me anything, but keeps turning his sad brown eyes my direction as if to say "Help me, Mom. You're the nurse around here." I know he likes to be cuddled and have his ears stroked, so that's about all I can do for him. I did give him an aspirin, thinking that if I could keep him away from chewing on the bloody feet, at least the rest of him might feel better. I wonder if his stomach feels like mine. Empty. There's no way a morsel of food would stay down tonight. Or even make its way down. Pray for Lucky puppy. He is, after all, 98 years old, but I just don't want him to hurt or feel scared. Even Snickers knows something's up - she's hovering around him like she has a job to do. If God takes him, I can accept that, but please oh God, make it be painless. And please tell me all good dogs go to heaven. I know You're hurting, too -2 Corinthians 1:7. Wow.
No tea tonight - won't go down.

The Lucky One

Yeah, it's a song (what isn't?) but my puppy scared me today when I couldn't get him out of bed. He's getting old, and has some sort of canine dementia setting in. Usually he follows me around and does "laps" around whatever room I'm in. Today was different. Ronnie was gone early for a meeting, and Lucky just laid there. Quiet. Looking at me like he might have known me in a different life, but not right now. There was no moving him. "Treat," "Outside," and "See the bunny?" didn't faze him. So I left for work, praying that when one of us got home he'd be romping around the house and not even caring if he peed in the house, either. I just wanted him there one more day. By noon when Ron came back Lucky was again doing (limping) laps and (slipping) sprawls on the tile floor, and all was sorta well with the world. He is such a loyal friend. I want him around for one more blooming of the rhododendron. We've shared 13 of them. I'll take one at a time.

"Dog" is "God" spelled backwards. I'm glad they're both in my life.

Tea today: "Snow Water Green Cloud"