For Millie...the nicest shar pei that ever lived..

Millie, our Shar Pei passed on last March.

She'd been dragging a bit, but the Vet said she was okay; so we took her with us for a month in Florida. On the first night out she was terribly sick.
The next morning we took her to a local vet outside Richmond. He thought it was the car ride; but Millie had happily joined us on many journeys and we were uncertain.

We went on..a bit more slowly..stopping an extra night along the way before going on to Marathon. She didn't get sick again, but it didn't take a vet to say that things were not good. We went straight to her favorite "puppy park" and she managed to chase a slow moving gecko; but that night she couldn't eat. She patiently stood while we fed her Ensure through a syringe.

She slept; but in the morning we asked a neighbor to recommend another vet. He took X-rays and even I could see that her esophagus had swollen to fill most of her throat and all of her chest. There was nothing he could do and finally, feeling like we were betraying her, we let him put Millie into her final sleep.

We spent the rest of the vacation at the cottage we had rented, trying to keep busy with one thing or another and trying to convince ourselves that we had done the best we could. It didn't work very well.

We found a nice box for her ashes and returned in a very empty car to a very empty house. She is buried under the lilac bush with a small angel statue standing guard

Somewhere along the way home I misplaced my bible and it almost seemed like I had misplaced God. I had been given the responsibility of loving that little creature; but I had been inadequate. The words, "If only I'd...." kept popping into my mind.

But life goes on. March turned into April and we celebrated the first grandchild wedding.
Every step I took was painful and I was looking forward to having my knee replaced. I had been bothered by it for a year before we went to Florida, seen a couple of surgeons, and finally made arrangements with a well known surgeon to do it on May 10.

The surgery took my mind off Millie. It was very successful, but it required most of my time and efforts to get the new knee to operate in coordination with the rest of me. By July I was really feeling like myself again, with the exception of the empty place in our house and hearts.

Finally, we decided to look for a new Shar Pei, it would be our third (Mei Lei had come before Millie and was also buried in the back yard.

Finding a, can we say it.."replacement", dog was not easy. We saw quite a few Shar Pei's and then saw an advertisement for home-grown Labradoodles. I had never seen one before.

We sat in the breeder's backyard and watched as her two remaining puppies chased each other across a porch while the parent dogs watched from behind a tall fence.

I was dubious, but suddenly one of the pups laid down right in front of Rol, spread her legs out in back of herself like a little frog. It has been Millie's favorite position and we were smitten.

We picked the puppy up the next day, took her to Millie's vet, and bought her on the way home.

Do I feel less emotional about Millie..No, I used up several tissues writing this.
Do I think we are nuts bringing home another dog when we are 80 years old? Probably.

But life without Millie will not change. Life with a dog companion can go on and so we are back to potty training, leash training, vet visits...but we have a purpose and a friend. Life goes on.

What if There is No God!

He was about twelve years old; the freckles on his face gave him a Tom Sawyer appearance. A week at the beach had tanned his face and reddened his nose. When he saw our church banner, he strode across the boardwalk and paused in front of a pile of children’s books. Deliberately pointing his small finger at a colorful book titled “God loves you” he loudly proclaimed, “There is no God!!! It’s all a Big Bang.”

I was admittedly taken back; such authoritative misinformation from such a small person. I countered as pleasantly as I could, “Who started the Big Bang?” But it was no use. He became angry and shouted, “It’s all a Big Bang,” again and left.

An hour later he was back, walking with adults along the boardwalk. I turned to a companion and said, “There’s my friend.” The boy overheard and shouted back, “You’re not my friend,” and hastened to catch up with his companions.

And he was right! I had not been his friend. I had fenced with him on a childish level; but his faith was well established in the anti-God world of pseudo-wisdom. What should I have done? What should I have said?

How I longed to hug him, to point to the sky above, to show him the size of the universe. I wanted to talk to him about the complexity and value of his own mind and body. But someone got to him before I did; and they had taught him that the whole world was without any purpose . . . that he was without value, without hope.

He was angry. Who could blame him! He wore his disbelief like a protective shield and shot his words like bullets. But he was the victim of his own words, and the repeated words of others. Where had that anger come from? There was no amusement, no challenge allowed, no room for intellectual discussion.

I thought of other children far across the world whose families strap them with bombs and send them into public places to do as much damage as they can do as they die. They sacrifice the young lives on an altar of anger; for what? So that they can live in a world controlled by fear and hate?

Our country has become a nation of frustration. We have locked God and godly argument out of our schools and educational institutions. Now we are in the grips of drugs, disenchantment, frustration, and hopelessness.

Over the years we had been welcome at our booth near the beach. The town chief of police supported our effort to give out smiles, hope, and encouragement. But this year there had been trouble. We had been shouted at; our quiet music drowned out by loud speakers pointed in our direction carrying music with words that caused my mind to despair. We had to get a lawyer there to allow us to continue. Policemen stood across the boardwalk to make sure that I didn’t pass a book or flyer to anyone. What has happened to my country, to the freedom I knew. Why did a little boy make me so sad. Why couldn’t I give him hope?