Winning Words 4/22/09
“Who knew that dog saliva could mend a broken heart?” (Jennifer Neal) Lucy yells, “Dog germs, dog germs!” when Snoopy suddenly licks her face. But someone with a broken heart doesn’t seem to mind at all. Most of us have our dog stories, and all of us can tell of broken hearts. Sometimes the two go together. “Old Shep” is a song that fits…in a way. ;-) Jack

OLD SHEP
When I was a lad
And old Shep was a pup
Over hills and meadows we'd stray
Just a boy and his dog
We were both full of fun
We grew up together that way
I remember the time at the old swimmin' hole
When I would have drowned beyond doubt
But old Shep was right there
To the rescue he came
He jumped in and then pulled me out
As the years fast did roll
Old Shep he grew old
His eyes were fast growing dim
And one day the doctor looked at me and said
I can do no more for your dog
With hands that were trembling
I picked up my gun
And aimed it at Shep's faithful head
I just couldn't do it
I wanted to run
I wish they would shoot me instead
He came to my side
And looked up at me
And laid his old head on my knee
I had struck the best friend that a man ever had
I cried so I scarcely could see
Old Shep he has gone
Where the good doggies go
And no more with old Shep will I roam
But if dogs have a heaven
There's one thing I know
Old Shep has a wonderful home

FROM OUTHOUSE JUDY: There is nothing like the love of a dog for its master. My greatest heartbreaks have come from having our dogs die. There was Schatize, Laddie, Taffy, Buddy, and the dearest..SuSu. Now both of our offspring and families have dogs....Chief and KoKo.....all mutts and rescue dogs. Dogs love so unconditionally it's hard not to have your heart broken when they pass. But the years of sad eyes, no no's, get downs!, tail wags, licks (yes, dog germs and all), and pure boundless love make it all worth it!

FROM J.N. IN MICHIGAN: So many dogs, so many stories. Research now tells us what humanity has known for generations--that dogs, and cats, can comfort us, lift our spirits, help us heal, and so on. My favorite dog/cat story is this: call a dog and they come; call a cat and they take a message and tell you they'll get back to you later.

FROM MOLINER C.F.: Go to you tube.com and search Jimmy Stewart. or Johnny Carson. Jimmy does an "Ode to Beau" that's a tear jerker. Worth the time to find it.

ODE TO BEAU
He never came to me when I would call
Unless I had a tennis ball,
Or he felt like it,
But mostly he didn't come at all.
When he was young
He never learned to heel
Or sit or stay,
He did things his way.
Discipline was not his bag
But when you were with him things sure didn't drag.
He'd dig up a rosebush just to spite me,
And when I'd grab him, he'd turn and bite me.
He bit lots of folks from day to day,
The delivery boy was his favorite prey.
The gas man wouldn't read our meter,
He said we owned a real man-eater.
He set the house on fire
But the story's long to tell.
Suffice it to say that he survived
And the house survived as well.
On the evening walks, and Gloria took him,
He was always first out the door.
The Old One and I brought up the rear
Because our bones were sore.
He would charge up the street with Mom hanging on,
What a beautiful pair they were!
And if it was still light and the tourists were out,
They created a bit of a stir.
But every once in a while, he would stop in his tracks
And with a frown on his face look around.
It was just to make sure that the Old One was there
And would follow him where he was bound.
We are early-to-bedders at our house--
I guess I'm the first to retire.
And as I'd leave the room he'd look at me
And get up from his place by the fire.
He knew where the tennis balls were upstairs,
And I'd give him one for a while.
He would push it under the bed with his nose
And I'd fish it out with a smile.
And before very long
He'd tire of the ball
And be asleep in his corner
In no time at all.
And there were nights when I'd feel him
Climb upon our bed
And lie between us,
And I'd pat his head.
And there were nights when I'd feel this stare
And I'd wake up and he'd be sitting there
And I reach out my hand and stroke his hair.
And sometimes I'd feel him sigh
and I think I know the reason why.
He would wake up at night
And he would have this fear
Of the dark, of life, of lots of things,
And he'd be glad to have me near.
And now he's dead.
And there are nights when I think I feel him
Climb upon our bed and lie between us,
And I pat his head.
And there are nights when I think
I feel that stare
And I reach out my hand to stroke his hair,
But he's not there.
Oh, how I wish that wasn't so,
I'll always love a dog named Beau.

FROM MOLINER LIZ: Couldn't live without my labs!

FROM J.B. IN WISCONSIN: My heart is not broken, but because of some badly herniated discs, I have been nearly bedridden all month and my precious dog, Snoopy, has been my beloved constant companion. (I believe my husband could be nominated for sainthood for the outstanding care he has given me.) God has blessed me richly.