There’s a trite saying that goes something like “You don’t realize what you have until you’ve lost it.” Many times its true meaning is overlooked because of its banality, and thus many are forced to learn the lesson the hard way, certainly not excluding myself.

School is generally not an emjoyable place to be for anyone who is young enough to attend. Just like everybody else my age, I possessed a strong aversion to anything remotely related to school, and therefore was always eager to leave. Every day I jumped out of my seat when the dismisaal bell rang and proceeded to walk out of the building as fast as possible without looking stupid.

Since I lived in a relatively rural area of town, I had approximately a two-mile trek to my house. Fortunately, I was not forced to walk to school; my parents graciously provided me with a bicycle. My father was adamantly abject to driving such a short distance twice a day, and whenever I would complain about having to ride, he would tell me that “it builds character.”

When I had “built character” all the way to the beginning of the dirt road that I lived off of, I would be enthusiastically greeted by my neighbor. This neighbor, of course, was not exactly civilized. No anthropoid could ever be capapble of that kind of loyalty or enthusiasm. No, my neighbor was of the species canis familiaris; she was a dog, specifically a German Shepherd. Her name was Reba.

Reba was a beautiful, friendly dog who, owing to my typical teenage angst, bugged the hell out of me. As I rounded the bend bordered by a white fence that marked the beginning of Dancing Horse Lane and Reba’s owners’ yard, I would be going as fast as my legs could pedal in the lowest gear that my bicycle had. Even though I was positive that I had almost reached Mach 1, Reba would be right behind me, running as fast as she could in an attempt to keep up with me. Her intentions were not malevolent, however; she just wanted me to stop and say hello.

This continued for quite a few years, and in all that time I never once stopped to return Reba’s greeting. Every day it would be the same; Reba would run silently behind my bike until we reached the edge of my yard, where she would always stop, sit down, and look longingly at me. I would then put my bike away in the garage and walk into my house, paying no heed to the loyal pet that I did not own.

When I reached home on one particularly dreary autumn day, I realized that Reba had not accompanied me. I walked over to my neighbor’s house, where I found Reba sitting in the front yard. When she saw me she immediately rose from her rest and sauntered over to see me, favoring one leg in a way that can only mean serious injury. As she reached me she accidently put too much weight on her right rear leg, causing her to collapse into a heap on the ground. I crouched down and noticed that her leg was, in fact, borken. Unfortunately I could not stay with her because I had to go home and call my friend, so I resolved to come back and check on her later.

It seems almost pointless now to say that I didn’t come back to check on Reba. No, I was a teenager with my oh-so-important teenage things to do, and so I had forgot about her. After school the next day, I looked in my neighbor’s yard and was surprised to see that Reba was missing. I rang their doorbell and there came to the door one of the most morose faces I had ever seen. She was a woman, about 50, with telltale gray streaks in her hair. When I asked about Reba, she nearly burst into tears. After she had composed herself, she had explained how Reba was hit by a car the day before, and when they took her to the vet they discovered that the impact had also caused Reba to bleed internally in such copious amounts that it was completely irreversible. In the end, she explained, they decided to put Reba down, rather than prolong her suffering.

To this very day, I often catch myself looking in my rearview mirror on the way home from work, half expecting to see Reba there, tongue hanging out of her mouth, running as fast as she can.

I’ve decided I’ve either lost my mind or am in the early stages of Alzheimer’s. What else could explain a 52-year-old grandmother to impulse “rescue” an ADHD puppy?
I was thinking I could return to my love of writing. After years of raising children and working, I’d enjoy my grandchildren, bake cookies and be a lady of leisure.

So, while driving along in my little dream world, I saw a sign in front of a house that said “German Shepherd puppies for sale.” I pulled into the driveway on impulse. The house, owner and yard were right out of Sanford and Son. The old coot that came out told me he used the “pup’s” parents for guard dogs. I guess he thought someone might want to steal his junk. :)

But, I fell in love with this 5-month-old pup that looked like a little black bear I felt sorry for him also. The dogs were obviously mistreated and meaner than all get out. So, I paid for him and loaded him in my Aztec and headed for home. My vision was to have a companion to lay at my feet and keep me company while I wrote wonderful stories and poems.

