The Old Man and his Dog

[Heavyduty053]

 

 

               "Watch out!" My father yelled at me. Can't you do anything right?. Those words cut like a knife and hurt worse than blows to my body. I turned my head toward the elderly man in the front seat beside me, daring myself to challenge him. A lump rose in my throat as I averted my eyes in full contact with his. I wasn't prepared for another battle of arguing. So all I said was, "I saw the car coming Dad, and Please don't yell at me while I'm driving". My voice was measured, sounding far calmer than I really felt. Dad just sit there and glared at me then turned away and settled back. It may have scared him a little but he knew I was right about the yelling.

               When we got back home I left Dad in front of the TV 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 as well. What am I gonna do about him?. Dad had been a lumberjack in the states of Washington and Oregon and he had enjoyed being outdoors and had reveled in pitting his strength against the forces of nature and man. He had entered grueling lumberjack competitions and had placed well often.

               The shelves in his house were filled with trophies that attested to his powers, but as time has marched on relentlessly, it has taken a toll on his body strength. 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 so irritable  whenever anyone teased about his advancing age, or when he couldn't do something he had once 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 his blood and oxygen flowing.

               When they got to the hospital  they wheeled him into the surgery right quick. He was lucky: he survived...but something in him died that day. His behavior, his outlook on life was non caring anymore, seems like it was natural to him and he didn't recognize how mean he was to others. His zest for life was gone. He refused to follow doctor's orders. Even Suggestions and offers of help with things was turned aside with sarcasm and insults. The number of visitors begin to thin and then finally stopped altogether. Dad had made himself a prison inside himself and all of it was his doing. Dad was finally alone.

               My husband and  sat down and agreed to ask my Dad to come live with us. We lived on a farm and we thought maybe just being able to get out around the animals and the fresh air would help. We thought maybe that would help things a little. It wasn't long until I regretted my decision. He criticized  everything we did to try to help him. Seemed like the inside of him had turned so cold hearted it was awful. Soon it was causing my husband and I to argue over many things we never did before. I loved my dad but I could not cope with this. Alarmed my husband sought out our pastor and explained the situation. He of course set up weekly counseling appointments for us. At the close of each session he prayed asking God to intervene and sooth 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 poured through the yellow pages. I explained my problem to each of the sympathetic voices that could talk a few minutes and talk with me. Just when I was about to give up hope the last one I talked to told me to go and fine my Dad a dog, not just any old dog but an older dog maybe not so healthy in some way. He said, that he had just read an article that a study was done doing this, connecting people with chronic depression and their attitudes improved over a short period of time when they were given the responsibility of a dog like that.

               That afternoon I drove to the animal shelter, besides it couldn't hurt. After I filled out a questionnaire, a unformed officer led me to the kennels. The odor  of disinfectant stung my nostrils as I moved down the rows of pens. Each contained five to seven dogs. they all was trying to tell me to take them home. I studied each one as I went down the isle. As a neared the last pen a dog in the shadows of his far corner struggled to his feet walked over slowly and sat down by the gate. It was a pointer, one of the world's great breeds, but time had taken its toll on him. Years had etched his face and muzzle with shades of gray. His hipbones stuck out in lopsided triangles. A specimen of health he wasn't but it was his eyes that caught and held my attention. He was quiet, looked like well behaved, I guess he wanted to be taken out an loved but he probably knew he wouldn't be. I asked the officer to tell me about him.

               The officer looked at him and then looked at me and shook his head in amazement. "He's a funny one, appeared out of nowhere and one morning we found him at the our gate. We brought him in figuring someone would be around to claim him. That was two weeks ago and no one spoken a word. His time is up tomorrow, he will be put down. "You mean your going to kill him". Mam we can only keep animals so long and then he dispose of them in a humane manner. I looked at the point again and it was almost like his eyes was fixed on me asking me to help. His calm brown eyes help me make the decision to carry him home for Dad. I drove the dog home on the front seat beside me and he was licking me all over saying thank You. When I reached the house, I pulled up out front 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! Dad looked at the old dog then wrinkled his face in disgust. "If I had wanted a dog I would have gotten one, not only that but I would have picked out a better one than that".  don't want that bag of bones, you brought it home you keep it, then he turned and walked back in the house.

               This was expected of him given how he has been acting lately. Although it did raise some anger In me and I squeezed together my throat muscles to keep my cool at the moment. I yelled out so Dad could hear me, "You better get used to him because he is staying". Dad ignored me and I said it louder, Did you hear what I said. At those word's Dad whirled around angrily, his hands clenched at his sides, his eyes narrowed and blazing with what seemed like hate for me since I had never came against him that way. We stood glaring at each other like duelists, when suddenly the old pointer pulled free from my grasp. He wobbled toward my dad and sat down in front of him, just sitting there wagging his tail, not offering a bark or anything, then slowly but carefully raised his paw wanting to shake Dad's hand.

               Dad's lower jaw trembled as he stared at the old dog with his paw offered in friendship. the pointer waited patiently, then all of a sudden dad dropped to his knee's and hugged the dog and started crying. It was the beginning of a warm friendship. Dad named the dog Cheyenne. Together he and Cheyenne explored the community and our farm. They spent long hours walking down dusty gravel roads, sitting by the stream on our farm just watching the fish swim. Eveywhere they went dad walked slowly so Cheyenne wouldn't feel like he couldn't keep up. Dad's bitterness faded over time and he actually begin to show a little love about him. One night I felt Cheyenne's cold nose burrowing through our bed covers. He had never left beside Dad's bed and came into our bedroom before so I went to see what was the matter. There my dad laid with his spirit leaving him a little while ago with his arm and hand over the side of the bed as if petting Cheyenne one last time. Even though Dad was there, Cheyenne continued to sleep beside his bed and two evening's after Dad passed I went in to check on him and Cheyenne was dead laying on the rug that he was his place each night. My husband and I wrapped his still warm body in the rug that was his bed and carried him down to his and Dad's place of comfort, the little stream on our farm and there we buried him. I silently thanked the Cheyenne for coming into our life and helping Dad sooth his troubled mind. The morning of Dad's funeral it was overcast and dreary. this day looks like the way I feel, I thought as I walked down the isle to the pews reserved for family. I was surprised to see that many of Dad and Cheyenne's friends had come filling the church. the pastor begin his eulogy, it was a tribute to both of them who had changed each others life. Then he turned to the scripture of Hebrews 13:2 "Do not neglect the hospitality to strangers, for by this some have entertained angels without knowing it". I thank God everyday since then for sending that angel. Cheyenne was a blessing just waiting for his purpose to be useful.........Cheyenne's unexpected appearance at the animal shelter gate almost two weeks before I was there, his calm unhealthy appearance and complete devotion to my father...and the proximity of the timely deaths with each other. I suddenly understood how God works in ways we will never begin to understand, but to our good if we seek it. He had answered my prayers.

              

[fringe on lamps]

Thank you HeavyDuty. 

[pokerplayer]

Very nice Heavy, thank you very much for sharing this with all of us.

 

   pp

[Heavyduty053]

Just call me Heavy

 

[boosterbglee]

Thanks....Heavy!

[nannab]

Good morning Heavy. +++++ pluses