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After the passing of our precious Indy, our home was excessively quiet. How I missed the patter of paws and Indy’s head on my lap when he realized I needed a “hug.” Because Indy had been an informal therapy dog, I realized my next “child” would be a therapy dog. Not only would he or she bring us joy as a couple, but also many smiles and joys to others.

In addition to my desire for a therapy dog, Charles, my then-husband request’s was a non-shedding dog, which eliminated some of my choices. The decision was made. Our new child would be a Bichon Frise. As with our search for Indy, rescue Bichon’s were aged, ill, abused, etc. It was recommended that seeking a therapy dog would require a puppy to train for such service. As we awaited the birth of our little one, we didn’t know if we would have a boy or girl, as the breeders noted the girls had homes, if there were more males in the litter than female.  I realized God would bring us the little one He chose for us.

Our little boy was born on February 9, 2009 and what a beautiful, snowball of white, fluffy, fur. His breeder parents named him “Green” until he was adopted, and a special name chosen for him. We had purchased a pet booster seat for our baby’s safe delivery back to OK from KS. I still recall those moments with fondness. He was such a quiet little boy on his journey to his new home and so tiny, he was almost invisible in his seat.

Selecting the proper name was also a task, but Charles’ desire to name him overshadowed my choice. Boomer Woods was now our newest family addition. At a few weeks of age, I enrolled him in puppy class to begin his pathway of becoming a certified therapy dog. Boomer not only excelled in his puppy training, AKC good citizen training and certified pet therapy training, but he became a certified therapy dog days before his first birthday. He was ready to serve others and our therapy work touched hundreds of lives in hospitals, hospices, libraries, long-term care and national disasters.

When Boomer was three years of age, Charles left us to begin a new life with another. The bond between Boomer and I over the next seven years was impenetrable. When Boomer was unable to accommodate me on trips, Charles was frequently his pet sitter. Even with Boomer’s great love for Charles, he was always eager to return home to his favorite “hiding places”, “nests” and friends; pet and human during our therapy work.

I was devastated when Boomer became ill and passed quickly. As with humans that pass too early, so too did Boomer. He was aging, but not aged. God took Boomer from us on July 30, 2019. Now his paw prints have scarred my heart with Mo’s and Indy’s. I miss him every day and will forever. I know without a doubt God brings these furry children into our lives to bring “sonshine” to cloudy days and blue skies during storms, but above all, they will love us unconditionally without judgement. Ecclesiastes 3: 3 KJV “to everything there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven:”

When we departed for our new home in south FL, I pleaded with Charles, my then-husband for a new child; a fur baby; specifically, a Sheltie. My desire for a this breed had been after visiting with numerous Sheltie owners and learning of their sweet and gentle temperament. Certainly, their beauty and popularity of being a “mini” Lassie complimented their docile nature.

A few months after the loss of Mo, I began my search for this new addition, hoping to adopt a rescue Sheltie. I rapidly learned most seeking adoption were aged, ill or had been abused.  After conversing with our veterinarian whom cared for Mo, he knew of a breeder selling puppies from a recent litter.  After the breeder’s numerous queries about my desire for one of her dogs and learning I had no desire for breeding, she informed me her one-year old show dog was for sale. He had grown .25 inches and  could no longer compete.

At our initial visit to see Indy, I was smitten. He was more beautiful than I had imagined. I realized why he had been a champion. He pranced and waltzed as though he was on display “in the ring.” I was in love with this little boy.  We couldn’t take him home that day due to medical examinations and documentation for the sale. What a jubilant surprise when I arrived home from work one day to be greeted with our beautiful boy and a large red ribbon loosely tied around his neck. Tears fell when I opened the door and Indy dashed toward me with Charles cheerfully citing, “Merry Christmas, Mommy.” That was the beginning of a 13 year-long love affair.

