There is no psychiatrist in the world like a puppy licking your face.

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"If you pick up a starving dog and make him prosperous, he will not bite you; that is the principal difference between a dog and a man."~Mark Twain

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Just when you think life is a bitch, it goes and has puppies.

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Some days you're the dog; some days you're the hydrant.

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Some days you're the dog, some days you're the hydrant.

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"He is your friend, your partner, your defender, your dog. You are his life, his love, his leader. He will be yours, faithful and true, to the last beat of his heart. You owe it to him to be worthy of such devotion."~Unknown

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CHEYENNE

By Catherine Moore

'Watch out! You nearly broadsided 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. 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 and 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 Cheyenneexplored 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 andCheyenne lying quietly at his feet.

Dad and Cheyenne were inseparable throughout the next three years. Dad's bitterness faded and he and Cheyennemade 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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If you missed the post where I told you all about the pet food company that will deliver your dog and cat food to you whenever you want them too, here's the post:A New Contest- get Free Dog Food.

I want to congratulate LabMama for winning the free dog from PetFlow.com!

Got to tell you dog lovers, I signed up for this service myself and it's great!

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Recently we were asked to try out a new Spots'Skinneez dog toy. Being that Buddy loooves dog toys, I thought he would be the perfect pup to try it out. As usual, I need to add the disclaimer that I did not get compensated for this review although I did get the dog toy for free.

First let me tell you what is different about this toy. The body doesn't have any stuffing. There is some stuffing in the head, and that's where the squeakers are. Because these toys don't have stuffing, they last longer and if your dog does eventually rip it apart, you don't have to worry about stuffing all over the place.  Also due to the lack of stuffing, they flop over like real prey would. Another advantage is they can be washed. And they have securely sewn-on eyes, ears and tails for added safety.

So now you may be wondering how Buddy liked it.  Although he has a boat load of toys, Buddy has 2 favorite toys. A bumpy pink ball and a rope toy. This skinneez duck is his 3rd favorite. He carries it around wherever he goes. He's only had it for about a week so I can't be a witness as to how well they actually do hold up. But as much as he has played with it, it still looks practically new.

You can get the Spot's Skinneez dog toy at most pet retailers or online at Ethical Pet. Here's the link to the mallard toy that Buddy got: PLUSH SKINNEEZ MALARD DUCK.

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"The average dog is a nicer person than the average person."~Andy Rooney

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"I wonder if other dogs think poodles are members of  a weird religious cult."~Rita Rudner

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"We've begun to long for the pitter-patter of little feet…so we bought a dog. Well, it's cheaper and you get more feet."~Rita Rudner

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"Dogs come when they're called. Cats take a message and get back to you."~Jerry Seinfield

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Money will buy a fine dog, but only love will make him wag his tail!

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Ok, bloggy doggies, why can't you 4 pups do this? Take a lesson from this little guy!

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My neighbor has a dog that's a snob. His name is Fido but he spells it Phydeaux.

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Did you hear the story about the dyslexic agnostic insomniac who lay awake all night wondering if there was a dog?

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"A dog is the only thing on earth that loves you more than he loves himself."~Josh Billings

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"Dogs feel very strongly that they should always go with you in the car, in case the need arise for them to bark violently at nothing right in your ear."~Dave Barry

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"In order to keep a true perspective of one's importance, everyone should have a dog that will worship him and a cat that will ignore him."~Dereke Bruce

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This poor little puppy!

Why do my legs look funny? Well, it's quite the sad story. An 8 year old child threw me across the room and both of my legs are fractured. When the family couldn't afford to fix them, they took me to the shelter. Yes, they will make sure someone gets in trouble for that but now, it's time to look forward to a day when I can run again like the puppy that I am. My surgery will cost almost $4000! and is scheduled for Monday, June 21st. Please say a little prayer for me and if you are able to help, make a donation to help with the expense of fixing my legs. I will need a minimum of 8 weeks crate rest afterwards so foster mom says we aren't even thinking about adoption yet – just getting better! If you are approved contact Kathy: 717-491-1942 or yorkierescueme@gmail.com.

Go here for info on getting approved:

http://yorkierescueme.com/adoptionprocess.asp

And if you can't adopt, please help with Miranda's surgery costs by donating whatever you can. Go to http://yorkierescueme.com/ and look for the link on at the top left hand side to donate. You can donate by paypal, by mail or phone or even donate your old cell phone.

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OMG! These little puppies are so freakin cute! If these little guys don't put you in a good mood, nothing will.

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• Dogs spend all day sprawled on the most comfortable piece of furniture int he house.
• They can hear a package of food opening a half a block away, but don't hear you when you are in the same room.
• They can look dumb and lovable at the same time.
• They growl when they are not happy.
• When you want to play, they want to play.
• When you want to be alone, they want to play.
• They leave their toys everywhere.
• They do disgusting things with their mouths and then try to give you a kiss.

CONCLUSION: They are tiny little men in fur coats.

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