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Puppy
Letters to
Mom
O'Poodles
Resourceful
Dog Links....
*Genetic
Testing..OFA
explained
*OFA
Hip Grades w/ easy to understand diagram
*Pennhip
Explained
*Sebaceous
Adenitis
*Bloat
*Poisonous
Common People Food
*Emergency
Stress Kit
*Disease
Information
*Vaccine
Awareness
| Prescribed by the
Great Physician A GREAT RECIPE Fold two hands together,
author unknown |
Inspiring Allegories and More
Table of Contents (click
link to read)
Hospital
Window
A
Christmas Gift
Are
You BUSY?
Have
Lunch with God
Pawprints
on My Heart
Jesus
and the Mud Puddle
Clean
Blood
The
Rainbow Bridge
The
Filing Room
The
Heart
Meet
Me In The Stairwell
My
Attorney
Footprints
The
Geese
A
Russian Christmas Story "For Always"
What
Lies On The Other Side
In
God We Trust....A Different Perspective
The
Cookie Thief
Twenty
Truths To Live By
Hospital Window
Two men, both seriously ill, occupied the same hospital room. One man was allowed to sit up in his bed for an hour each afternoon to help drain the fluid from his lungs. His bed was next to the room's only window. The other man had to spend all his time flat on his back. The men talked for hours on end. They spoke of their wives and families, their homes, their jobs, their involvement in the military service, where they had been on vacation.
Every afternoon when the man in the bed by the window could sit up, he would pass the time by describing to his roommate all the things he could see outside the window.
The man in the other bed began to live for those one hour periods where his world would be broadened and enlivened by all the activity and color of the world outside.
The window overlooked a park with a lovely lake. Ducks and swans played on the water while children sailed their model boats. Young lovers walked arm in arm amidst flowers of every color and a fine view of the city skyline could be seen in the distance.
As the man by the window described all this in exquisite detail, the man on the other side of the room would close his eyes and imagine the picturesque scene.
One warm afternoon the man by the window described a parade passing by.
Although the other man couldn't hear the band - he could see it. In his mind's eye as the gentleman by the window portrayed it with descriptive words.
Days and weeks passed.
One morning, the day nurse arrived to bring water for their baths only to find the lifeless body of the man by the window, who had died peacefully in his sleep. She was saddened and called the hospital attendants to take the body away.
As soon as it seemed appropriate, the other man asked if he could be moved next to the window. The nurse was happy to make the switch, and after making sure he was comfortable, she left him alone.
Slowly, painfully, he propped himself up on one elbow to take his first look at the real world outside.
He strained to slowly turn to look out the window beside the bed.
It faced a blank wall. The man asked the nurse what could have compelled his deceased r oommate who had described such wonderful things outside this window.
The nurse responded that the man was blind and could not even see the wall.
She said, "Perhaps he just wanted to encourage you."
Epilogue:
There is tremendous happiness in making others happy, despite our own situations.
Shared grief is half the sorrow, but happiness when shared, is doubled.
If you want to feel rich, just count all the things you have that money can't buy.
"Today is a gift, that's why it is called the present."
A CHRISTMAS GIFT
by Bethany Brake
I am lying on the couch, curled up under a green fleece blanket. The house is quiet, everyone else has gone out.
Only a few days after Christmas, my family seems to still be in the Christmas spirit, even though I am not. I am feeling blue, fighting depression again after finally beginning to feel better. My disability has flared, and I am feeling sorry for myself, feeling that things might not ever get better.
Lying there alone, I can think only of the loved ones who are no longer with us to spend the holidays. Though my grandmother passed away more than two years ago, my heart still aches every time I think of her, and the holiday season just makes it that much worse.
I sigh and turn over, burying myself deeper under the blanket. My service dog rises from where he's been lying next to the couch and comes over to look at me. He sticks his wet nose in my face, and I groan and shove him away. "Get out of here, Chester. Don't bug me."
He stares at me for a minute, and then walks away, padding into the kitchen, his toenails making ticking sounds against the hardwood floors. I pull the blanket over my head and, in the warm darkness, begin to doze off.
Just as I am totally relaxed, something hard bonks me on the head. I pull back the blanket, sputtering in surprise. Chester is standing there, staring at me, his tail wagging. He picks his tennis ball up from the floor where it has landed after rolling off my head, and drops it under my nose. Then for good measure gives me a nice wet nose-nudge on the forehead. I glare at him and pull the blanket back over my head.
