If you love dogs
Inspiration: The Old Man and the Dog
by Catherine Moore
"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. "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...
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.
Life is too short for drama & petty things, so laugh hard, love truly and forgive quickly.
Live While You Are Alive.
Tell the people you love that you love them, at every opportunity.
Forgive now those who made you cry.
You might not get a second time.
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I have to share these two newspaper stories within three days of one another:
US Has Most Births in 45 Years!
Gosh, wonder if there's a causal relationship?
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Faith One-Liners that make you Smile & Make you Think:
Some people are kind, polite, and sweet-spirited until you try to sit in their pews.
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Many folks want to serve God, but only as advisors.
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It is easier to preach ten sermons than it is to live one.
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The good Lord didn't create anything
without a purpose, but mosquitoes come close.
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When you get to your wit's end, you'll find God lives there.
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People are funny; they want the
front of the bus, the middle of the road, and the back of the church.
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Opportunity may knock once, but temptation
bangs on your front door forever.
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Quit griping about your
church; if it was perfect, you couldn't belong.
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If the church wants a
better pastor, it only needs to pray for the one it has. Amen.
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God Himself does not propose
to judge a man until he is dead. So why should you?
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Some minds are like concrete
thoroughly mixed up and permanently set.
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Peace starts with a smile.
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I don't know why some people
change churches; what difference does
it make which one you stay home from?!
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A lot of church members who
are singing "Standing on the Promises" are just sitting on the premises.
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We were called to be witnesses, not lawyers or judges. Quit judging others.
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Be ye fishers of men. You catch them - He'll clean them.
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Coincidence is when God chooses to remain anonymous.
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Don't put a question mark where God put a period.
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Don't wait for 6 strong men to take you to church.
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Forbidden fruits create many jams.
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God doesn't call the qualified, He qualifies the called.
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God grades on the cross, not the curve.
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God loves everyone, but probably prefers
"fruits of the spirit" over "religious nuts!"
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God promises a safe landing, not a calm passage.
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He who angers you, controls you!
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If God is your Co-pilot - swap seats!
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Don't give God instructions -- just report for duty!
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The task ahead of us is never as
great as the Power behind us.
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The Will of God never takes you to
where the Grace of God will not protect you.
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We don't change the message, the message changes us.
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You can tell how big a person
is by what it takes to.........discourage him.
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The best mathematical equation I have ever seen:
1 cross + 3 nails= 4 given.
For interesting CDs from leading theologians, like Dr. Scott Hahn, go to HERE._____________________________________
True Story: I received this story last week from one of my coaching clients:
"Things are going well for me, my friend. Allow me to tell you of a men's conference I attended Jan 3-6. The Lord moved deeply in my life at that conference. The conference centered on discipling, counsel, and forgiveness in men's lives.
At the conference, the Lord impressed upon me that it was time to remove the "judgments" (resentment, anger, disrespect) I held against my dad. With much prayer (and struggle) and the prayer and counsel of other men, by the grace of God, I forgave my dad! After returning home to Jamestown, I bought a helium balloon and wrote down the issues that I had held against him all these years.
When I let go of the balloon on that sunny, January day last week, I watched the balloon sail out of sight -- the judgments did likewise!
Then I drove to my hometown in West Virginia this past week-end (Jan 11th-13th) to seek restoration by personally asking my dad to forgive me for holding so much against him all those years.
He forgave me ! Even though we already had a "good" relationship, now we are making headway to a great relationship!
All in all, this has gotten me off to a great start for 2008. I expect my ministry to men in (website:
www.singlepurposeministries.net) will benefit from all this.
I know so many men who have never forgiven people in their lives.............
and it haunts them in various ways on a daily basis.
Several who have heard this story have been prompted to "follow my lead" in this. May they find the peace and joy of forgiveness.
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How to Be Inspired Today
I'm giving you, my subscribers FREE access to this one page article HERE.
Here's an excerpt: 
One of the primary and best ways to be more consistently inspired is to attend church. A report from the Dallas Morning News: those who regularly attend worship service experience reduced amounts of suicide, drug and alcohol abuse, crime, and out-of-wedlock births compared to those who do not attend regular worship service. In addition, they are happier, healthier, have a lower rate of depression, higher level of self-esteem, less divorce, and yes - better sex. They also earn an average of $1100 a month more than those who do not regularly attend worship service. If you already attend church, tithe or give-away five percent of your income - I promise, you'll be inspired.
5. The greatest source of hope for the future (beyond God and church) and inspiration today is growing personally in our skills, knowledge and attitudes: personal development. If one feels as if they are stagnated or slipping backwards, that person rarely feels inspired, stimulated to high levels of achievement. On the other hand, when you and others notice that you're growing as a person, changing some of your destructive habits, changing your thinking and attitudes, you feel more of a sense of hope - and that hope is inspirational, knowing that a better day is soon coming because you are becoming a better you! It's almost guaranteed; remember, patience is a form of action.
That story always drove home poignantly the value of gratitude. Gratitude is the response of souls who humbly and readily acknowledge the good that others have done for them. It protects them from thinking that the world owes them something. Not without reason, gratitude is called the rarest of flowers in the garden of virtues.
I'm conducting a survey for inputs into my new book in 2008, and need your help. A question for you: 
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