The Butler's: February 2010

I was reading my email today and got a few that I thought were very good and I would pass along.

CHEYENNE

By Catherine Moore

"Watch out! You nearly broadsided 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. 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, And 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 Cheyennes 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. "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. Cheyennes 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.

THE ECONOMY IS SO BAD.....

The economy is so bad that....

...I got a pre-declined credit card in the mail.

...I ordered a burger at McDonald's and the kid behind the counter asked, "Can you afford fries with that?"

...CEO's are now playing miniature golf.

...if the bank returns your check marked "Insufficient Funds," you have to call them and ask if they meant you or them.

...Hot Wheels and Matchbox stocks are trading higher than GM. (No joke!)

...McDonald's is selling the 1/4 ouncer.

...parents in Beverly Hills fired their nannies and learned their children's names.

...a truckload of Americans was caught sneaking into Mexico.

...Dick Cheney took his stockbroker hunting.

...Motel Six won't leave the light on anymore.

...the Mafia is laying off judges.

...The economy is so bad Exxon-Mobil laid off 25 Congressmen...

...Congress says they are looking into this Bernard Madof scandal. Oh Great!! The guy who made $50 Billion disappear is being investigated by the people who made $1.5 Trillion disappear!

And, finally... I was so depressed last night thinking about the economy, wars, jobs, my savings, Social Security, retirement funds, etc., I called the Suicide Lifeline. I got a call center in Pakistan, and when I told them I was suicidal, they got all excited, and asked if I could drive a truck.

I have not had much opportunity to keep this updated lately. I have been so busy with work and then when I come home I just don’t have any time to sit down and spend a few minutes on the computer. Today James posted on facebook that he doesn’t get to see his wife much and it made me sad. I feel so bad that our lives are so hectic and I am praying all of the time that it will get better. Last night I had to stay at work late so my mom had to come and watch Peyton. I also have to stay late tonight and I had to stay late on this past Saturday too. That is three days out of five days that I have had 10+ hour days which is great for my comp time, but not for my mommy time. Last night when I got home I felt like Peyton was smiling more at my mom than me….which really made me sad. Another thing that makes me sad is that I only get Peyton ready for the day two times a week. I know most people would not care about this….but I do. I love giving her a bath and making her smell good with lotion, baby powder, and baby perfume. I love picking out cute outfits for her to wear with matching socks and hair accessories. I love getting her all ready and then feeding her and having to start all over again. Yesterday James called me and said that she looked so cute in this new outfit I bought her, but by the time I got home she was already in her pj’s ready for bed. I guess I just feel like I a missing out. This is the busiest time for me at work and soon it will slow down, but regardless of that….I miss my baby….I miss my husband….I miss me.

I was reading a blog the other day about the little boy in Utah that drowned in his bathtub and arrived at the hospital DOA (dead on arrival) and then miraculously was resuscitated and is well on his way to a full recovery. The story has been unfolding the past few weeks and just reading the moms feelings has been so touching and I totally sympathized with the mother and can’t imagine the torment that she was going through and how grateful she must have been to have her little boy back. I was also so impressed by her strength and her faith. She wrote in one post….

“Please hug your babies a little tighter...

Give your children a little extra squeeze...

Be a little more patient and diligent

and a little less distracted by the things that will wait until later.

Embrace the things that matter most!

Life is so fragile...”

These statements are so true and I will do my best to live by them. I am just so grateful for my little angel and I thank god everyday for allowing me to be her mother. I thank god that I have been blessed with such a wonderful husband and helpful families who give so much to us. I pray constantly that god will give me as much time as possible to spend with Peyton and James. I truly am so blessed.

To read the blog that I quoted above:
http://stakerzxposed.blogspot.com/search?updated-max=2010-02-06T11%3A01%3A00-07%3A00&max-results=20