I hear his footsteps walking away again, and settle back in to take a nap. Moments later, something else hits me over the head. With a curse, I fling back the blanket and sit up, ready to yell.
Chester stands there, his tail wagging furiously, his big Christmas rawhide bone in his mouth, other little rawhides and toys clustered around his feet. He drops the big rawhide in my lap, then picks up a toy and flings it at me. I just sit there with my mouth open, completely unable to say anything, my anger fading as he dances in front of me, asking to play, handing me all his toys, giving up the rawhide that he adores so that I'll be happy.
I hand his rawhide back to him, but he prances over and drops it in my lap again, giving me a swift lick before bouncing away. He pauses a few feet away, staring at me hopefully. He looks so goofy that I begin to smile, and he prances around happily, and before long I am laughing out loud.
He jumps up on the couch and puts his head in my lap, rolling over for a belly- scratching, wiggling like a puppy. I hug him close, my precious boy, a lump forming in my throat. He's willing to give his most prized possessions to me just to make me smile, and right then and there I realize how incredibly lucky I am. More than just a dog, more even than a service dog, he is a true friend. He licks my face, and suddenly things don't seem so dark. His simple gifts of love mean more to me than anything else that I've ever received, and somehow I begin to feel that as long as he is with me, things will be all right.
--------------------------------------------------------------------Bethany is a 21 year old senior at The Ohio State University in Columbus, Ohio. She has been partnered with her service dog, Chester, since April 2003.
Satan called a worldwide convention of demons. In his opening address he said, "We can't keep Christians from going to church. We can't keep them from reading their Bibles and knowing the truth. We can't even keep them from forming an intimate relationship with their savior. Once they gain that connection with Jesus, our power over them is broken. So let them go to their churches; let them have their covered dish dinners, BUT steal their time, so they don't have time to develop a relationship with Jesus Christ.." "This is what I want you to do," said the devil: "Distract them from gaining hold of their Savior and maintaining that vital connection throughout their day!" "How shall we do this?" his demons shouted. "Keep them busy in the nonessentials of life and invent innumerable schemes to occupy their minds," he answered. Tempt them to spend, spend, spend, and borrow, borrow, borrow. Persuade the wives to go to work for long hours and the husbands to work 6-7 days each week, 10-12 hours a day, so they can afford their empty lifestyles. Keep them from spending time with their children. As their families fragment, soon, their homes will offer no escape from the pressures of work!
Over-stimulate their minds so that they cannot hear that still, small voice. Entice them to play the radio or cassette player whenever they drive. To keep the TV, VCR, CDs, DVD's and their PCs going constantly in their home and see to it that every store and restaurant in the world plays non-biblical music constantly. This will jam their minds and break that union with Christ. Fill the coffee tables with magazines and newspapers. Pound their minds with the news 24 hours a day. Invade their driving moments with billboards.
Flood their mailboxes with junk mail, mail order catalogs, sweepstakes, guaranteed credit cards, and every kind of newsletter and promotional offering free products, services and false hopes.. Keep skinny, beautiful models on the magazines and TV so their husbands will believe that outward beauty is what's important, and they'll become dissatisfied with their wives. Keep those skinny, beautiful models on the magazines to grab the attention of their young sons at a very early age. Keep the wives too tired to love their husbands at night. Give them headaches too! If they don't give their husbands the love they need, they will begin to look elsewhere. That will fragment their families quickly!
Give them Santa Claus to distract them from teaching their children the real meaning of Christmas. Give them an Easter bunny so they won't talk about his resurrection and power over sin and death. Even in their recreation, let them be excessive. Have them return from their recreation exhausted. Keep them too busy to go out in nature and reflect on God's creation. Send them to amusement parks, sporting events, plays, concerts, and movies instead.
Keep them busy, busy, busy! And when they meet for spiritual fellowship, involve them in gossip and small talk so that they leave with troubled consciences. Crowd their lives with so many good causes they have no time to seek power from Jesus. Soon they will be working in their own strength, sacrificing their health and family for the good of the cause."
"It will work!" "It will work!" the demons screamed. It was quite a plan! The demons went eagerly to their assignments causing Christians everywhere to get busier and more rushed, going here and there, having little time for their God or their families, having no time to tell others about the power of Jesus to change lives.
