After reading so many dreadful stories with ASUU at work and little job to do i came across this story from a facebook page,but i said what the hell it would take nothing from me c n p- ing. So just enjoy the story especially for those of us with parent wahala,its a beautiful piece to dwell your today thought on.**********************************************
A father, a daughter and a dog “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 powers. 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. “Do not neglect to show hospitality to strangers, for
by this some have entertained angels without knowing
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.