As a corporate dietitian, some of the long-term care administrators realized I had a Sheltie and requested he accompany me to work. Indy was a delight for the medical staff and patients. It was then I realized the healing powers for therapy dogs. We took many trips with Indy; far and near. He quickly became another child for us; albeit a “furry” one.  As we relocated from FL back to OK and then to TX, Indy was always a trooper. He adapted quickly and remained a close, cheerful and loving companion until he passed away at age 14. As with Mo, Indy left everlasting paw prints on my heart. It would be several years before I desired to add another four-legged child to our home,  for my love of Indy was so passionate. Ecclesiastes 3: 3 KJV “to everything there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven:”

Time passes and as we age, so too do our beloved pets. They become slower with age, but our love for them never does. Our love only increases.  This was the saga of our dear Mo. The creek behind our home and the security on and below our deck were his “safe place.” Despite his numerous “cat conflicts” with his fellow felines, he always returned home.

Our children had left the nest and my then-husband chose to take a job halfway across the country. Now we would be moving. What would Mo do? After an in-depth conversation with our veterinarian, his advice was to have Mo accompany us on our move east.  Even though the vet knew Mo was independent, he also advised that at Mo’s age, he would never survive. His “free range” days were over and after 12 years of calling our home; his, the only hope of Mo’s survival was to become a south FL feline.

The shady deck, heavily wooded lot and rippling creek were replaced with a lanai and pool which encompassed our entire back yard. When residing in OK, I never knew what awaited me as I greeted Mo each morning. He was filled with pride as his prey was displayed beside him. I shrieked with disgust, as I’m certain Mo was perplexed as to why I would not be as happy as he was, in presenting his gifts to us.

As Mo became ill from old age, I attempted repeatedly to bring him into our home for love and attention. However, as when he had been a toddler, his pleas to return to the heat and sun reminded me he had no desire to be a “house cat.”   I was saddened that his last years were in FL and not in OK with the freedoms of what he so greatly loved. Yet, I want to believe that when he passed at age 17, he knew he was greatly loved.

A few months later a new little boy entered my life; a beautiful Sheltie, Indy. Please follow me on my journey with Indy. Ecclesiastes 3: 3 KJV “to everything there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven:”

God brings them into our lives for a season; His season. Sometimes they are here for months or years, other times perhaps only days or weeks. They are family and friends; human and pets. I have mentioned the human friends previously. They came into my life and left, but always left their mark on my heart and life, but so too have my pet family.

As a child we had a cat, Fluffy for what must have been only months. I don’t recall his arrival nor his departure; merely the thought of having a cat named Fluffy. Years later my family welcomed one of my aunt’s litter of puppies, Frisky, a “Heinz 57” mix of joyfulness and vibrancy. As a poor family, he was never a part of our “inner home” or family.

Now as I reflect upon that little boy, I realize he was treated with cruelty, always tied to a tree or post; my parents’ mandate. He never entered our home and the love he received from us was merely a casual petting now and then. In the winters his warmth was a ramshackle, doghouse with a discarded, tattered blanket. His food consisted of the same government commodity corn meal mush which our family consumed for breakfast.

When I became a mother of two young children, I pleaded for a pet for our children; something for them to love, but their father was adamant, “no pets.”  Then when our children were seven and nine years of age, a bedraggled, cat believed our deck was his home. After probing the neighborhood for the cat’s owner, I learned he was an orphaned, homeless cat. I also ascertained he called our house his residence of choice.  The children called him Mo, an abbreviated name  for Morris The Cat, on the television commercials, as he could have passed for Morris’ twin. For the next 17 years, he was our first family pet. He refused to be confined in our home or garage on even the coldest winter night. Our displayed love for him of a warm bed and blankies was only rebuked, with consistent cries until we released him back to the outdoors.

Tears flowed heavily when he could not be located for days and sometimes weeks. Eventually he returned to the deck, most often suffering weight loss and the presence of bloodied ears and paws. Even though the veterinarian had altered his manhood shortly after he joined our family, his desire to travel and roam was truly a part of his DNA. Please return tomorrow for the remainder of this journey.  Ecclesiastes 3: 3 KJV “to everything there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven:”

As I drove behind a newer model, attractive van yesterday, I was taken aback by the license tag; Whttrsh.  Why would anyone use these letters for the words “white trash “on their vehicle? Was there a meaning I knew nothing about? I was saddened when I read that, for I was unsure of the person (s) whom chose that. Did they feel inferior to others? Did they feel they were refuse which was to be discarded? Was it a joke?

