Yes, the title reads my dads. I have two. One created me and the other raised me. I love them equally.
My Father - I would not exist without him. I had him until I was 7 when the Lord called him home. I remember but sadly, as 24 years have passed, the memories grow dim. I remember that he made me a Coke float once only to have to eat it himself along with his because I didn't like it. I remember him giving me adult Pepto Bismo because my stomach hurt when my mom was in South Korea with a friend. I remember being in out living room in Manila, The Philippines and him showing me a picture in the paper of the boat that was bringing your car and some of our bigger stuff to us. I remember telling him not to say the s word and he told me all he had said was shoot. I remember that when my mom, brother and I came back to the States and he had to stay behind him calling us. And I vividly remember the day the men came. There was a white-haired man in a suit and a big, black older policeman. I answered the door in my pajamas and when mom came to the door I got in trouble for doing so. I went back to the couch where I had been watching cartoons and the policeman came and talked to me. Mom went on the porch with the white-haired man. My mom must not have latched the door because she fell through the door and landed on the hope chest that was sitting there and was weeping. This frightened me and I threw my blanket over my head and started crying and the policeman hugged me tight and told me everything would be okay. I still didn't know my father was dead. I don't remember being told. I just remember this scene. I miss my father and occasionally wonder what my life would be like if he were here. However, it was God's plan to take him home and God gave me an amazing man to love me as his own daughter.
My Dad - my dad came into my life the same year my father died. My mother and father were divorced when he died and my mother had started dating before we got the news. The summer my father died, after the funeral in Washington D.C., my mother thought it was best to leave as in Pennsylvania with our paternal grandparents and other family. We all needed to grieve together. We were there six weeks and when we came home we met Calvin. I am pretty sure I called him Kevin that whole first day. This man gave me three amazing sisters so he knew just what to do with another girl. He came to my school functions and sporting events. He chaperoned dances and came to spelling bees. He was there for my crazy teenage years and was the typical dad. Mom would say ask your dad, dad would say ask your mom and I finally learned to go to dad first. If he said yes it was an ALMOST sure thing! He made us do yard work (I hated it!), he ate my cooking as I was learning. He picked out my first car (I really did love that purple pickup) and was there for my high school graduation, walked me part way down the aisle at my wedding (my brother walked me the first half to symbolize my father and we met dad who walked me the rest of the way.) He'll be at my college graduation next year. All of the things my father was unable to be at in human form (I know he is there in spirit) my dad stepped up and did. I love him so much and am so thankful God sent this gentle giant to us.
My Pap - oh the stories about Pap. He is one of my favorite people on this whole planet! He has a great sense of humor but doesn't take any nonsense either...and he is a sore loser at Uno! Haha! He used to make and sell glass and some of my most treasured items came from his basement shop. The cookie jar (the wooden lid was made by my great grandpap) and the glass with my name etched on it. I loved spending my summers with them. Last June I devoted a whole post to him so I will end this one with I love you Pap!
My Grandpa S. - He has been with God since my freshman year of high school. My mom always tells stories of him being a toughie but I remember him as fun-loving and giving. Once I asked him for $20 (didn't really need it...just wanted to see if he'd give it to me) and he whipped out his wallet and handed it to me. Unfortunately I did this in front of Mom and she made me give it back...she was mad that he didn't even ask me what I wanted it for! (BTW, Mom, if you are reading this you owe me $20! LOL) He was a member of the country club in his town and he used to let my brother and I drive the golf cart while he played golf. He lived in a small town and ran his own business. He also fought diabetes for a long time and sometimes his sugars would get low and we would have to get food into him. Once, after having a wreck, because of his diabetes, he came to stay at our house and I had to help him dress his wounds. He said I was the best nurse. I miss him and hope he gets to play golf all of the time in Heaven!
My Grandpa J. - he married my grandma the year I was born. At one time they lived off a lake in Arkansas and we would go up and spend some time. Their house overlooked the lake and I loved looking out the window and watching the boats and wildlife. If you looked outside in the early morning you could see deer grazing and for a while they had a peacock living on their hilltop. Grandpa would take us boating and we would spend hours jumping off the dock! Now they live closer but going to their house is still fun. He likes to read and play dominoes. He is well versed in many subjects and likes to watch sports. He loves his cats and is a fan of Apple computer products. He is a good man and I love him!
Friday, June 22, 2012
Friday, June 1, 2012
The joys of dog ownership
Disclaimer: If you have a weak stomach DO NOT read this post. Don't say I didn't warn you.
I love my dogs. They are wonderful creatures and my life would be boring and sometimes lonely without them. They make me laugh, keep me company and keep our yard cat free. But some things they do are disgusting! My dachshund, Oscar, is a hunter. I will never forget the day he caught and killed a mouse and brought it in the house to lay at my feet. He looked up at me with such a proud look on his face and I screamed bloody murder - at which point he dove under the bed terrified! I was living with my brother at the time and he had to come save me from the dead mouse. Once it was disposed of I had to coax Oscar out from under the bed and tell him good dog. Oscar has also caught a bird out of the air and killed it, has brought me a living, baby snake to the back door (this also involved some screams on my part), and is a ferocious spider killer (well wolf spiders anyway.)
