Category: Reflections

Reflections

No More Chances …

This is not a typical post for me, but the recent death of a fellow karate instructor has been on my mind for a few weeks now, and I guess this is my way of dealing with it. I hope my readers will understand.

Suicide is an issue I have become much more attuned to over the last few years, especially since joining Veterans Referring Veterans and learning of the many private organizations that work to help prevent veteran suicides. The good news is that veteran suicide rates dropped from 22 per day in 2017 to 17 per day in 2021. Unfortunately, however, that is still far too many.

Of course, it is not just an issue for veterans.

We all know suicide is not an issue that exclusively affects veterans. And, anyone can reach a point in their lives where they are so desperate, so full of despair or pain, that suicide seems the only way out. And from my experience, it looks like the people who should know something is wrong, who might be in a position to reach out and help, are often shocked when someone they know commits suicide. Too often, you hear comments like, “I had no idea there was something so wrong,” or “Why didn’t he talk to me?” or “She seemed so … uh … normal.”

I am not sure why this is. Are these people just too busy to notice or did not care? I don’t think so. I know some of those people, and they do care … often they are teachers, close friends, or family members. It is more likely that people in that much pain get really good at hiding it … so they will “be left alone.” Of course, this “being alone” increases their isolation, pain, and despair.

Speaking from personal experience …

I have been affected by the suicide of someone I knew twice in my life. The second time was just a few weeks ago, so this has recently been cycling through my brain.

The first time was many years ago – in the mid-90s. Caleb was a high school student who joined my karate dojo, and he was a great kid. Several of his friends were already students of mine, and he seemed to really enjoy karate and clearly got along fine with his friends in the class. In addition, he was a personable young man, good-looking, a good student, and played in the high school marching band.

Then one day, his classmates came into the dojo and told me Caleb had just killed himself the previous day. They were in shock … and they had no idea …

I was shocked. Caleb had seemed fine, and maybe I could have done something … I am a karate sensei, for Pete’s sake! But the truth is, if you don’t know, there is nothing you can do. His parents stopped by the dojo to tell me they appreciated all I did for Caleb. It was incredibly kind of them under the circumstance, and all I could think was that … clearly … I did not do enough.

A fellow karate instructor located in Chicago took his own life more recently. I first heard that Patrick died when another instructor in Michigan posted the funeral arrangements in his dojo Facebook group. I had traveled to Chicago several times to attend karate seminars Patrick hosted. And while we were not close friends, I had talked to him on several occasions, sat in on one of his promotion tests, and had read a novel he’d written a few years ago. He always seemed friendly, he was an excellent karate instructor, and I think he was a teacher in one of the Chicago school systems, or at least was at one time.

When I read about the funeral arrangements, I contacted a mutual friend that following Saturday and asked him what had happened. Was Patrick sick? He was a good bit younger than me. Was it cancer? I was then told Patrick had taken his own life the previous Thursday.

I remember saying something like, “Oh no! Why? That is so sad.”

John’s reply was, “Yes, it is. I had no idea anything was wrong. And right now, I am more angry than sad. He should have talked to me.”

On a more personal note

I am about to share a personal story. And, it is not about me looking for anything. But, I just feel that if someone reads it, and it helps anyone, anytime, anywhere – or the reader takes away something positive from it, that is a good thing.

I grew up a stutterer. And, in my younger years, it was a much, much worse problem than it is for me now. During elementary and middle school, I pretty much hated myself. I mean, stuttering is kind of an invisible handicap, right? You look normal enough, all the way up until someone asks you your name – then the fun begins. The laughing, the questions … “Don’t you even know your own name?” Then there were all the fights! And if you need more proof you are not as good as everyone else … now you have to go to speech therapy!

This started to change for me as a junior in high school. That change was started by my best friend at the time, Chris Lemoine. Chris was a popular guy; he was fun to be around and well-liked by everyone; he had a Camaro and a great girlfriend! We became good friends as sophomores, and that friendship continued a little past graduation. Eventually, we went separate ways. Life sometimes does that.

We were headed somewhere in his Camaro one day, and he said something to me that blew me away. I don’t know what prompted the comment. Chris just turned to me and said something like, “Darren, I want you to know something. The fact that you stutter doesn’t matter one bit to me; you are one of the coolest guys I know. I am glad you are my friend.” That one statement began to work a change in me and has stuck with me my whole life.

Sometimes it just takes one statement …

Before this, one point in my life was very, very low. I must have been about fourteen or fifteen years old. Something had happened, but I really can’t remember what it was. Maybe my girlfriend broke up with me, I had a terrible stuttering situation that day in school, or perhaps I had an upcoming oral presentation. I hated those … and would break out into a cold sweat even at the thought of one. Or, maybe I just couldn’t borrow the car to go to the Rush concert. It doesn’t matter, really. It was probably a culmination of several things.

