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| An old story that needs to be retold‏.
This is a must read!
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, 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. | | |
| Well, we just bought a dog! Haha..
Today my friend was asking me where do I want to go/what I want to do. Told him I wanted to go Ikea, to walk around, and eat their chicky wings. He came over to fetch me, but suddenly he told me we are going to the pet farm at Pasir Ris instead. Okie..
There are many pet farms off Pasir Ris, near his company. Very very ulu place. We passby/explore there once in the middle of the night, when we had nothing to do. Heard many dogs barking. Hehe.
Actually I have been contemplating of getting a dog earlier on in 2007. My senior did once offered me a puppy from his friend, but I didn't agree with it as I wasn't sure and prepared for one. Neither am I sure and ready for one today. In actual fact, I am still shocked I got a pet dog now! Haha..
The choosing of my dog and buying of my dog was completed in less than half hour I think. And I didn't really choose, but just pointed and show my friend the one I like most among all the dogs there. He asked me to ask the salesman how much. Wah piang.. it cost $2.2k lor... very expensive! He was like "Orh, ok, buy lo." Diaoz. I thought he was crazy and just joking. But he wasn't. The sales person took the dog out for us to see/carry. And so I carried it. Then brought to a big cage, to show us how to keep him. At that moment I was still considering, and thinking he must be joking. Where on earth do I have such money to buy a dog leh... aiyo.. so expensive. Not say I can't afford, but I wouldn't really want to spend my spare cash in this way... So I just remarked on "Huh, don't want la, quite expensive leh.. really want buy a dog meh??" The salesman of course definitely say things like buying a dog depends on alot fate.. first you must like the dog, second the dog must be of suitable size and character, third is you would really take care, and last is the price. Then he went on about some customers who went away just a while, next moment the dog is sold.. blah blah.. Then my friend was there telling me he's going to pay half of it. Oh man, so I didn't say anything else, and the salesman carried the dog into the shop and take it as we agree to buy... ah.... so now there he is, sleeping in the cage besides me.. haha..
So, the salesman show us the things to buy for the dog. It is a big range of things.. and things are so expensive!!! Dog food.. nutrients for his growth.. supplements for his bones.. shampoo and conditioner... eye and ear drops.. cage... toy.. leash.. water bottle.. food bowl.. hair brush.. treats and sweets.. replacement liquid for mother's milk.. alamak... all add up to $1.3k.. almost fainted.. Then there's still this insurance for the first month, just in case anything happen to the dog, we can claim insurance from the pet shop.. $200. He gave us a discount of $200 for the dog.. 20% discount on the food and accessories.. add up still is an amount of $3000plus. Wah piang... a month salary leh...
Now my house is full of his stuff.. and of course his smell..
Oh yeah, yet to introduce my dog..
Breed: Japanese Spitz (imported from Australia though.. haha)
Birthday: 16th Sept 2007 (so only 3 months old now)
Colour: White
Name: yet to name him! Haha...any suggestions??
  
Isn't him so adorable? Aiyo.. When he walk around, he looks like those baby polar bear! Maybe we should call him bear bear? Hahaha.. or bearpaw.. or? My friend wanted to name him Spitzer, short form Spitz.. but it was difficult to pronounce somehow. Another name we thought was Pepper. Sounds interesting. Haha. I wanted to call him Xiao Dou Dou. Haha. Cute mah. How how? No name yet... hmmm... or Polar? Haha.. | | |
| Last Friday.. I just PERMED my hair.. Yes! Rebonded top part (till around ear) and curled the bottom. Big curls nice nice.. Kekeke! Cost $387 (perm - $330, cut -$32 then add on GST). Almost fainted when I looked at my bill...  And ya.. I permed my hair at my favourite salon.. Shunji Matsuo. I went to Tampines branch (it's called ICON by Shunji Matsuo), for the hairstylists there are younger, and less-experienced which means cheaper. Less experience is one thing, but they are young and trendy enough to know exactly what you want. And they didn't disappoint me this time round too!  Let me count.. My first hair cut there was last year I think, by a stylist Katlyn. She's good. Wonderful skills. And she's fast and precise. She used to be working at Tampines branch, but now she went over to Orchard branch le.. sad! Anyway, my second time was done at the Orchard branch (that's when I got to know Katlyn went over there). I went with Stong. That's my most expensive haircut!!! $65. Well, the receptionist did ask us any preferences to which hairstylists. Knowing none, and thinking Katlyn is at Tampines, we said "anything". I was assigned to an International Director, Jane. Hohoho.. I didn't know. And the hairstylist was kinda auntie-looking, dressed auntie-ly and at least 40plus in age. So I was kinda disappointed, and so afraid my hairstyle would turn out badly. I had a bad experience with this kind of hairstylist before (at Century Square STORM). And she's so slow.. haiz. Several times I have to ask her to "re-cut", for I felt my hair was still too thick, and feel almost exactly the same before the cut. Ah.. and you know having a haircut at a such salon cost at least $30, so it just not so worth it if there's not much difference. So took some time to finish and completely satisfied with it. And yah, she didn't disappoint me either actually. Your new hairstyle is always best looking straight after your haircut. And to judge whether a haircut is good or bad, usually depends on how easily you can get back the same look. Mine was easy, that's why I am satisfied  . So I went for my third time at Tampines branch instead.. cheaper la.. Just for a normal haircut. Trimmed, layered, but best is the stylist knowing I'm considering of perming instead of my usual rebonding, he volunteered to curl my hair with those hairstyling tongs that last temporary, just to let me have a feel/look of how I would look like with permed hair.  I feel bad in the end, cos his fingers sort of got "burnt" a little by the hot tongs while he was trying to curl my super layered hair.. you know there's many small strands sticking out. The curls were pretty! So cute and different to have curls. Haha. That's how I decided I wouldn't look too bad in curls. Haha. Oh well, I don't receive commissions from them for helping to give good reviews of them. But they are really good! Should try and you surely be very satisfied. p/s: Alot of my colleagues say my curls are pretty, and definitely worth the money though a little expensive. Heh! You can see my curls in my friendster, Pris.  | | |
| Going off for a long break.. somewhere. Hope to be back, refreshed. | | |
| Back here again after two months.. Been too busy at work ah.. Anyway, my workload is lighter.. Or rather I have become less hardworking, been going home earlier, and not working on weekends. Maybe I have enough of the nonsense at work, enough of my boss and senior. And another thing is I quitted Japanese, after so much struggle.. Stong was the one whom brought this issue up. We have been skipping classes frequently... just plain too lazy to wake up earlier on Sat morning. And yesterday was the first official Saturday we didn't attend class without feeling guilty. And in fact I become more productive, for I have much more free time at home. I got to clean my kitchen, cleared that choking basin for months I have been wanting to do. Next would be my untidy table, which is piled up with lots of my letters and stuff for the past one year or even longer! And wardrobe, which I have been wanting to shift it over from my old room (my bro is occupying it now) to my parents room (which have become mine). Many things to tidy up la.. hahaha.. But I may find new things to learn.... hehe | | |
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