I guess the question is, has the devil been successful in his schemes? You be the judge!!!!!
- from Deanna
PAW PRINTS ON MY HEART
by James Colasanti, Jr.There are times I still cry.
Those animals whose lives touch ours are a part of the cycle of love that remains with us forever. We don't get over losing the dogs who have been part of our life -- we just get used to living without them.
The bond that develops between a man and his dog somehow transcends
life itself, carrying over to the other side.It has been over a year since my quintuple bypass -- an experience no one should have to endure. Yet, because of it, I am still around to tell this tale.
In a culture in which accounts of near-death experiences are as common as life itself, I had, what I call, a new-life experience.
I did not die. My heart was turned off and then turned back on again after everything was fixed. The day before the surgery I had been in denial. I didn't smoke. I didn't eat much red meat. I wasn't overweight. I didn't have high cholesterol. And even more puzzling, heart disease wasn't common in my family. But all the "didn'ts" in the world really didn't matter.
So what does a quintuple bypass have to do with dogs, you ask?
The morning of my surgery, while very memorable in one respect, is quite hazy in another. Amnesiatic-type drugs had been given to me so I would forget the trauma that I was about to endure.
What I do remember in my dream like state, was a long, long walk down the ghastly hospital-green corridor. The hospital hall was longer than forever. As I walked I was joined on my right by my newest dog, Shep, a Great Dane-hound mix. His long tail swished against the wall as it wagged back and forth.
On my left side walked Zak, my nineteen-year-old Basset hound dog-mix who had passed on some months before. His tail, though not as long as
Shep's, wagged high into the air.Zak was a three-time loser, but not to me. Three times he had been
rescued from the pound and three times he had been brought back. Finally, one of the pound workers called and said that I was his last chance. So
I adopted him, and he remained a part of the family for nineteen years.As the two dogs and I approached the nurse's station, Zak turned to me and telepathically asked, "Why did you wait so long to put me to sleep?"
His euthanasia had been a very traumatic event. He was so old that his
veins kept collapsing every time the veternarian tried to put him to sleep. The vet started yelling, "You waited too long, man, you waited too long!"Here I am, putting my best friend for nineteen years to sleep, tears streaming down my face, and the vet is yelling at me. I had been guilty
of the cardinal sin all pet owners face -- hanging on too long and refusing
to let go. Because of the dog's deteriorating condition, the vet was going
to have to stick Zak in the heart in order to euthanize him. The vet did
not want me to remain with Zak and I would not be with him when he passed over.To Zak's question I replied, "You were a part of my life for nineteen
years, and I didn't have the heart to let go. That's why I'm in the
hospital, getting my heart fixed."Zak jumped up and licking my face said to me, "Be happy for me. I am at peace here. You go back with Shep. You've got a lot of dogs to take
care of before they pass on."With that, Shep grabbed hold of my hand in his mouth and pulled me back down the hall. Shep stood up and started licking my face vigorously.
The next thing I knew a nurse had my hand in hers taking my pulse, and with the other hand, she was swabbing my face with a wet cloth in the
recovery room.The memories of the nineteen years with Zak flooded over me, and the peace Zak left me with was his paw prints on my heart.
Courtest of Pet Warmers
http://www.petwarmers.com
Join their mailing list at join@petwarmers.com
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Sent By: Tim & Susan From The Story of Encouragement Howard County Sheriff Jerry Marr got a disturbing call one Saturday afternoon a few months ago. His 6-year-old grandson Mikey had been hit by a car while fishing in Greentown with his dad. The father and son were near a bridge by the Kokomo Reservoir when a woman lost control of her car, slid off the bridge and hit Mikey at a rate of about 50 mph. Sheriff Marr had seen the results of accidents like this and feared the worst. When he got to Saint Joseph Hospital, he rushed through the emergency room to find Mikey conscious and in fairly good spirits. Mikey, what happened?" Sheriff Marr asked. "Well Papaw, I was fishin' with Dad, and some lady runned me over, flew into a mud puddle, and broke my fishin' pole and I didn't get to catch no fish!" As it turned out, the impact propelled Mikey about 500 feet, over a few trees and an embankment and in the middle of a mud puddle. His only injuries were to his right femur bone which had broken in two places. Mikey had surgery to place pins in his leg. Otherwise Mikey was fine. Since all the boy could talk about was that his fishing pole was broken, the Sheriff went out to Wal-mart and bought him a new one while he was in surgery so he could have it when he came out. The next day the Sheriff sat with Mikey to keep him company in the hospital. Mikey was enjoying his new fishing pole and talked about when he could go fishing again as he cast into the trash can. When they were alone, Mikey, just a matter-of-fact, said, "Papaw, did you know Jesus is real?" Well," the Sheriff replied, a little startled. "Yes, Jesus is real to all who believe in him and love him in their hearts" No," said Mikey. "I mean Jesus is REALLY real." "What do you mean?" asked the Sheriff. "I know he's real 'cause I saw him," said Mikey, still casting into the trash can. You did?" said the Sheriff. "Yep," said Mikey. "When that lady runned me over and broke my fishing pole, Jesus caught me in his arms and laid me down in the mud puddle." GIVES YOU GLORY BUMPS DOESN'T IT?! His love is always with you. His promises are true and when we give Him all our cares, you know He will see us through. So when the road you're traveling on seems difficult at best, just remember I'm here praying. And GOD WILL DO THE REST.