Things didn’t turn out quite like my vision. I named him Bear but should have named him Jerry Lee after that dog in the movie “K-9”.

I had every confidence he’d be a fine companion, well behaved and content… after all if I could work and raise three children I could certainly raise an obedient, wonderful, well-behaved puppy. NOT! I took him to companion dog school, bought him only Eukanuba puppy food, got all his shots, vitamins, toys, toothbrush and tooth paste, brushes and combs, cologne sprays. Yep, only the best for my Bear.

He totally flunked school. While everyone else’s dogs were obeying and learning Bear was dragging me around the room.

When I’d sit down or try to write, he’d nudge my elbow, bark and jump on me. When he gets excited he pees, when I rub his belly he pees. When I say “no bite” ignores me. He jumps on our bed and gets excited and pees. I think the “experts” and Animal Planet TV show either live in a fantasy world or use already trained dogs. Because I did everything they said to do. Could it be Bear is just unique?

My other vision of having a cool dog for my grandchildren to play with flew right out the window also. They are ages 2, 3, 4 and 6. By now Bear weighs close to 100 pounds and still tries to get in my lap. When our kids and grandkids are here, he has his nose in their faces, takes their toys and runs, nips at them when they quit petting him, jumps all over them and my very pregnant daughter-in-law.

I have to put him in our bedroom when they come over now because he won’t settle down the whole time they are visiting. Then, he tears apart our carpet trying to get out of the bedroom.

The whole neighborhood has watched Bear drag me around the yard when I take him out to do his thing. Many times without thinking about others hearing I will yell, “Just poop Bear! Come on Bear pee pee, it’s cold out here!”

Of course my whole day now is spent either dealing with Bear or cleaning up after him. And of course, he has a sensitive stomach. Can’t give him a scrap of food without him having diarrhea or throwing up…in the house naturally. Even a hard biscuit will do it. Geeze, all the pets we had when our children were younger had iron stomach’s and could eat anything.

But, guess what, I love him and he loves me. We are making progress, two steps forward, three steps back. So, I put up with washing all my bedding at least once a week (probably needs it anyway, huh?) and cleaning the carpet. I love getting on the floor and playing with him and I love his big old hugs and kisses and his loyalty and affection.

Yep, Bear a.k.a Jerry Lee a.k.a. retard to my grown children, is here to stay. I’ve had him one year now. I thought I wanted total peace and quiet but ended up loving this dog that gives me so much in spite of his wild nature. Besides, peace and quiet isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. A month of it was okay but then I found myself lonely and really quite bored after all my adventures in life.

I really must do something about him dragging me around the neighborhood though and I simply have to stop taking him out in my pajamas, my husbands old work boots and hunting cap. Well, summer’s coming.

Poor Dog

Usually when I get home I am greeted by Prozack. Yes that is her name, a 3yr old yellow labrador. She normally jumps for joy that I am back "Hello! Hello! You are back..now lets play....lets go for a walk...feed me". On this day she did not greet me at the door.

At first I was not to concerned, thinking "Ah, that lazy dog is still sleeping". Upstairs I went to check out her usual sleeping spot, on my bed (yes I spoil her). Hmm...that is strange she is not there, where could she be? Back downstairs I go, to find out what sort of trouble Prozack had gotten into. Prozack, Prozack, I yell! Not a bark, whine or whimper to be heard. You have to understand that Lab's are smart dogs, finding ways to escape from seemingly impossible situations. Could she have found someway out? No, all doors are closed and locked . Did one of my friends come and take her out to play? No, they would not do that without asking me first. Down to the basement, not there. Back upstairs and nowhere to be found on the main floor. I am now begining to get concerned, no sign or sound of her yet. Last place to search is back upstairs, maybe hiding in a closet? She has never done that before, but she must be somewhere.