Last week, I heard Eric yelling at Oscar in the backyard. I didn't think much of it seeing as how stubborn Oscar is and I assumed Eric was trying to get him in the house. It turns out Oscar was carrying a dead rat (yes RAT) around in his mouth. We assumed he killed it (doxies were, after all, bred originally to chase and kill badgers in their burrows.) Then, on Tuesday, I look outside and discover he has another rat. I ran out screaming at him to drop it, which he does, and as I looked at it I realize that he probably didn't kill it but that it was already dead (no teeth holes.) I chase the dogs inside and leave the rat in the yard for Eric to pick up when he gets home. He does. About this same time I see Oscar with something in his mouth but by the time Eric and I get out there whatever it was is gone. We turn to see Katie (the boxer) doing something out of character for her and sure enough she had the rat. We both yell at her to drop it, which was a bad idea, as she decides that means play and starts running from us. Unfortunately, the back door is open and she runs inside with Eric chasing her trying to get the rat out of her mouth. All I can see is the tail. I turn the corner to our room and she is in her kennel licking her chops. Yep, she swallowed it whole! Now I am really concerned because three dead rats in one week isn't normal and I fear that someone is poisoning them. I call our vet who tells us that she must be made to vomit. We go to the nearest emergency vet and $80 later we have a very sick dog and a very slobbery rat (which the vet disposed of.) Yuck!
Now it is decided that the dogs cannot go outside without us. Every time they go out one or both of us book it directly to the corner where the rats were coming from (in my neighbor's unmowed grass naturally.) On Wednesday Dora (the mutt) is messing with something near the fence. I go out and see what I think is a small, dead mouse. I yell at Eric to bring a bag out to pick it up and when he does it squeaks. We look at each other and look in the bag and sure enough it is a living, breathing baby rat...so young it doesn't even have it's eyes open! Now I am torn between disgust for the disease carrying rodent and heartbreak knowing that one of those dead rats we had picked up was probably this baby's mother. I want to tell Eric to get rid of it but then I am also thinking about bottle feeding the dang thing. I tell Eric to deal with it and when he comes back in he tells me he couldn't put it in the trash can alive so he crushed it's skull. I looked at him and dissolved into tears. It was just a defenseless baby after all but it probably would have died anyway, right? I am tearing up a little right now just thinking about it. Sigh.
I love my dogs. They are wonderful creatures and my life would be boring and sometimes lonely without them. They make me laugh, keep me company and keep our yard cat free. But some things they do are disgusting! My dachshund, Oscar, is a hunter. I will never forget the day he caught and killed a mouse and brought it in the house to lay at my feet. He looked up at me with such a proud look on his face and I screamed bloody murder - at which point he dove under the bed terrified! I was living with my brother at the time and he had to come save me from the dead mouse. Once it was disposed of I had to coax Oscar out from under the bed and tell him good dog. Oscar has also caught a bird out of the air and killed it, has brought me a living, baby snake to the back door (this also involved some screams on my part), and is a ferocious spider killer (well wolf spiders anyway.)
Last week, I heard Eric yelling at Oscar in the backyard. I didn't think much of it seeing as how stubborn Oscar is and I assumed Eric was trying to get him in the house. It turns out Oscar was carrying a dead rat (yes RAT) around in his mouth. We assumed he killed it (doxies were, after all, bred originally to chase and kill badgers in their burrows.) Then, on Tuesday, I look outside and discover he has another rat. I ran out screaming at him to drop it, which he does, and as I looked at it I realize that he probably didn't kill it but that it was already dead (no teeth holes.) I chase the dogs inside and leave the rat in the yard for Eric to pick up when he gets home. He does. About this same time I see Oscar with something in his mouth but by the time Eric and I get out there whatever it was is gone. We turn to see Katie (the boxer) doing something out of character for her and sure enough she had the rat. We both yell at her to drop it, which was a bad idea, as she decides that means play and starts running from us. Unfortunately, the back door is open and she runs inside with Eric chasing her trying to get the rat out of her mouth. All I can see is the tail. I turn the corner to our room and she is in her kennel licking her chops. Yep, she swallowed it whole! Now I am really concerned because three dead rats in one week isn't normal and I fear that someone is poisoning them. I call our vet who tells us that she must be made to vomit. We go to the nearest emergency vet and $80 later we have a very sick dog and a very slobbery rat (which the vet disposed of.) Yuck!
Now it is decided that the dogs cannot go outside without us. Every time they go out one or both of us book it directly to the corner where the rats were coming from (in my neighbor's unmowed grass naturally.) On Wednesday Dora (the mutt) is messing with something near the fence. I go out and see what I think is a small, dead mouse. I yell at Eric to bring a bag out to pick it up and when he does it squeaks. We look at each other and look in the bag and sure enough it is a living, breathing baby rat...so young it doesn't even have it's eyes open! Now I am torn between disgust for the disease carrying rodent and heartbreak knowing that one of those dead rats we had picked up was probably this baby's mother. I want to tell Eric to get rid of it but then I am also thinking about bottle feeding the dang thing. I tell Eric to deal with it and when he comes back in he tells me he couldn't put it in the trash can alive so he crushed it's skull. I looked at him and dissolved into tears. It was just a defenseless baby after all but it probably would have died anyway, right? I am tearing up a little right now just thinking about it. Sigh.
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