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[NightmarePatrol]

Wow, that's news that's not welcome. I hope the chemo works. My parents dog went through that and lived another 5 years. Best of luck to Jack and you as well.

[CindyLouWho]

good luck to Jack!  Sounds like his odds are pretty good for a romp or two on the beach.    Keep us posted. good to see you back BDave.

[shortcircuit]

Good luck to you and Jack!

[Puffin]

  Do you all think I should ask for a 25% discount?  

LOL!!

[Zipper]

Caring for an ill pet is a difficult thing. I was looking online to see about dogs and chemo and they say that the dogs react well to it. (I wonder if they lose their hair?)
Remember, we are here if you need a place to vent, laugh, cry, or whatever.

(((hugs)))

[precisionpest]

hello to everyone. sorry i was away, it was a financial problem  that has given me fits. thanks to all who helped do the fliers & printing costs,(lock,zip,sun, & others!). the last sighting of him was again down on 618 by me p a few weeks ago, this time he had an orange collar on him, so he may be in somewhere warm(thank god!), out of the snow & cold weather. my health is fine, walking excellent right now, just have to be careful in this danged snow! my phone is also working again. again thanks to all for your warm wishes. jim

[shortcircuit]

SOOOOOOOOOOOO glad to see you back Pest!  ((((((((((((((((((((huggles)))))))))))))))))

[Amidala]

 Welcome back Pest!! Good to see you in the virtual 'hood!

[Puffin]

Glad your back Pest, and that Scooter is still in the hood .

[gennygirl]

pest,  glad to see you back.  im still keeping my eye out for  Scooter, and have my sis doing the same. 

[lifefeedsonlife]

hey pest!

[E-L Man]

Pest, welcome back.

[Zipper]

Pest, Lock and Sunflower are the ones who provided the funds for the fliers and Tribune ad.
 
And now... for a nice story that was in my email today. Not likely true, but a nice read with a good message:
 
      "Watch out! You nearly broad sided that car!" My father yelled at
me.
 "Can't you do anything right?"
 The 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 o rders.
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 cli nics 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 hip
bones 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 th e 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 is 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 know ing 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.
 Life is too short for drama or petty things, so laugh hard, love
truly and forgive quickly. Live While You Are Alive. Forgive now
those who made you cry. You might not get a second time.

[Janetplanet]

My MIL had Alzheimer's - we were living the nightmare of existing and coping with a disease that didn't make any sense.  We had my MIL come and live with us because it wasn't safe for her to live alone. She was angry and often cried out that she would kill herself.  We were beside ourselves coping, but took it one day at a time and sometimes one hour at a time.  (even got to one minute at a time).  I had lost my dog a year or so ago and wasn't ready to take on the responsibility of another dog - especially with the demands of my MIL.  A friend of mine was traveling through WVA and saw a liter of puppies being thrown off of a bridge.  He was only able to save one of them.  He tucked this dog under his coat and brought her back to PA.  Long story short he asked me to hold her and it was love at first sight.  My husband was very sad that I was going through so much with his mother and when I brought the puppy home he was thrilled to tell me that we would welcome this pup into our household.  He told me whenever my MIL became too much to handle I could say I was taking the dog for a walk and excuse myself from the "insanity" of dealing with someone who had Alzheimers.  Maxine became a part of our life and she was walked so many times that my neighbors even commented that she was the best walked dog in the neighborhood.  That dog saved my sanity.  She also had some habits that were almost funny.  She would empty my MIL's pockets.  She would come up behind her rocking chair and gently remove her kleenix in her pockets, and whatever else she had in her pockets. Would lay them gently on the ground and just lay there.  Some time later my MIL would notice that her kleenix were gone and she would go in the other room to fill up her pockets.  This would go on over and over again throughout the night, something that we would almost become used to.  It was like living in a strange world, but with the dog it made sense.  Mom hated this dog, but every night when she went to bed Maxine laid on the floor next to her bed and stayed there until I went to bed, and then she joined me.  When MIL was difficult, Maxine would go in and piss on her floor.  What wonderful memories.  This dog was helping with the most difficult thing we ever did, and I am so grateful to have her in my life.  Dogs are powerful energy and I am so glad to have that energy in my life.
Janet

[Zipper]

Awesome story Janet. Thanks for sharing with us about Maxine and your MIL.
 
I have been meaning to ask you how you are getting along? You posted both you and hubby lost your jobs and insurance this year.