Do we portray persons we are not? Do we give the impression we are lesser people than God created us to be or do we appear to be greater than what God desires us to be? Years ago, while attending seminary, I was perceived as a person I was not. I was viewed as wealthy and aloof. When I leaned of this, I was distressed. I was reared in a poor home on government commodities to abusive parents. My self-esteem had been so destroyed I could barely utter my name without feeling inferior.

It appeared my wardrobe presented an erroneous image of the person I was. At age 10, while in the local 4-H club, I learned the aptitude of sewing.  God enabled me to develop that talent to become a very competent and skilled seamstress; winning first place annually in our sewing competitions. From the age of 14 through much of my adult life, this gift allowed me to develop a customer clientele for lined wool suits, wedding dresses and dozens of custom designed ensembles. When I arrived at seminary my wardrobe consisted solely of garments made with my hands. God provided the finances for my college expenses and the fabrics to make these outfits, from my first job at 25 cents an hour to cleaning houses and babysitting while in college.

How could anyone think the shy and emotionally beaten teen from a poor family was one of wealth? I didn’t deliberately portray something I was not. I believed presenting my best image of the person God created me to be was what He desired of me. Therefore, when I read the tag that someone touted, they were “white trash”, I felt melancholy. As God’s children we should be grateful for the persons He created us to be. No matter our status, our race, our socio/economic background, we are persons to be cherished and loved. Matt: 5:48 NKJ, “Therefore you shall be perfect, just as your Father in heaven is perfect.”

Who could possibly desire to smoke “weed” when our highs in the Lord are far greater than anything we would smoke? I have never smoked even a regular cigarette, so can’t speak to anything “smoked”, but certainly have heard folks talk about the experience. I know every day of our lives can’t be a mountain top encounter. However, I know that when seeking God’s direction for us, even the valleys can be filled with “son” shine and fragrant flowers.

If we allow it, the daily elements of life can rapidly pull us into dark valleys of despair, disappointment and frustration. Each of us also realize that often while attempting to seek only the positive of life among the cacti, Satan will try us to the maximum.  We comprehend the more we seek God, the more Satan is there is tempt us. I’ve heard several pastors and bible study authors say recently, “when Satan has us in his grasp, there is no need to entice us.”  I have to remind myself of this when I see persons whose lives have very few or minor trials. I have compared myself to them, asking God why, when I’m trying so diligently to do what He wills and to be where He desires me to be, must I be the one that has been stung, burned and scarred by life? God reminds me He knows this, but He is with me.

I will never forget the wise words from one of my Christian counselors. I shared with him that as a Christian I didn’t wish to be angry. He queried me in-depth about this concern. I informed him, it would be detrimental to my testimony. His reply took me off guard. “God gave us the emotion of anger, so it’s fine to be angry. However, it is what we do with the anger which matters.” I reflect on that often while tussling with life. When I’m in the valley, I choose to climb up and out as rapidly as possible to experience God’s high for me. Emotions such as anger prevent us from experiencing the joys God desires for us. Psalm 28:7 NIV, “The Lord is my strength and my shield; my heart trusts in Him, and He helps me. My heart leaps for joy, and with my song I praise Him. “

When you have those times of life when you are discouraged and if you live alone with no one to converse with, do you reach out to a friend for a word of encouragement? Do they “listen” with their ears and hearts? Perhaps, they are too eager to give their opinion.  It’s not always words of inspiration, but quite often adverse.  These persons may choose to diminish our heartaches, to validate their circumstances are worse than ours. We understand life is not always ideal. Nonetheless, we seek the “gift of encouragement” during these perplexing situations.

Isn’t it wonderful that because God always knows our needs, He often gives us what our fellow mankind refuses?  After reaching out to a friend while encountering a particularly arduous situation, I realized they lacked understanding or concern. God knew this even before I telephoned the friend or read His word.

As I read my devotional, Chuck Swindoll shared what I needed, “encouragement is the opposite of discouragement. Hope is the opposite of despair. When you accept the fact that sometimes seasons are dry and times are hard and that God is in control of both you will discover a sense of divine refuge, because the hope is then in God and not in yourself.”

However, when you know someone has confided in you seeking encouragement, I trust you will use God’s gift of “hearing and listening” to be an inspiration to them. Romans 5:3-4 NKJ, “And not only that, but we also glory in tribulations, knowing that tribulation produces perseverance; and perseverance, character, and character hope.”