Pet Portraits

I have added a new portrait I created of my dog Shadoe to my Pet Portrait photo gallery. Also, I have included a "Before" and "After" photo to show the unretouched beginning photo and the resulting "Painted" image.

Lucky

Lucky Dog.... Anyone who has pets will really like this. Mary and her husband Jim had a dog named 'Lucky.' Lucky was a real character. Whenever Mary and Jim had company come for a weekend visit they would warn their friends to not leave their luggage open because Lucky would help himself to whatever struck his fancy. Inevitably, someone would forget and something would come up missing. Mary or Jim would go to Lucky's toy box in the basement and there the treasure would be, amid all of Lucky's other favorite toys Lucky always stashed his finds in his toy box and he was very particular that his toys stay in the box. It happened that Mary found out she had breast cancer. Something told her she was going to die of this disease....in fact; she was just sure it was fatal. She scheduled the double mastectomy, fear riding her shoulders. The night before she was to go to the hospital she cuddled with Lucky. A thought struck her...what would happen to Lucky? Although the three-year-old dog liked Jim, he was Mary's dog through and through. If I die, Lucky will be abandoned, Mary thought. He won't understand that I didn't want to leave him! The thought made her sadder than thinking of her own death. The double mastectomy was harder on Mary than her doctors had anticipated and Mary was hospitalized for over two weeks. Jim took Lucky for his evening walk faithfully, but the little dog just drooped, whining and miserable. Finally the day came for Mary to leave the hospital. When she arrived home, Mary was so exhausted she couldn't even make it up the steps to her bedroom. Jim made his wife comfortable on the couch and left her to nap. Lucky stood watching Mary but he didn't come to her when she called. It made Mary sad but sleep soon overcame her and she dozed. When Mary woke for a second she couldn't understand what was wrong. She couldn't move her head and her body felt heavy and hot. But panic soon gave way to laughter when Mary realized the problem. She was covered, literally blanketed, with every treasure Lucky owned! While she had slept, the sorrowing dog had made trip after trip to the basement bringing his beloved mistress all his favorite things in life. He had covered her with his love. Mary forgot about dying. Instead she and Lucky began living again, walking further and further together every day. It's been 12 years now and Mary is still cancer-free. Lucky He still steals treasures and stashes them in his toy box but Mary remains his greatest treasure. Remember....live every day to the fullest. Each minute is a blessing from God. And never forget....the people who make a difference in our lives are not the ones with the most Credentials, the most money, or the most awards. They are the ones that care for us.

The Old Man and the Dog

"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 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 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. "Do not neglect to show hospitality to strangers, for by this some have entertained angels without knowing it."

"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.

Do Spirits Exist?

Having been an Emergency Medical Technician and a Paramedic for sixteen years, I have seen many strange things that defy logic when it comes to life and death. That said, I have always had a belief that life does not end when we leave this world. What awaits us after this life on earth, I'm sure to find out someday.

Until then, I have been a fan of Ghost Hunters and watch it every Wednesday night. One of the first times I watched it, they used a technique that is commonplace among "ghost hunters" the world over. Using a voice recorder (digital or analog) while asking questions. Usually, they cannot here a response, until they play the recording back. That's when a strange, disembodied voice can sometimes give an answer.

This piqued my curiosity. My Dad had passed away nine years prior, and I was caring for my Mother who was ill. My dog, Duchess, had passed away in her sleep (just six weeks shy of her fifteenth birthday), only a few months prior to this. I was missing them both very much, and was hoping that the stories that I had read about our pets waiting for us to join them on "the other side".

After my Mom had gone to sleep, I went into the room where we kept her oxygen machine (that ran 24/7). I had just that day received the digital voice recorder I had sent for, to try my own experiment on EVP (Electronic Voice Phenomena). I asked out loud if my Dad was there with us, and if Duchess was with him. Of course I heard nothing but the rythmic sound of my Mom's oxygen machine.

When I played the recording back, however, I got a shock! I heard me asking the question, and a second later came a whisper that said " Hi, Jeff". Almost overlapping the whisper was a dog bark! I know what you're thinking, It was either my imagination, or just my Mom's oxygen machine, or some other natural sound. I thought the same thing. I played the raw recording to several different people without setting up the scene for them. I just played it and asked them what they heard. Everyone heard the voice! But, to be honest, only I seemed to hear the bark.