Back upstairs I notice both doors to the bathroom are closed, could it be that she somehow locked herself in. I open the door and out slinks Prozack. Her tail is tucked between her tail, and has such a sad look on her face. I look into the bathroom, toilet paper shredded and all over the room. Linen closet open and towels everywhere. Doors scratched where she tried to escape, even being a lab she has not yet figured out that door-knob thing. Poor dog thinks she has done something horribly wrong, but how can you be mad when she did not mean to be trapped in the bathroom. The doors in the bathroom needed painting so no real harm done. Toilet paper shredded, I am a real man....pass me the sandpaper. Towels everywhere, usually like that anyways.

After letting Prozack know I am not mad, lots of hugs and dog kisses, she is back to her usual self. "Feed me, walk me, play with me". Lesson learned for me "Make sure bathroom doors are left wide open before leaving the house". Lesson learned for Prozack "If I lock myself in, I can have lots of fun and not get in trouble".

Last night, I stayed up pretty late to work on my daughter’s birthday party invitations. Around 2:30 a.m., I heard a couple of soft bumping sounds and then some rustling. I thought maybe one of the girls woke up and Eric came down to tell me to come up to bed. But as I waited in the TV room, Eric never spoke. Then, I thought, rapist-murderer, grabbed my exacto knife (only reasonable weapon from my location), and peeked out into the hall. Nothing at first, and then...............a great big bat went swooping through our dining room with a wing span of like 10 feet. Not quite 10 feet, but still, it was good sized. I ducked back into the TV room and grabbed a bathroom towel out of the laundry basket. Unfortunately, I'd yet to do my bedtime routine -- pee, teeth, face. I decided to proceed with that before getting rid of the intruder. By the time I was ready, I couldn't find him anywhere. I looked all over the downstairs, but since they can make themselves tuck into any little nook, it was impossible to know if he had stayed downstairs or flown upstairs. I crept up to my sleeping family very cautiously, gripping my towel/weapon for dear life. Nothing. I figured I might have a long wait 'til he came back out. I also thought Eric should be alerted to the situation. He was less responsive than I would have expected given his history with bats.

Background
Bat No. 1: Eric goes down to the basement, shrieks, and comes running back up, face beet red and eyes like saucers. A bat swooped him in basement. It was never seen again. Did it really happen???

Bats Nos. 2 & 3: At intervals a few years after bat No. 1, both 2 and 3 were found dead in our furnace filters.

Bat No. 4: Eric entered our bedroom, crossed the room, and turned to find a bat hanging from atop the bedroom door frame that he'd just walked under! Eric nearly passed out. He called to me in a voice never heard before or since indicating extreme alarm, similar, perhaps, to occasions of serious bodily injury. He tried to tell me not to come up, but clearly he's terrified. We then worked out a plan for him to knock the bat onto the ground, after which I was to immediately throw a blanket over him. Eric took ~20 minutes to work up the courage to hit the bat. The plan, however, worked fairly well despite the fact that the blanket, when thrown, floated like a feather down to the floor in a pile, completely missing the stunned bat.

Back to present
Eric told me to close all bedroom doors and go to sleep. Uhhhhh -- ok. So I did, but then it started to sink in for him and his mind started messing with him to the point where he couldn't go back to sleep and he wouldn't leave me alone. Finally, an hour later........flit, flit, flit... bat is in our room!! Was he there the whole time hanging above our heads from the window frame? Or did he crawl under the door? Eric woke me up in a panic. We hit the lights and the bat turned on us. We both screamed and ripped the covers up over our heads. Our bedroom ceilings are like 7 feet high, so the thing is flying pretty low. I got out of bed and grabbed my towel/weapon. The bat landed on our door frame. Eric couldn't see, and realized his glasses were on the dresser beside the door. Just then, he's off again. Eric screamed like a 10 year old school girl and dove for the bed. I started whipping my towel at it, but he was too dodgy. He went back to the frame. Eric was yelling at me to get it, but the thing was arching his little head up and bending his neck around to look at us. I was way too freaked out to walk up to it. I yelled back that I could only react in defense at which point it took off again and I was swinging like babe-f*cking-ruth! Eric’s cursing at it and hiding alongside the bed. I missed! One more round and I made contact!! Down he went at my feet and I threw my balled up towel on him. Eric joined me and scooped him up which is tricky if you’ve never done that. Just when we would think we had him, Eric would pick up the towel and he’d still be there squirming around on the wood floor. After that, and letting him go outside of course, Eric was like chatty-Kathy giving me the play-by-play replay.