But my dad had noticed. I was up in my room with the door shut, hating life when he knocked and came in. He asked me what was wrong. I am sure it took a while to pry it out of me, but he did, and eventually, I said something along the lines of, “I hate my life, and I wish I had never been born. I just want it to end.” As an adult, I look back on that and understand that it was quite a hurtful thing to say to your dad. But I guess he understood. I do have an amazing dad.

I remember him saying something to me about how some people say suicide is the “coward’s way out,” but he did not believe that. He said it had to take a lot of guts and determination to actually go through with killing yourself. But then he said, “the real problem is that once you are dead, there are no more chances; no more opportunities to make things better, fix what was wrong, and make things right.” And that is another statement that has stuck with me my whole life.

So, if things are terrible for you, and you can see no way out, and you are thinking of ending it all, Please remember 1) that someone out there probably thinks you are pretty cool, and 2), once you take your life, there are no more chances to try again or make it right. And please, find someone to talk to!

On a lighter note, maybe growing up a stutterer is why I like to write so much. It just comes much easier to me!

Reflections

Celebrating A Life: Joe Palazzolo

The Cary Dog Park Gang!

I met Joe Palazzolo at the dog park in Cary, North Carolina. I would take my German Shepherd, Sophie, to the park every evening after work for exercise and had been doing this for a few months, I guess, when this guy visits for the first time with his Greyhound, Silver City Lou. We started talking and a good friendship was born.

The Character that was Joe Palazzolo

Joe’s family was from Sicily and he was proud of his Sicilian heritage. His wife was Kathy and her folks were from Sweden. Joe and I soon discovered we had a good bit in common. We were both familiar with the Mohawk and Hudson Valleys and the Adirondack Park of upstate New York State. We were both red-blooded, patriotic Americans, and we both liked to shoot. Eventually it came out that I enjoyed reading military history, and Joe told me he had a book for me to read. The book was Lucky Lady by Steve Jackson, and it is the story of a legendary World War II light cruiser, the USS Santa Fe.

During the war in the Pacific, Joe’s father served on the USS Santa Fe which earned the nickname Lucky Lady when the aircraft carrier, USS Franklin, was directly hit by two Japanese 500-pound bombs. As the Franklin listed heavily, becoming perilously close to capsizing, the light cruiser’s captain brought his ship in dangerously close, bellying up alongside the carrier’s flaming hull and keeping the ship afloat until the Franklin’s crew could be rescued. It is one of the most daring rescues in U.S. naval history.

Coincidently, Joe had a twin brother named Lou. One day during the Vietnam War, they both went down to enlist in the US Navy. Their mother put her foot down and said there was no way they were both enlisting and leaving her and their young sister to fend for themselves. Since Joe was doing a little better in school, the decision was made that Lou would enlist and Joe would stay home to look after the family.

Joe drove a bus in New York City for many years and eventually retired from his bus driver’s job. Often times he drove the early morning routes, and as you can imagine, he had some tales to regale listeners with. Both Jack Klugman and Tony Randall rode his bus regularly when they were in town filming episodes of The Odd Couple. Joe told me that Jack Klugman would hop on the bus and talk and joke with the other passengers. Tony Randall always tried to disguise himself and avoided talking to folks on the bus.

During his part-time limo driver gig, Joe had some adventures as well. One night, he was driving for some high school seniors on prom night. The kids left the prom and headed to Dangerfield’s Comedy Club. The limo drivers would park and wait in the alley alongside the club. One night, Rodney Dangerfield came out a back door of the club wearing a bathrobe and slippers. Spotting the limo drivers, he walked up to Joe and bummed a cigarette. He, Joe, and the other drivers had quite a conversation while Dangerfield smoked the cigarette. Then the comedian said good night, and headed back into the club. Rodney treated the drivers like anyone else. He was just one of the guys.

After his second heart attack, Joe was retired by the bus company. They told Joe they could not afford the risk of a third heart attack while he was behind the wheel of a bus. Undaunted, Joe took a job driving a hearse for a funeral company. He joked that the dead didn’t care if he had a heart attack or not. It didn’t matter to them.