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The day is over, you are driving home. You tune in your radio. You hear a little blurb about a little village in India where some villagers have died suddenly, strangely, of a flu that has never been before. It's not influenza, but three or four fellows are dead, and it's kind of interesting. They're sending some doctors over there to investigate it.
You don't think much about it, but on Sunday, coming home from church, you hear another radio spot. Only they say it's not three villagers, it's 30,000 villagers in the back hills of this particular area of India, and it's on TV that night. CNN runs a little blurb; people are heading there from the disease center in Atlanta because this disease strain has never been seen before.
By Monday morning when you get up, it's the lead story. For it's not just India; it's Pakistan, Afghanistan, Iran, and before you know it, you're hearing this story everywhere, and they have coined it now as "the mystery flu". The President has made some comment that he and everyone are praying and hoping that all will go well over there. But everyone is wondering, "How are we going to contain it?"
That's when the President of France makes an announcement that shocks Europe. He is closing their borders; no flights from India, Pakistan, or any of the countries where this thing has been seen.
That night you are watching a little bit of CNN before going to bed. Your jaw hits your chest when a weeping woman is translated from a French news program into English: "There's a man lying in a hospital in Paris dying of the mystery flu. It has come to Europe." Panic strikes.
As best they can tell, once you get it, you have it for a week, and you don't know it. Then you have four days of unbelievable symptoms. Then you die. Britain closes it's borders, but it's too late. South Hampton, Liverpool, North Hampton, and it's Tuesday morning when the President of the United States makes the following announcement: "Due to a national security risk, all flights to and from Europe and Asia have been canceled. If your loved ones are overseas, I'm sorry. They cannot come back until we find a cure for this thing".
Within four days our nation has been plunged into an unbelievable fear. People are selling little masks for your face. People are talking about what if it comes to this country, and preachers on Tuesday are saying, "It's the scourge of God". It's Wednesday night, and you are at a church prayer meeting when somebody runs in from the parking lot and says, "Turn on a radio, turn on a radio." While the church listens to a little transistor radio with a microphone stuck up to it, the announcement is made, "Two women are lying in a Long Island hospital dying from the mystery flu." Within hours it seems, this thing just sweeps across the country. People are working around the clock trying to find an antidote. Nothing is working. California, Oregon, Arizona, Florida, Massachusetts. It's as though it's just sweeping in from the borders.
Then, all of a sudden the news comes out. The code has been broken. A cure can be found. A vaccine can be made. It's going to take e blood of somebody who hasn't been infected, and so, sure enough, all through the Midwest, through all those channels of emergency broadcasting, everyone is asked to do one simple thing: "Go to your downtown hospital and have your blood type taken. That's all we ask of you. When you hear the sirens go off in your neighborhood, please make your way quickly, quietly, and safely to the hospitals."
Sure enough, when you and your family get down there late on that Friday night, there is a long line, and they've got nurses and doctors coming out and pricking fingers and taking blood and putting labels on it. Your wife and your kids are out there, and they take your blood type and they say, "Wait here in the parking lot and if we call your name, you can be dismissed and go home".
You stand around scared with your neighbors, wondering what in the world is going on, and wondering if this is the end of the world. Suddenly a young man comes running out of the hospital screaming. He's yelling a name and waving a clipboard. What? He yells it again!
And your son tugs on your jacket and says, "Daddy, that's me." Before you know it, they have grabbed your boy.