Is this proof of life after death? No. But it sure did give me comfort!

I had Shadoe for about one and a half years before my Mom passed away. Shadoe usually sleeps with me for about an hour before going into the living room for the rest of the night (yes, she has the run of the house). On several occasions she has gotten up, walked into the hall, and stared into my Mom's room. When I get up to see what she is looking at, she will just be staring into the empty room with a big "smile" on her face! She will stare like this for about a minute, wag her tail, and walk down the hall to the living room. She will also, on occasion, stare at the spot where Duchess used to sleep in my room. This also is a source of comfort! I know that my family (including Duchess) are watching over me and Shadoe! I honestly believe that the love we have for family, friends and pets lasts forever.

If you have a story that you would like to share, please do so!

A heartwarming e-mail I received

She is pregnant . He had just saved her from a fire in her house, rescuing her by carrying her out of the house into her front yard, then he continued to fight the fire.

When he finally got done putting the fire out,
he sat down to catch his breath and rest.

A photographer from the Charlotte , North Carolina news-
paper, noticed her in the distance looking at the fireman.

He saw her walking straight toward the firefighter
and wondered what she was going to do.

As he raised his camera, she came up to the tired man who had just saved her life and the lives of her babies and kissed him just as the photographer snapped this photograph.

And some people say animals are dumb!


GOD'S LOVE DOESN'T GET ANY MORE PURE THAN THIS MY FRIENDS.....

Your pet stories

This is an invitation to post comments on your pets (shelter/rescue, pet store or breeder).

How Shadoe came to be

About 19 years ago, I went to Bemidji, MN with my parents to visit my brother. While there, I made my usual trip to the pet store. I had wanted a dog for the longest time, but couldn't make up my mind as to the breed I wanted. My sister had a german shepard and my brother had a doberman. These were two of the best dogs anyone could want! Anyway, when I got to the pet store they only had one dog there. A six week old doberman/shepard mix! Right then I knew, this was my dog! She turned out to be the best dog I could ever have. Right from the start I knew she was special! I never had to tie her up outside, because she would never leave the yard unless I was with her. In later years, I took care of my Mother when she became ill. I relied on Duchess to let me know if she needed help during the night.

On the night of March, 2, 2005 Duchess came into my bedroom and wanted to sleep with me. Being an old girl, I had to lift her into my bed. She kissed me, and layed down for about an hour. Then, she got up and whined to let me know that she wanted to lay with my mom. (This was sort of a ritual with us). This night seemed different, though. I carried her into my Mom's room and told her that Duchess wanted to sleep with her. Both my Mom and Duchess were happy. A couple hours later, Duchess whined again. She wanted down. I went in and helped her down. She walked into my room and layed on her bed, looked at me and "smiled".

I suddenly woke a few hours later with a start. Instantly I knew that Duchess was gone. She knew that her time had come and wanted to say her goodbyes.

I decided that getting another pet would be too hard. It is wonderful having them for several years, but losing such a close companion is devastating!

Well, that lasted for about three months! The hole that Duchess left in my life and my heart was just too great. I found myself looking on petfinder.com more and more. The first time I went on I was going to look for an older dog. One that had lived a hard life, so that I could make the rest of their time happy. Well, I came across this younger girl. I just couldn't get her out of my mind.

I contacted the shelter where she was at and learned that she had been a stray prior to coming to the shelter where she had been for about four months. They knew that I was interested in her and when I said that if anyone else wanted her to let them adopt her, I was told that no one other than me had showed any interest in her. I thought, "It wouldn't hurt to just look at her". So I agreed to meet them in Cloquet, MN just to "check her out".

When I was going to leave my Mom said, "Don't forget your leash" and then she smiled. Mom's, how do they know these things? Well, I brought her home on a saturday and took the following week off of work so I could give her time to adapt. My Mom was very frail, and I wanted to make sure this new addition to our family would work out. On Monday, I took my new girl with me to get some more supplies for her. I was driving down the road when I looked in the rear-view mirror to see how she was doing. What I saw cemented her into my life forever!

She was sitting up in the back seat of my car with her head and nose pressed into the corner where the door and seat meet. She was visibly trembling. I pulled the car over to the curb, turned back to look at her and ask her what was wrong. She looked up at me and I saw big tears running down her face! She thought that I was going to take her back! I almost cried, too! Right then and there I knew that this relationship was going to work!

And that was how my "Shadoe" came to be!