Pets that make you go hmmmmmmmmmm

I have been watching Marley and Me tonight.  This is a movie I swore I would never watch because I do not like the female lead.  And, besides, the book is always better and I read the book when it came out.  It was and is a truly remarkable book, and the movie is really funny.  Reminds me a lot of some of the dogs I have owned over the years.  No, I have never owned a dog like Marley!  But, some of his antics certainly look familiar.  LOL

There was Ginger I, the dog I got from Lyle Worley when I was 15.  My first "real" certified pure bred dog.  She was a beautiful German Shepard---good natured and protective. Ginger was my dog and I was her human.  Period!  The young man I had been dating at the time brought a Christmas gift and put it under the tree for me, and Ginger went and picked it up by the bow and took it back to him!  We were all shocked and then bust out laughing.  Ginger was my hero! Someone, who did not appreciate her protectiveness, decided to feed her cut glass in hamburger meat.  And, after a horrible night of agony, Ginger was gone.

Another of the many dogs I had the privilege of owning was King.  King was a chow and shepard mix.  A truly remarkable dog.  We aquired King when we lived in Sunnymead, California.  My step dad brought him home one day and we bonded.  King slept in my bed each evening, and when I wasn't looking he would beat me to bed and lay his big self in my spot and take the pillow...  Mom used to tell of how he would watch out the window each day for the school bus to stop across the field and then run to the door.  Once she let him out, he would bound through the waist high grass running to Richard and me.  It was funny to watch him as he would jump to see over the grass to determine where we were.  I loved that crazy talking dog!  Yep, he could talk.  When asked if he wanted to go out he would whine, " I wanna goooo  peeeeeeeeeee."  No, really he would!

We had a silly mixed breed when we were in Germany.  Her name was Queenie, and she was anything but Queen like.  She was definitely my step-dad's dog.  They would go out at night: he on his bicycle, and Queenie running beside him.  Bill enjoyed the pubs while stationed in Germany, and Queenie loved visiting them too.  Sometime after midnight they would stumble up the stairs to our fourth floor apartment.  Queenie always loved sleeping on the window ledge that was about 10 inches in width, and she would jump into the chair in front of the window to jump onto the  ledge; however, on the nights she and Bill visited the pubs, she would run to jump into the chair only to hit the side of it with her nose.  After several attemps, she would lie down on the floor next to the chair and pass out.  Definitely an alcoholic dog...

Richard was given a small black and white terrier when he was in high school.  We called her Tiny.  Tiny became Mom's dog.  She was always where ever Mom was.  They did everything together when Mom was home: watching tv, listening to the radio, cleaning house, washing clothes, hanging the clothes on the line to dry, and eating onion and mustard sandwiches.  On yes, as gross as they sound, that is what they ate!  I was never able to understand how, but, yep,they did!!!!

Tiny had one puppy that lived.  She looked nothing like Tiny.  Queenie II was a blond dog, much larger than Tiny, but every bit as goofy.  My husband and I took Queenie II and raised her with our oldest daughter.  Queenie was Claudette's little protectorate.  Once when Claudette was just a toddler, she heard her daddy's car coming ( he drove a Goliath, a small, loud German made car) and she started toward the street.  Queenie ran to her and stood in front of her to keep her back from the street.  Amazing the intelligence of some animals.

Rex adopted us when John was just a baby.  He, Rex, was a beautiful collie that decided he loved the noise and laughter from the Haynes house more than he loved his own house, so he would come hang out every day.  As soon as his owners would let him out in the morning, he made a bee line for our front door.  Rex stayed with us all day and would have to be coaxed home with food each evening.  One day, his owners said, "Why don't you just keep him?  He loves ya'al and seems happy to be with you, so if you want him, he's yours."  First time I was ever adopted by an animal!

Pepe Lapeu Hudson Haynes came into our lives  in the spring of  '78.  He was a Cockapoo who did not like the idea of being some nice, pampered pet.  He wanted the rough and tumble life of a ghetto dog.  LOL  I would take him to be groomed and he would come home and hide under the bed and refuse to go out.  He hated the blue bows and toe nail polish!  Pepe loved to run and play with the boys...  he could be seen following the bicycle, or running interference in a street football game.  Where ever the kids were playing, Pepe was right in the middle of it.  When Pepe was about 2 years old, a car followed him into the ditch on the side of the road and killed him.  A car load of teens thought it was "cute" to run over the little guy in front of the kids he loved to play with.

After Pepe, John came home with a black mixed breed we named Shadow.  Now, Shadow was quite a dog.  He was John's dog and would follow Johnny anywhere.  They walked hogs together; they walked steer together; they played sandlot football together; they annoyed other people together...  You name it: John and Shadow did it together.  Shadow left this world in the fall.  He sat near the north end of the yard facing the wind with John at his back.