Lou, Joe’s rescued Greyhound, is a great dog. Joe even had videos of races Silver City Lou had won during his career. If I remember correctly, Lou ran in fifty-five races. I believe Lou took something like twelve first places, and a bunch of seconds and thirds. By the time I met Joe, Lou had become a pretty laid-back dog who enjoyed relaxing. Occasionally he would get up and run around the dog park with the “pack.” Even at at his advanced age, he was poetry in motion when he ran. Lou and Sophie became pretty good friends and got along great the times I visited Joe and Kathy in their home.

The birth of Pallie

One day shortly after publishing my first book, I was telling to Joe about it. He said that he wasn’t much of a reader, but he’d love to read my book. So, I brought him a signed copy of Serpents Underfoot the next time we met at the park. Joe laughed because he’d already ordered a copy from Amazon. I think he gave one to his sister or something. Anyway, after Joe had read the book, he told me how much he loved the story, especially the characters. I laughed and said, that’s because you’re such a character yourself.

After some more joking around, Joe mentioned that he’d love to be a character in my next book, Montagnard, which I had just started working on. I thought, why not? So, a US Navy SEAL and good friend of my main character’s, named Pallie, was born. Joe was a perfect “model” for the part. Pallie is a tough-as-nails but fun-loving and big-hearted Sicilian-American Navy SEAL. His character is well-liked by many readers and will continue into the third book as well. Pallie, short for Palazzolo, has Joe’s personality, his sense of humor, his gruff exterior, and his kind heart. He is Joe if Joe had become a SEAL.

See you later, Joe!

Shortly after I moved back to Knoxville, Tennessee, I learned that Joe was sick and he was spending a good bit of time in the hospital. A few weeks ago, I went back to Cary to visit with Joe and some of our good friends. I am so glad I did. Just the other day, I learned that Joe lost his battle with cancer. I guess we all knew it was coming, but it is still hard. I will miss you, my friend. but I am happy you are no longer suffering. My prayers go out to Kathy, his wife, and his daughter, Lisa, who I met on my last trip, and the rest of Joe’s family.

If I know Joe, I am sure he is already spending time at a heavenly dog park with his previous Greyhound named Faster, and looking forward with great anticipation to Lou’s eventual arrival. And for my part, I look forward to talking to Joe again when Sophie and I get eventually there as well.

Reflections

A Shimmer of Hope

This evening I was walking back from taking out the trash when a group of 4 young boys (probably ages 10 to 14) came by riding their bicycles. They stopped, and one yelled at me, “Hey, mister.”

Here we go, I thought.

Then he just asked me, “Do you like bikes?”

I told him at one time I loved bikes and used to ride all over town on my Royce Union 10-speed with no hands … and I could ride a wheelie for forever! Then I laughed and told him, “But, that was long ago, though.”

Then another one of them asked, “How about skateboards?”

I laughed again and replied, “Do I look like I should be on a skateboard?” They all laughed at that. One said he was going to be the next Tony Hawk!

The one boy proceeded to tell me he did all kinds of tricks on his BMX bike and showed me how well he could ride a wheelie. It was pretty impressive, I must say.

We joked around for a few more minutes. Finally, one of the boys said that they needed to get going. So, I told them all to have a great evening. They waved and started off. Then one stopped and turned back to me.

“Are you a veteran?” he asked.

“I am,” I replied. I was wearing an R.E.D. T-shirt.

“Thank you for your service,” he stated. Then went on after his friends. I must admit I was surprised. He was maybe 13 …

But I smiled inside. There may still be hope!

Reflections

Tunes for Tuesday: Ghosts of Christmas Past

My favorite Christmas memories are from growing up in North Adams, Massachusetts. A blanket of snow would typically cover everything, the Christmas lights twinkled and glowed everywhere, and as you walked up and down Main Street, classic Christmas carols were being played in all the stores and piped out into the streets. It was breathtaking, especially at night.

Then came the magic of Christmas Eve. As a family, we would walk to St. John’s Episcopal Church (now All Saints) for the midnight mass. It was cold; the air was crisp. Clean white snow covered everything, and the streetlights cast their light on the snowflakes that were often still falling. For a young boy, it was beautiful and truly magical and so, so special.

Anyone who reads my Tunes for Tuesday posts knows I enjoy a wide variety of music. But the Christmas music of yesteryear will forever hold a special place in my memories and my heart. So, take a few quiet minutes and join me as I take a little stroll down Christmas music memory lane …

Timeless Christmas Music Classics

White Christmas, Bing Crosby (1947)

The Christmas Song, Nat King Cole (Live Performance)

Merry Christmas Baby, B.B. King

O Little Town Of Bethlehem, Nat King Cole

O Holy Night, Andy Williams

Then every once and a while, you stumble on something new that gives you renewed hope for the future.

Over A Thousand People Came Together To Break a Record And Bring This Moving Christmas Hymn To Life.

