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 revelled in pitting his strength against the forces of nature. He had entered gruelling 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 counselling 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 odour 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'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 duellists, 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 favourite 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.
Do share this with someone. Lost time can never be found.

i bawled my eyes out at this!!!
what a wonderful story!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
thank you SO much for sharing it

Dear shreyl,


         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.
Do share this with someone. Lost time can never be found.


                      Thanks for the above beautiful views over life and living, and for the wonderful story.  U are rite , really the story,  even made me cry.

it is a beautiful story
I did receive another story today from a friend - it is about a dog called Faith whose owner was going to have her put down as she was born with only 2 back legs and a stump for a front leg which had to be amputated I cannot put the pictures on here but this dog is truely an inspiration to what faith and love can achieve

This is 'Faith.'  His name is Faith!

This dog was born on Christmas Eve in 2002.  He was born with 3 legs - 2 healthy hind legs and 1 abnormal  front leg which needed to be amputated.  He of course could not walk when he was born.  Even his mother did not want him.
His first owner also did not think that he could survive.  Therefore, he was thinking of putting him to sleep.  At this time,  his present owner Jude Stringfellow met him and wanted to take care of  him.  She was determined to teach and train this dog to walk by  himself.  Therefore she named him 'Faith.'

In the beginning, she put Faith on a surf board to let him feel the movements of the water.  Later she used peanut butter on a spoon as a lure and to reward  him for standing up and jumping around.  Even the other dogs at home helped to encourage him to walk.  Amazingly, after only 6 months, like a  miracle, Faith learned to balance on his 2 hind legs and jumped to move  forward.  After further training in the snow, he can now walk like a  human being.

Faith loves to walk around now.  No matter where he goes, he just  attracts all the people around him.  He is now becoming famous on the  international scene.  He has appeared in various newspapers and TV  shows.  There is even one book entitled 'With a little faith'  being published about him.  He was even considered to appear in one of  Harry Potter movies.

His present owner Jude Stringfellew has given up her teaching job and plans to take him around the world to preach, that 'even without a perfect body,  one can have a perfect soul.'

I hope this message will bring fresh new ways of thinking to everyone and that everyone can appreciate and be thankful for each beautiful day that follows.

Life is the continual demonstration of the  Strength of Life!!  Thank you.

I hope you can maybe google faith and find the photos that were with this email I received

Oh my goodness. This story has made me cry. I too have been blessed with an Angel Dog named Roxy. Her job title maybe guide dog, but she's far more than that. Before having Roxy I refused to leave the house. The world had become so scary.I constantly bumped into thing and people or fell over. If I did go out it had to be with my mother. But this made me feel awful as I felt like a five year old holding my moms hand everywhere I went. I also suffered with panic attacks.

My mom in her infinate wisdom had enough and phoned for help in form of a local charity. A jewish lady came out and offered many ideas. At the last minute she said. "have you ever thought of having a Guide Dog?"

"No " I replied
"Why not"
"Because their for Blind people" I stupidly replied
"Oh that's interesting, what are you then??????"

After that, I agreed in looking into a Guide dog. After a 3 tests and a years wait I recieved a phone call from the guide dogs saying that they think they found the perfect match. Her name was Angie.

Our first meeting was 2 days later. My Jewish friend told me "all you have to do is keep up with the dog." Not difficult I thought. Out came Angie who felt  more like a donkey than a dog. The trainer put on the harness and gave me the handle. He told me the signal to go forward I repeated. Off went Angie, my head whipped back and my legs an forward. After my run around the block. The trainer asked "Well, how did you think that went?" Leaning up the car with my friends advice running through my head I replied "Oh fine, no problems" With a smile in his voice he replied "Great, If you don't mind I have another dog in the car, you wouldn't mind walking with her. She's been in the car for a few hours and it would be really useful for you to practice.

Is he kidding I couldn't go for another run round the block. "Yeah no problem"I replied. What else could I say.

Then out came this beautiful, shiny black labrador. Who did a tun and forwards stretched and bowed towards me. I swore I heard angels singing in the distance. "Oh gosh she's beautiful. Whats her name. "Roxy" he replied.

The rest is history as they say Roxy and myself have become inseparable. 2 years we have been together(we have recently celabrated our anniversary) and she has changed my life completely. I have attended collage getting 3 diploma's(anatomy and physiology, Indian Head massage and swedish massage) I'm also attending collage for Reflexology, crystal Healing and reiki.

Not a day goes by without meeting someone new and having a chat about Roxy. She has already saved my life twice. Once in nearly getting run over by a bus and secondly nearly falling down a three foot hole in the pavement where worker hadn't put any barriers up. I thank everyday that God had sent me one of his loving Angels.

Many Blessings
Kelly and Roxy