Dear Linda Z., especially for you.

[JesseJoe]

quote:

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God, dogs and hearts

I have a story about a special dog and how God brought him into my life. We needed each other!

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His name was Chester. I was walking through the Euclid Arcade on my lunch hour one Friday in November, and there he was. Front half dog, back half warthog. Timid but with a very tiny glimmer of hope in his eyes. Far from a pup. Not likely to win any beauty contests.

I had a quick conversation with myself. "Just keep walking, Linda. You're on the road too much. You work all day. The poor thing would be alone too much. You already have a cat and a bird. Don't even think about it."

I tried, but I couldn't stay away. I walked over to the animal shelter people who were trying to find Chester a home. I petted him and he looked up at me with lonely, frightened eyes. "May I walk him around the arcade, to see how he responds to me?" I asked.

Chester and I set out for our little jaunt. He was so curious about each of the little shops in the arcade, but he'd timidly look over at me for permission before sticking his nose near the entrance and doing his doggie inspection. I was worried because he was older, and I was afraid adjusting to a new home would be too hard on him. They told me he was 6. (Ha! More like 12, said my vet.)

I handed Chester's leash to the woman and said, "I need to think about it." I wanted to do what was best for Chester, and I knew what a big responsibility it is to have a dog, if ya do it right.

The picture of Chester hesitatingly exploring the shop doorways wouldn't leave my mind. I argued with myself, "He's old. You're just setting yourself up for a heartbreak."

I couldn't stand leaving him at the pound. Later that day I called the animal shelter. "Is Chester still there?" I asked. "Yes." "Has he been there long?" "Yes. He was due to be put down twice, but he's such a special dog, we've kept him in hopes of finding him a good home." I said, "How late are you open?"

And thus it began.

I picked up Chester the next day and brought him to his new home. They told me to watch him carefully, because he'd been adopted twice before and had run away both times. He was pretty despondent, but extremely well behaved. I suspected he had belonged to someone who had died. It's obvious he had been loved well and for some reason left behind, and that he was grieving and extremely wary.

This little funny looking-dog (he looked like half English setter and half Scottish terrier, and he really did have a back end like a warthog's, a broad chest like an old-time boxer and hair like Don King's) won the hearts of all who met him. He had a gentle, wise way about him and the sweetest, most obedient disposition I'd ever seen in a dog.

It took about a month, but Chester perked up little by little and came to feel at home with me. In the process, he melted my once-hardened heart. Between my departure from twi and some other devastating events afterwards, I'd pretty much shut my emotions down. Together, Chester and I learned to reach out and care again.

Then came the bad news. Chester had a very aggressive form of cancer. The prognosis was not good.

Some friends said, "Just have him put to sleep." Under some circumstances I might have, but I made up my mind that as long as he was comfortable, I would get him whatever treatments the docs thought would keep him that way--as long as he wasn't suffering. Nevertheless, I knew I wouldn't have him with me long.

A few months later, we did Chester's Last Vacation. I loaded him into the car and drove up to the ferry at Catawba, and off we went with some friends of mine to a little island in Lake Erie. We took walks. We ate whatever we liked. We strolled on the beach. Chester's favorite activity was riding in the golf cart!! He'd sit beside me, his Don King hair flying wildly in the breeze, just as happy as a dog could be.

I made up my mind that however long Chester had, he was going to be pampered and spoiled and treated to whatever his little heart desired. A couple months later it became evident that the treatment was not working and was beginning to cause him distress. I called my vet and said, "It's time."

I took that day off work to spend with Chester. We went to Burger King. We went to Dairy Queen. I brushed his wild hair. I hugged him a lot. I comforted myself with the knowledge that the one short year I'd had Chester with me, I'd given him a safe home and a lot of love that he probably wouldn't have had otherwise. He'd had a human "Grandma and Grandpa" and family who'd adored him unabashedly. He'd had a place in my heart and I in his.

Chester died quietly in my arms. He was at rest. I cried my eyes out and my vet cried with me, but God gave me such peace I can't even describe it.

I have no doubt that God brought Chester into my life to open my heart. Now I have Emma, another terrier mix who's young and healthy and full of pi$$ and vinegar and looks like she could be Chester's granddaughter (she has his Don King mane). She'd been poorly trained (or not trained at all) and dumped at the shelter by a family from a ritzy suburb who probably grew impatient with her. She's sleeping nearby as I type this, enjoying the good life. Slowly but surely she's learning her manners, and she's nuts about me. It's mutual.

God's taught me a lot through these two pooches. About trust and unconditional love and forgiveness. That's how personal our God is. He knows exactly what it takes to reach into our hearts and heal them. And in my case, He's given me the opportunity and privilege to help a couple of His little creatures that needed my love while He was at it. Our Father don't need no steenkin' "No pet policy"!!

Linda Z.

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Jesse

[laleo]

What a sweet story. Thanks for posting it, Jesse. And, Linda, thanks for sharing it.

[Linda Z]

You're wonderful. I don't know how you dug this up after so long, but I appreciate your remembering all this time that I was looking for it. What a special act of kindness!

Update: Emma's still with me, driving me crazy sometimes with her energy level but more than compensating for it with her sweetness level. Since I wrote this tribute to Chester, Emma's been joined by Molly the formerly abused cat with half a tail. They're good companions for each other while I'm at work, and they're more inclined to lick each other than fight. I love them both madly!

Linda Z

[JesseJoe]

Thanks, Laleo. I love that post!

Linda, I can't tell you how excited I was when I found this while I was searching the archived WayDale for something else. Made my day!!!

Your story again brought tears to my eyes as I read through it. I am always amazed at the role animals play in opening our hearts so hardness can be desolved.

Your discription of Emma reminds me of the balance I see in all relationships. Even mine with GreaseSpot. Does the good I get out of it more then compensate for the times it drives me crazy? Got to say yes to that one!

Glad to hear about Molly. It is important for Emma to have someone to hang with while you are away. Heck, even when you are there. Companion animals need companionship. Sounds like you got a great pack!

Jesse