When I left my Aunt Debbie’s hair salon, where I worked, the sun was melting into the ground. The sky was fading from pink and purple to a dark rich blue. Blue was my favorite color. My husband, Jack, had the most stunning sapphire eyes that you could just get lost in. He had died a few months back and I was still very sensitive about the subject.
I was running low on gas, but I figured that if I took the short cut through the woods I would make it. I was wrong.
About a ½ an hour into the dark creeping trees, I noticed a sudden decrease in speed. A while later my car slowed to a complete stop. I had no spare gas in my trunk like I usually do. I could just hear Jack saying
“Stephanie, the E means empty, not extra 10 miles!” He loved cars. He was fearless. His life motto was face your fears. That’s what got him killed. He was terribly afraid of heights, so one day he decided to go bungee jumping. The bungee snapped and he fell to his death. That was the worst day of my life.
I started to walk down the road to get some help, when I heard a jingle behind me. I turned and saw no one, but at my feet was a small tabby cat.
“Wow, you’re adorable,” I said as I picked him up.
His eyes where dark blue. I scratched behind his ears. He had a small collar with a bell and tiny tag that read “Jack”.
“I once loved a Jack.” Tucked under his collar was a tiny rolled up piece of paper. I took it out and set Jack on the ground. It read:

“Stephanie, you need to get out of the woods, NOW!”

I didn’t think about any thing. I picked up Jack and ran till I came to the main road. I hitch hiked back home. I called a mechanics and arranged to have my car brought to a shop.
The next morning, I woke up and devoured down a weak breakfast of scrambled eggs and toast. I fed Jack a can of tuna and left for work in an eerie mood. While I was listening to the radio I heard that three kids had been shot and killed by a drunk in the very same woods I had been in the night before.

