Post by thewisefarmer on Dec 12, 2017 10:13:53 GMT
SNOWBALL
When my Rail-Roada dog was dying, I saw some puppies in the mall pet store window. Long ago, our dog Pappy and Roada had a litter of pups that looked just like these.
I went into the store and asked to look at these cocker terrier mixed pups. There were 6. Three were yellow and 3 were black. One of the black ones was a female. I picked her up and cuddled her. I set her on the floor and she would sit on my shoe close to me. She followed me around the store. Tears flowed.
I went to the pay phone on the mall and called long distance to my parent's home.
Between sobbing words, my mother pieced together broken pieces of my heart and the story they held. I knew Roada had to leave the earth soon. This little bundle of curls looked just like her puppy.
Mall shoppers gave nods of empathy as I stood in this public place sobbing about my beloved dog.
My mother calmly told me, "Buy the puppy. We will come up and help you with Roada."
My parents came and I held the pup in my arms when my dad buried by most beloved friend, Roada. The puppy kisses could not ease the grief, but the pup's tongue licked away my tears.
My parents returned home. The pup continued to give loving cuddles to no avail.
Christmas was approaching and the little pup that I had named "Shaalu Shalom" which means "prayer for peace" and my kitten Amissa took the plane ride home with me to California.
My parents home in the mountains held a peacefulness unlike could be felt within a city. The huge evergreen trees standing firm in the wind, clapped their branches with joy like the psalmist spoke of in the Bible. The raccoons, birds and deer came up to the porch to sweet talk my mother into sharing leftovers. Home felt good.
fell and built a winter wonderland around us. The wood stove gave off plenty of warmth and Christmas was filled with a serene calm of heavenly joy.
Shaalu was a black bundle of joy. I had prayed for a pup with beauty, sweet love and loyalty. Shaalu was all that. I had not prayed for her to have "brains" as I thought that was standard equipment. It wasn't. Shaalu was not smart, in fact later when I had the foster kids, they would say "I'm not stupid like Shaalu!" Course Shaalu was to stupid to even know she was being insulted, so it really didn't matter.
But alas, I was still potty training this brainless pup.
She would tell me that she needed to go out and with a pup you listen to that request. I would let her out and then she would forget why she was out there. The trips out and in and out and in and out and in and out were exhausting at home, but now oh now....
I would put the little black pup out and she would chase birds and roll in the white fluff that chilled her little paws. Bark at the coons and prance by the deer...this winter wonderland was a play ground made for a pup.
Then in she would come looking like a snowball. I would hold her on a towel by the fire and comb out that was matted into her fur.
Soon she was dry and fluffy black again. Then soon - yes, very soon - she would tell me she needed to go out again.
I was surprised at the end of the day that any was left on the ground. But that evening the hot chocolate and warm fire felt good as I settled down on the couch to enjoy the holiday....until....yeah, you guessed it - "I have to go out."
When my Rail-Roada dog was dying, I saw some puppies in the mall pet store window. Long ago, our dog Pappy and Roada had a litter of pups that looked just like these.
I went into the store and asked to look at these cocker terrier mixed pups. There were 6. Three were yellow and 3 were black. One of the black ones was a female. I picked her up and cuddled her. I set her on the floor and she would sit on my shoe close to me. She followed me around the store. Tears flowed.
I went to the pay phone on the mall and called long distance to my parent's home.
Between sobbing words, my mother pieced together broken pieces of my heart and the story they held. I knew Roada had to leave the earth soon. This little bundle of curls looked just like her puppy.
Mall shoppers gave nods of empathy as I stood in this public place sobbing about my beloved dog.
My mother calmly told me, "Buy the puppy. We will come up and help you with Roada."
My parents came and I held the pup in my arms when my dad buried by most beloved friend, Roada. The puppy kisses could not ease the grief, but the pup's tongue licked away my tears.
My parents returned home. The pup continued to give loving cuddles to no avail.
Christmas was approaching and the little pup that I had named "Shaalu Shalom" which means "prayer for peace" and my kitten Amissa took the plane ride home with me to California.
My parents home in the mountains held a peacefulness unlike could be felt within a city. The huge evergreen trees standing firm in the wind, clapped their branches with joy like the psalmist spoke of in the Bible. The raccoons, birds and deer came up to the porch to sweet talk my mother into sharing leftovers. Home felt good.
fell and built a winter wonderland around us. The wood stove gave off plenty of warmth and Christmas was filled with a serene calm of heavenly joy.Shaalu was a black bundle of joy. I had prayed for a pup with beauty, sweet love and loyalty. Shaalu was all that. I had not prayed for her to have "brains" as I thought that was standard equipment. It wasn't. Shaalu was not smart, in fact later when I had the foster kids, they would say "I'm not stupid like Shaalu!" Course Shaalu was to stupid to even know she was being insulted, so it really didn't matter.
But alas, I was still potty training this brainless pup.
She would tell me that she needed to go out and with a pup you listen to that request. I would let her out and then she would forget why she was out there. The trips out and in and out and in and out and in and out were exhausting at home, but now oh now....
I would put the little black pup out and she would chase birds and roll in the white fluff that chilled her little paws. Bark at the coons and prance by the deer...this winter wonderland was a play ground made for a pup.
Then in she would come looking like a snowball. I would hold her on a towel by the fire and comb out
that was matted into her fur.Soon she was dry and fluffy black again. Then soon - yes, very soon - she would tell me she needed to go out again.
I was surprised at the end of the day that any
was left on the ground. But that evening the hot chocolate and warm fire felt good as I settled down on the couch to enjoy the holiday....until....yeah, you guessed it - "I have to go out."
