” There is a time for everything,
and a season for every activity under heaven:…” __ Ecclesiastes 3:1
The cycles in our lives provide us with understanding the need for prayer. The disciples and the people who gathered and asked Jesus how to pray to God, were given our Lord’s Prayer. Thanking God for what is good in our life is also heartfelt prayer. Becoming centered quietly respectfully giving God our pressing problems, rises a peace beyond human understanding. To negate its power, its glory, its presence is as foolish as to negate the breath of life taken here on earth. The next one as our souls depart, is in heaven, just as Reverent Billy Graham said. Well, maybe the next breath after death is in the somewhere where we face our life in full review. Here is a quote to consider: “LORD, help me to become the person my dog thinks I am.” __Dawn Ewing
I once struck a conversation with a young lady checking out my groceries at Walmart and she said she had just wished God a good day. She said she just felt it in her heart to wish Him a good day instead of just asking Him to bless her with one. It still makes me smile. We ought all do that sometimes… When King Solomon invoked there is a time for everything, he surely knew God’s plan for us is to learn from one another from youth through maturity. That cycle of every lifetime is the parentheses in time here on earth to fulfill our purpose to learn and to teach. The light of love within each being is the source of all good. We each have a divine purpose, and the sooner we realize this fact, the sooner regrets will be a thing of the past.
A dog’s unconditional love gives me pause. We should all wish to be the human our dog thinks we are. Dandelion and Tumbleweed are two Tibetan Terriers born to Princess in Lahaina on Maui, Hawaii. Their Mom belonged to a grandmother whose grandkids scheduled a pick up in the parking lot of the new Bowling Alley in Wailuku for the folks who had responded to the ad in the Maui Weekly. Since I had been the first to call in December, they let me choose one from a litter of five. Dandelion was the nudger in the group. Her excitement was contagious and had to pick her as the others were waiting in line to choose their treasured pup. As it turned out, she was the first born. The three new owners chose a male and two of the other two females. They were also adopted to live Upcountry in Kula. Each dog was given an assigned stuffed toy and Dandelion’s hound dog was bigger than she was. The runt, asleep, and oblivious to all that had already transpired, remained to be chosen by someone who did not show up. After a half an hour, I debated about switching Dandelion for Tumbleweed as she wouldn’t stop barking. I asked if I could do so and they said sure, it didn’t matter, one would go to the pound. That’s how I ended up taking them both.
Our Romeo dog had been kidnapped or dognapped as the Veterinarian said in sadness. We searched and posted his photo to no avail. The boys and I had too many reasons to feel the empty nest.
We had recently moved back to Maui, and I had made the most heartbreaking decision for which I continue to actually suffer. We left behind our two loyal dogs in Scottsbluff, Nebraska. We flew in August and the risk of them flying in the belly of the plane due to the heat at that time of year prohibited the trip. We would have had to make arrangements for them to be sent in one and a half months. The cost was prohibitive. Crossing the ocean from Los Angeles and be quaranteened on Oahu for three months alone would have cost five thousand dollars.
In all honesty, had I known the heartache, I would have stayed behind. I don’t know how. The Panorama Drive sold. We had four boys ready to begin school at the end of the month, and my elderly Mom with Alzheimers required daily attention. That year carved a separation too costly to have permitted. I pray to be forgiven in heaven by both Minnie and Cookie. I have to trust they were placed in good homes. My heart hurts. It was long ago yet the wound seeps. It is like that with so much more. Dogs let us tell them everything; they love us in spite of ourselves. Ours were angels.
” Petting, scratching, and cuddling a dog could be as soothing to the mind and heart as deep meditation and almost as good for the soul as prayer. __Dean Koontz, False Memory
How do we name our dogs ?
Dandelion got her name because my dearest friend Edna and her daughter Michelle from Scottsbluff, gave me a glass paper weight beholding the flower. Tumbleweed looked like the huge one sent to me by Lucretia to keep in Hawaii from Nebraska. Those friends were my colony of angels, and I’ll write about it someday.
Dandelion taught Tumbleweed to go potty outside and down the steps and into the garden. Their adventurous spirit took them out to Kula highway. Needless to say we were frequently alerted. Ironically, by the time they were ten years old, two of their siblings had already passed on to heaven from ailments neither of our two fur balls caught. The two little rascals dug our neighbors’ flower garden. Colleen and Sam Weimer waited for us to move before telling us about it. In fact, they ever so lovingly scolded the mutts while offering them milk bones. Every time they visited, the two could count on being petted…We moved down the hill from Likeke to Pulehu…and there they enjoyed a large acreage though sometimes were an unfortunate bother to the new neighbors… In their fifteen years so far, they moved four times. They sigh a lot. That comes with age.
They have listened to piano practices, and attended High Teas. They have loved cats and tolerated other dogs. They care for one another’s ear mites and sleep side by side. They have finally outgrown a fear of vacuum cleaners and thunderstorms; they cannot hear. It is sometimes comical though sad to see one jump up and lose balance and fall on the other; it is a predictable routine like a minuet.
Their distinct characters have evolved just as those of humans who age ever much slower. The commonality is that they do not like to be awakened. Dandelion is still more swift to run out and back into the house. Tumbleweed can barely beat molasses and I have called him a Grandpa clock. He wobbles like the chains that hold the weights. Neither likes to be held though they both like to sit by either side of me on the couch, and we are three butt to butt to butt. That is particularly satisfying in winter.
Since they have been with us, we lost two cats and just a few weeks ago, our youngest white lab, Marley. The two get along with the chickens in the front yard since they have known them as chicks from inside a box in the house. I wonder what they really think about them now that they have been put out. Maybe they’re glad not to wear feathers. They prefer clean sheets in their beds and look quite dapper after a grooming. Dande’s toes are usually painted, and Tumbles returns wearing a bandana. I chase fur and dust every single day to avoid growing a carpet. The two have graduated from give us “More Attention School” as they have taken to being much like ankle bracelets. One can but pet them. They don’t purr. They don’t lick much. They lean.
“Kindness is the language the blind can see and the deaf can hear.” __Mark Twain
To have taken in a dog, is to have adopted the kindness of a loyal soul.
On Monday they will be groomed and I may add their latest portrait. I hope you have enjoyed reading about them and truly hope to read your comment.