“Mr. Tironsky, could you please explain the situation with your dog?” Detective Cooley asked as he sat down.
“Yes, well I have had Sammy since he was just a little pup. He… Susan can you please get me a cup of coffee.” Jacob Tironsky said to his wife who was pacing back and forth. “She… she is deeply saddened by the loss of Sammy. She has been by my side ever since I found out about him.”
“So, you had this Border Colley since it was a puppy?” Detective Cooley asked.
“Yes, he was a gift to me by my father. My father gave him to me just before he went to war and died. Sammy is all I have and he’s… gone.” Tears started to trickle down Jacob’s face.
“It is ok Jacob; I’m here.” Susan handed him his drink. “Sammy was just a dog. I am still here.”
“No! He wasn’t just a dog. Not to me anyways. See detective, I used to love to go hunting and Sammy would always help me flush out the birds.” Jacob paused as he sipped his drink.
“Did I ever tell you how he saved my life? It’s no great mystery that I have heart problems. It most likely is all those years of eating Susan’s delicious barbeque ribs. But anyways, one day my chest felt like it was caving in. I fell to the floor trying to breathe as best as I could. I figured I was goner, since Susan wasn’t home.”
“Yeah, Jacob said he was in the mood for steak, so I went to the market.. If I had known he was going to have a heart attack. I would have surely stayed home to help him.” Susan said as she sat down next to them and started to tap her fingers on the desk.
“Thank God I had Sammy.”
“No, thank God that the postman was coming around at that time. He saved you, not that stupid dog.”
“Sammy knew something was wrong with me. He ran to the road and barked as loud as he could to the mailman. That’s when he found me.”
“The dog didn’t do anything. I was the one who sat with you in the hospital. I waited for hours upon hours for you to get better. Not the dog. I was the one who would pay special attention to your medication when you got back.” Susan said with a hint of anger in her voice.
“She has been a wonderful wife to me. I don’t know what I would do if Sammy died and she wasn’t here.” Jacob said giving his wife a peck on her cheek. Susan’s face radiated with a smile from the attention Jacob was giving her.
“But what happened to Sammy?” Cooley asked.
“Well, one day I went to feed him with some chow. But there wasn’t any. So I asked Susan to make him a bowl and she said she would.” Jacob said as he put his hand on Susan’s. “I went to use the bathroom and when I came back Sammy was finishing his bowl.. He made a few whimpers and Susan told me to send him outside.”
“The dog had a problem of using my kitchen floor as a bathroom. I wasn’t going to clean it up, sick and tired of it.” Susan said holding Jacob’s hand tighter.
“Well I decided to let him out there and play in the sun. It was a nice day and Sammy loved to roll in the dirt. Well by the time nightfall was coming, I decided to go get Sammy back inside. But when I got out there, he… he… he”
“He was dead.” Susan finished.
“Yes.” Jacob cried.
“So you think some foul play was involved?”
“Sammy was a very energetic dog. Susan tried to tell me that maybe it was just his time to go. But I don’t believe that is possible. Sammy couldn’t have just up and died!”
“Detective, you know dogs die all the time from old age. I mean it is possible!” Susan stated in a defensive tone.
Detective Cooley took a deep breathe and examined Susan and Jacob.
“Well, I think… I think you guy’s will make it through this.” He looked at Susan very sternly. “I think you guy’s love each other greatly and that sometimes dogs do die from old age.”
“Thank you. I just needed to say what was on my mind.” Jacob said as he hugged his wife and gave her a kiss.
Detective Cooley sighed, inside him he knew the truth but he also knew that this was how it had to be. Who knew what he would do if he knew the truth. It was better this way, it had to be.

My father was notorious for bringing home other peoples hand-me-downs and throwaways. One day he came home with a powder blue parakeet. My sister and I named her Fancy then endeavored to teach her.
After months of trying to get her to talk we started to lose interest and just held and loved her. She was a very sweet bird that loved attention. My sister and I would let her out and watch her fly around. Unfortunately she could not land! She would fly around till she got tired and crashed into something to stop.
We were afraid she would get hurt so my father armed with a makeshift run way tried to teach her to land.
Like everything else we tried she just didn't get it. Ok we have a stupid bird that can't land, can't talk, and can't even sit on your finger! Thanks Dad! One day we were watching our bird "just sit" and noticed she waved at us! My sister and I instantly filled with joy waved back!
Our little bird learned to wave! Wow, every time we waved she did. This was the coolest trick! Till we figured out why. Her feet were deformed! Her nail had grown back into her leg. It broke our hearts! My sister and I ran to dad and asked "Can we take our bird to the vet?" I am sure being that we didn't have a lot of money growing up my dad heard: Dad can we take our free hand me down 10-dollar bird to the vet so you can be charge 400$ we don't have? But Daddies love their girls, so he took the bird to the vet. Well it didn't cost that much but the bird did end up losing a toe. Thankfully our little fancy bird would be ok.
Now my sister and I back to square on with a bird "just sitting" or so we thought! We leaned down to the cage and she waved. She remembered how to wave! We loved that dumb bird!