Then we had Tigger, Jason's pit bull: by far the sweetest dog we ever owned.  Now, to set the record straight, Tigger hated cats and would chase them up the tree--literally, he would climb the tree about four feet before falling, but he would certainly try to get them in the tree.  He did, however, love my poodles.  Silver, the male, and Adrian, the pup, were his favorites.  Adrian could climb all over his head---in and out of his mouth--and he would never become angry or frustrated.  He was gentle with Booger and David, who were both quite young at the time.  Truly, a remarkable dog---one that did not live up to the reputation of the breed.  He was stolen one night and, as we found out later, taken to fight another pit.  He did not win...

Casper, David's American bull dog, was so named because he was solid white, except for one small dark marking.  Casper loved David and came into his life at a time when David was going through a dark and painful time.  A friendly and loving dog who brought much joy.  He, too, was later stolen and taken to fight.  He did not win either...  Why do people do this with dogs???

Zeus is the newest member to add to this list.  He is a two year old golden retriever: Ninety four pounds of love.  Zeus's former owner was being deployed to Iraq and Zeus needed a home.  I fell in love with him and brought him home to share life with me and Babi, my nearly blind Zhi Tzu.  Zeus loves to play and sit at my feet.  In fact he is laying at my feet while I type this.  He sleeps on his large doggy pillow next to my bed and keeps me company throughout the night.  One evening a few weeks ago, just before school was out, I flung myself across the bed and had a huge melt down.  I cried and wailed: my retirement was heavy on my mind and the break up was just too much on this particular night.  I needed a hug!  I needed someone to talk to... and there was Zeus.  This crazy lovable dog kept pushing his head under my hand trying to get me to pet him.  Each time I pulled my hand away, he would push his head back under my hand.  Finally, I just left my hand on his head...  I had him---my friend, my companion, and all would be well.  Zeus, you are nothing like the Marley in the movie tonight because you are so well behaved...
lol.  As I was thinking that earlier, I found a bookmark in his mouth.  No ordinary bookmark!  This bookmark had been given to me by my grand daughter a couple years ago and was a fuzzy, dog shaped bookmark.  Tonight, it is in pieces next to Zeus... Marley????

Billy--my new trainer

Here it is 10 days into my retirement and all I have done is have more fun than a person should be allowed to have.  I have made a trip to the valley (home), had lunch with friends, and spent a lot of time with the youngest of my grand children.  Looking forward to July because Brook and JP will be home from Germany for a spell and, hopefully, we will all  be able to spend some time with them.  There is nothing in the world greater than family, unless it is friends that have become like family. 

Tomorrow is Claudette's birthday, and it seems like just yesterday that I was sitting there watching a Sunday night movie about Saint Bernadette, when my mother convinced me to go to the hospital---just in case.  A beautiful, precious gift from God was born.  Happy birthday Baby Girl!
                                                    
                                                           Billy Flores
I first met Billy Flores in November of 2010.  I had stopped by the gym to do some walking and weights in preparation for my trip to Utah. (After all, I had skiing on my mind!)  I was using one of the machines when this truly buffed young man walks up to me and said, "Let me show you a better way to do that."  He told me to move my hands in toward the middle of the bar before pulling it down.  I did and, of course, it was much easier.  I asked him why the hand grips were so far out and he said, "watch."  He put his hands on the grips and pulled the weighted bar down with ease.  "Do you see the length of my arms compared to yours?"  I laughed!  We started talking and I discovered a remarkable young man beneath the muscles.

Billy had been in an accident several years ago that nearly took his life.  He broke the odontoid and C1 and C2 of his neck, and suffered a traumatic brain injury.  Once he was able to recognize people and understand what was being said, he was told he would never be able to lift weights again.  He said he determined to get better and back to his weights.  We talked at length about the similarity between his broken neck and my son, David's.  The determination both had, coupled with prayer is amazing.  I mentioned that he needed to write his story and share it with others.  He smiled and said that he has trouble focusing for long periods, so how in the world was he going to sit long enough to write anything, let alone remember the way to write.  That is where I come in, I smiled.

I didn't see Billy again until the end of May 2011.  I needed a trainer to whip this old body into shape so that the girl inside this old shell would at least feel like there was some hope.  lol  I called to see if he were at the gym and, if I could talk to him, and he said to come on over.  And, that is how it began.  I am so sore today; I feel as if I have jumped from a perfectly good airplane and landed hard...  and, my last session was Saturday!  I have another session tomorrow, and I cringe, a little, thinking of what may transpire. 

Talking with him as we train has given me some insight into what makes him tick.  He is a former Airborne Ranger, and as Jason has told me, "Mom, he really knows how to hurt a person."  LOL  But, with the discipline that comes from special forces and his determination to come back from a near fatal accident, I am convinced he is the one God has put in my path for such a time as this.  Hopefully, two things will come from this partnership: 1.  I will be in better physical condition than I have been in years, and 2.  I will be able to write his story.

So, here's to Billy Flores--- a young man who has suffered tremendously and come out on top because God has a plan for his life.