"Wait a minute, hold it!"
And they say, "It's okay, his blood is clean. His blood is pure. We want to make sure he doesn't have the disease. We think he has got the right type."
Five tense minutes later, out come the doctors and nurses, crying and hugging one another and some are even laughing. It's the first time you have seen anybody laugh in a week, and an old doctor walks up to you and says, "Thank you, sir. Your son's blood type is perfect. It's clean, it is pure, and we can make the vaccine."
As the word begins to spread all across that parking lot full of folks, people are screaming and praying and laughing and crying. But then the gray-haired doctor pulls you and your wife aside and says, "May we see you for a moment? We didn't realize that the donor would be a minor, and we need you to sign a consent form." You begin to sign and then you see that the number of pints of blood to be taken is empty.
"H-h-h-how many pints?"
And that is when the old doctor's smile fades and he says, "We had no idea it would be a little child. We weren't prepared. We need it all!"
"But, but..."
"You don't understand. We are talking about the world here. Please sign. We - we need it all - we need it all!"
"But can't you give him a transfusion?"
"If we had clean blood we would. Can you sign? Would you sign?"
In numb silence you do. Then they say, "Would you like to have a moment with him before we begin?"
Can you walk back? Can you walk back to that room where he sits on a table saying, "Daddy? Mommy? What's going on?"
Can you take his hands and say, "Son, your mommy and I love you, and we would never ever let anything happen to you that didn't just have to be. Do you understand that?"
And when that old doctor comes back in and says, "I'm sorry, we've - we've got to get started. People all over the world are dying."
Can you leave? Can you walk out while he is saying, "Dad? Mom? Dad? Why - why have you forsaken me?"
And then next week, when they have the ceremony to honor your son, and some folks sleep through it, and some folks don't even come because they go to the lake, and some folks come with a pretentious smile and just pretend to care. Would you want to jump up and say, "MY SON DIED! DON'T YOU CARE?"
Is that what God is saying? "MY SON DIED. DON'T YOU KNOW HOW MUCH I CARE?"
"Father, seeing it from your eyes
breaks our hearts. Maybe now we begin to comprehend the great love you
have for us. Amen "
- Author Anonymous
Home of the Brave
The Heart
"Tomorrow morning," the surgeon
began, "I'll open up your heart..."
"You'll find Jesus there," the boy
interrupted.
The surgeon looked up, annoyed "I'll
cut your heart open," he continued, to see how much damage has been done..."
"But when you open up my heart,
you'll find Jesus in there," said the boy.
The surgeon looked to the parents,
who sat quietly. "When I see how much damage has been done, I'll sew your
heart and chest back up, and I'll plan what to do next."
"But you'll find Jesus in my heart.
The Bible says He lives there. The hymns all say He lives there. You'll
find Him in my heart."
The surgeon had had enough. "I'll
tell you what I'll find in your heart. I'll find damaged muscle, low bloodsupply,
and weakened vessels. And I'll find out if I can make you well."
"You'll find Jesus there too. He
lives there."
The surgeon left.
The surgeon sat in his office, recording
his notes from the surgery, "...damaged aorta, damaged pulmonary
vein, widespread muscle degeneration. No hope for transplant, no hope for
cure. Therapy: painkillers and bed rest. Prognosis:, "
here he paused, "death within one
year." He stopped the recorder, but there was more to be said. "Why?"
he asked aloud."Why did You do this? You've put him here; You've put him
in this pain; and You've cursed him to an early death. Why?"
The Lord answered and said, "The
boy, My lamb, was not meant for your flock for long, for he is a part of
My flock, and will forever be. Here, in My flock, he will feel no pain,
and will be comforted as you cannot imagine. His parents will one day join
him here, and they will know peace, and My flock will continue to grow."
The surgeon's tears were hot, but
his anger was hotter. "You created that boy, and You created that heart.
He'll be dead in months. Why?" The Lord answered, "The boy, My lamb, shall
return to My flock, for He has done his duty: I did not put My lamb with
your flock to lose him, but to retrieve another lost lamb."
The surgeon wept.
The surgeon sat beside the boy's
bed; the boy's parents sat across from him. The boy awoke and whispered,
"Did you cut open my heart?" "Yes," said the surgeon. "What did you find?"
asked the boy."
"I found Jesus there," said the
surgeon.
Author Unknown