The eagle and the dove

Two birds by chance found themselves on the same branch in a marvelous old oak tree. It was a hot summer's day and the tree provided the necessary cover, cool shade and with a slight breeze, it was the best place to spend a lazy day. “Say,” said a wise old owl to the other. “Arn't you the fellow who helped that scoundrel the eagle?”
“I sure am,” said a white dove “But it was nothing ,really.”
“The way I hear it, you were some hero. Saved that bird from sure death and a fox at that.”
“Normally I don't get involved, but it was just pure reaction. It was probably the dumbest thing I ever did. I still get frightened if I brood about it. My feathers were a nice grey colour before this happened and look at me now, as white as snow.” He said.
“Can you tell me what happened?” Asked the owl.
“If you keep it to yourself, I think your smart enough to not spread this whole business to every corner of this forest.” The dove said. Looking around nervously I started to tell the tale. ”One day I was sitting in a tree not unlike the one I'm presently in, when I spotted, high in the clouds, a eagle soaring and circling the area. I tried to remain perfectly still not wanting to be a victim, although I knew that my scrawny body made me a very unlikely target. Suddenly, the eagle swooped down. I cringed in fear as I saw the eagle's shadow pass above the very tree I sat in. With one open eye, I saw the eagle fly down and was after two rabbits in a bramble bush. The rabbits were caught unaware and just managed to dart in separate directions as the eagle was about to strike. Their sudden action must have confused the eagle because instead of turning, he flew smack into the sharp thorns of the bramble bush. The eagle screamed in distress as he struggled in his new predicament. All his fusing must have awoke the curiosity of a passing fox. From my vantage place in the tree, I could see the eagle would be easy pickings for that fox, that's when I felt I should take action. I might be a little bird and all that, but let me tell you, I've been around the block a few times and I knew what to do. The fox was making his way closer as I swooped down in front of him. I made like I had a broken wing, and began chirping and trashing about. I made so much racket the fox just froze in his tracks. I felt a few feathers being extricated as the fox took a wild leap at me. Flapping furiously I didn't stop till I reached the highest limb in the tallest tree. I could see the eagle sitting in a tree across from me. I think I could see for the first time fear in those steel grey eyes of his. Shortly, he just up a flew away with not a wave nor any acknowledgement to what transpired. No, I do not want recognition or even a thank you from the eagle, it's not necessary. The eagle can't help being himself and as for myself, a gift given should not have conditions; we should be grateful just to have the opportunity to help, least we be called just dumb birds.“ was the dove's final words.

Once upon a time, in a very rich Upper East side apartment in New York City, lived a very rich lady named Ms. Basil who loved her pet poodle, Billions, very much.

This poodle was a fine mannered, well-trained dog who would not bark at anyone except the mailman and Mr. Flandry, when he occasionally came to court Ms. Basil. Therefore, no one except Ms. Basil suspected that this poodle also had super powers and was the city's mighty savior, Superb Dog. Together with his sidekick Splendid, a Yorkie b***h, they formed a male/female superhero team that generated sexual tension and solved supernatural crime.

To mask his abilities, Ms. Basil gave Billions a $300 Gucci sweater and a Versace water bowl. This way if anyone suspected that Billions was Superb Dog, all he had to do was put on his Gucci sweater and drink from his Versace water bowl and everybody would think he was just an ordinary rich lady's dog and they would stop asking him for autographs.

Billions was a very brave dog to do what he did. What a lot of people don't know is that criminals don't shower or take baths (In fact, a good way to figure out which little boys will one day become felons is to carefully monitor their bathing habits from outside their bathroom window) and so as Superb Dog, he often times would soil his garments and claws during crime battling and face a stern rebuke from Ms. Basil.

Not much could be said about Splendid, except that she was a beautiful b***h whose sulky gaze and red fur captivated anyone who saw her, including Billions, though their mutual desires were unspoken between them to generate ratings and keep the forum on their website active.

Superb Dog and Splendid went on many fun adventures, sometimes with Ms. Basil and Mr. Flandry on walks in the Park, but mostly with a pack of wild dogs.

There was the one time that the author of this article was threatening the city's water supply by trying to sleep, and Superb Dog and Splendid immediately came to the rescue, barking and howling all night until the city was rescued from this madman's menace. There was another time that the author of this article's newspaper stole the priceless Maltese Diamond and Superb Dog and Splendid heroically chewed it pieces in search of it. The time that Superb Dog used his laser pee to burn a hole in the author of this article's doormat was the most exciting adventure of them all.

THE END