Tomorrow----  Boogerisms.  :-)

A Thankful Heart

I was looking through some of the "pages" I used to send out after moving to the hill country and decided to share this one with everyone.  There are many of them. and I may share others as time warrants.  This one was written November 23rd, 2005.  God is so great, and greatly to be praised.

 

 

 

 

It will soon be Thanksgiving morn, and there are many thoughts running through this mother's mind right now. I am thankful for so many things, but mostly for the opportunity to know and serve our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ.  Without Him I would be nothing and anything that I might possess would be meaningless.

 

I am thankful for each of my children and their families.  From the time David was a baby, I have called them my seven wonders.  Truly beautiful and talented each and everyone of them.  Where has the time flown? 

 

I am thankful for my brothers and the beautiful woman we called Mom.  She is at home in heaven, but she has certainly left her mark on our lives.

 

I am thankful for the church families I have had over the years.  From the early years at Royalwood Pentecostal Chruch, through the years at Faith Tabernacle, amid the healing years at Rio Hondo Baptist, and the short time at Shoreline, God has had His hand on my life.  To all of those beautiful people who have helped shape me into the Christian I am today, thank you.

 

I am thankful for all of my friends.  Where would one be without friends to share with, to laugh with, and to sometimes cry with?  To those who were there during the darkest days and those who were there when the sun began to shine, thank you from the bottom of my heart.

 

I am thankful for the principal who believed in me enough to give me my first teaching job.  For proving to me that there are no bad kids, just some who are more challenging.  And for every principal who came after, thank you for the opportunity to work with the most beautiful people in this world---our kids.

 

I am thankful for the years I have spent in the various places that I have been blessed to call home.  I am especially thankful for the years spent in Rio Hondo.  It was there that I became ME.  To some that may sound strange, but for so long I was not me, I was the shadow of someone else.  Through trial and error, joy and pain, I discovered that I am crafted by the hand of God and I love Him for His goodness to me.

 

I am thankful for my new career move and the truly wonderful commute to work each day.  I am overwhelmed by the sheer beauty of the Texas Hill Country.  The sun, moon, and stars have taken on a whole new beauty.  The tears that flood my eyes on a daily basis are certainly tears of joy.

 

I am thankful for my country: from sea to shining sea.  We are all blessed to live in such a wonderful country and, hopefully, we, as a country, will begin acting like we appreciate it. We can disagree without being vengeful and spiteful. 

 

I am thankful for the young men and women who are defending our freedoms.  Young men and women who will not gather with family and friends this Thanksgiving Day, but who will sit inside a tent or a building on foreign soil eating MREs or food from a care package.

 

I am thankful for the promise of a better tomorrow, either here or in heaven.  I am thankful for the steps of my life that the Lord has ordered.  And I am thankful for EMAIL, because it gives me opportunity to say to all I know and care about, "Thank you for the blessing you have been to me.  May God richly reward you for all the kindnesses you have shown to me."  HAVE A HAPPY THANKSGIVING

Musings I

     I have been retired for six days.  I do not think the reality of it has set in yet.  Life goes on...  It is not my desire to sit!  I believe there is more out there that I am being called to do, so the quest begins.  In the mean time I will write about the memories that I hold near and dear: some very pleasant, some not so pleasant.   The first is of Tom and his clock.  

     Tom came into my life the first day of school his freshman year.  A very complex young man, but one who stole my heart.  He had the appearance of one who might feel the need to exhibit a tough exterior but, in reality, he was as gentle as a lamb.
     He sat in the last seat in the second row from my desk: one that backed up to the wall.  He did his work most of the time, and always wore a grin on his face.  He was not one to talk as much as the others, but he was far from shy.  He just had little to say.  About two weeks into the year, I was nearing the end of my lesson for the day and knew it would be time for the bell soon, so I looked towards the clock only to see that it had stopped.  WHAT???  As I was standing there gawking at that clock like an idiot, Tom began to smile and smile big!  Looking at his left hand I noticed he had the cord to the clock held tightly in his fist.  That little rascal had unplugged the clock!  I said nothing as I looked to my wrist and checked the time.
    In just a matter of seconds, the bell rang and the students began collecting their things in preparation to leave.  Tom stood and plugged the clock in and took it off the wall to reset the time.  Neither of us said a word.  I just matched his smile as he left the room. 
     In the days and weeks that followed this became the norm.  I never saw him unplug the clock that entire year, but I did watch, daily, as he would plug it back in and reset the time.  It became our "little joke."  When the year came to an end, the students left for the summer and we all went about our business.  Tom was taken from us that summer in a tragic manner.  The horror of his leaving created a hole in my heart. 
     The following year, I watched over Tom's clock.  No one touched it!  When we moved to our new high school I asked to take the clock to my new classroom.  That clock went to every classroom I used while in Rio Hondo.  It hung on the back wall silently passing time until Travis accidentally pulled it down.  From that day on it was no longer silent.  It kept perfect time, but when the class was quiet, the clock was not.  Tom's presence may not have been seen, but it was certainly heard.  Love you Tom and may God bless your beautiful family with peace.