THE OLD MAN AND THE DOG.


The Old Man and the Dog:  Written by Catherine Moore.

    
http://www.marycy.org/dignity.html
    
"Watch out! You nearly broad sided that car!" My father yelled at me.   "Can't you do anything right?"
 
Those words hurt worse than being punched in the nose. I turned my head toward the old 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 with him. 

 "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 most of his life 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 powers.

      "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 shook his head disgustedly and stomped back into the house.  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 finally died all together. 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 wife, Sue, and I asked Dad to come live with us on our small farm. We, were afraid to let him by himself and we hoped the fresh air and rustic atmosphere would help him adjust and bring him back to some sort of normalcy.

      "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 angry. Soon I was taking my pent-up anger out on Sue. We began to bicker and argue.  We never said it out loud but I knew we both wished he wasn’t living with us.

      "Finally, Sue decided to seek out our pastor and explained the situation. The clergyman set up weekly counseling appointments for us. At the close of each session we prayed with him, asking God to soothe Dad's troubled mind.

      "But the months wore on and God was silent. Something had to be done, but what?

      "One day when I was nearing my breaking point, 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, but it was 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 rows 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 large black lab, one of the dog world's aristocrats.  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?"" 

      ""Sir," 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 walked out 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 yelled even louder.

     "At those words Dad whirled angrily, his hands clenched at his sides, his eyes narrowed and blazing.  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 and then dropped as he stared at the uplifted paw. Confusion replaced the anger in his eyes. The pointer waited patiently. After a moment, Dad was on his knees, hugging the animal with tears in his eyes.  This is the first time I saw my day with an emotion other than anger in a very long time. 

     "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 11 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 Sue, put on my slippers and went to 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 empty bed. I wrapped his still form in the rag rug that he had slept on. As Sue and I buried him, near their favorite fishing hole, with tears freely flowing from our eyes, 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 during the last three years, 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 and read:

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

     "The pastor then said, "I've often thanked God for sending an angel to someone in need".

     "For me, everything dropped into place, completing a puzzle that I had not seen before.  Cheyenne 's unexpected appearance at the animal shelter...his calm acceptance and complete devotion to my father…and the proximity of their deaths were not a coincidence.  Suddenly I understood.  It was not me who restored my dad’s “peace of mind”.  I finally realized that God had answered our prayers after all.

     "Sometimes we go through life blinded to the simple blessings that God affords us.  We pray for help and then do not recognize when God answers our prayers. 

     "In this story they prayed for God to “soothe their Dad's troubled mind”.  They were waiting on God when the fact is, God was waiting on them, to act. When they finally did act, their answer came in the form of a dog.

     "Was this an angel?  We can only speculate.  What we do know is that there was a prayer prayed, and, there was a blessing given in an answer to that prayer.   Was this from God?  I’ll let that up to you to decide. ( https://bible.org/illustration/old-man-and-dog )
 
 
 

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