The Piano Guys, Peter Hollens, David Archuleta, and the Mormon Tabernacle Choir get together to sing “Angels We Have Heard On High.”

Wishing all of you a Very Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!

Reflections

More Van Halen – Live on TV!

I was a huge Van Halen fan in the 70s and early 80s. I even liked some of the stuff they did when Sammy Hagar joined them. But, I much preferred the David Lee Roth period. Their self-titled first album shook the entire music universe.

Since the passing of Eddie Van Halen earlier this month, the internet is full of tributes, covers, memories, and concert footage. I was sifting through some of that when I discovered this gem! Eddie Van Halen lived the American Dream, rags to riches, putting in the sweat and hard work to succeed at his dream.

Filmed for Jimmy Kimmel Live in 2015, nine early Van Halen songs clearly illustrate why Eddie Halen was perhaps the best. This video features David Lee Roth reunited with the band! Alex Van Halen is on the drums, and Wolfgang Van Halen, Eddie’s son, is on the base. And … this video ROCKS!

As one fan put it so eloquently …

Don’t cry because he’s gone,
Smile because he was here.
And we were fortunate enough to witness it

Jack Rajinder
Reflections

Sophie Conquers Point 19

Loyston Point (or Point 19)

Labor Day, Sophie and I decided to hike to Point 19 on Norris Lake. Norris Lake was formed in the 1930s when TVA constructed the Norris Dam on the Clinch River to control flooding and generate power. The dam is a straight gravity-type dam 1860 feet long and 265 feet high. It has a maximum generating capacity of 126 megawatts.

I have many great memories of Point 19. When I left the military. I fell in with a group of guys from Clinton, Tennessee, and we would fish off the point, swim, camp, sometimes have bonfires and drink a few beers.

Back then, when the lake level was down, we could drive around the shoreline to the point if you had 4-wheel drive. Sometimes, I would hike it on foot. Had to watch out for copperhead snakes, though. Or, you could park at a gate and walk in on an old, partially graveled road. This trip, Sophie and I opted for the latter.

It is about 1.5 miles to the point via the old road. When I was younger, I hiked it several times, carrying a cooler full of ice and beer. Not sure I would want to do that now. We met one couple who were on the way back out. The had given up before reaching the point.

Sophie stopped to sample some of the vegetation on the way in. I guess she is somewhat of a survivalist.

I was amazed at how high the water level was. I remember it varies a great deal depending on the amount of rainfall in a given period, but often it was a good twenty or thirty feet from this ledge to the water below. There used to be an old rope attached to that old tree that we would swing out on. Sometimes it was a long time before you hit the water.

The water level was up in the trees on the other side of the point.

The town of Loyston

Over to the left in this picture sits what was once the town of Loyston. The inhabitants had all evacuated when the dam was built. While I have never personally seen it, I have been told that during dry seasons, when the lake gets really low, you can sometimes see the tops of old grain silos sticking out of the water. It is usually pretty deep. Right off the ledge where we would jump, I have been told it averages about 400 feet. Rumor has it that back in the day, stolen cars, once they had been stripped of anything useful, were pushed off the ledge never to be recovered. Could be just a local legend, though, who knows?

Sophie didn’t care about any of this though. She was just having a blast rescuing the sticks I threw into the lake from the ledge!

While I didn’t get any pictures, I was amazed by the number of boats of all shapes and sizes that sailed on past us with Trump 2020 flags on them. Most of them waved as they went by.

I couldn’t help but think how good it felt to be home … back in East Tennessee!

If you enjoyed this little outdoor adventure post, please take a few minutes and check out some of my other blog posts by clicking here!

And, if you like reading a pretty darn good action-adventure story, check out my award-winning novel, Montagnard.

Reflections

The Wisdom of Grandfathers

Something that I think we are in danger of losing as our society turns more toward social media and texting for communication is talking to and gaining wisdom from those who came before us.

Erwin Klippel

My Grandfather Klippel was a pretty handy guy. He worked for Remington Arms in Ilion, NY, as a gun assembler, and if memory servers me correctly, he built the prototype for the Remington Model 1100 12-gauge semi-automatic shotgun.

As a young man, he’d gone out west to study to be an airplane engine mechanic, but unfortunately, had to give that up to come home and help on his family’s farm. But he could build a camp, drive a truck, pour concrete, raise chickens, or tell you where to dig your well. And he had an endless supply of witty, often whimsical comments and stories to tell.

He played semi-pro football, and I understand he was also quite a dancer and rode an old Indian motorcycle around, at least until he met my Grandmother. He also taught me how to split wood with an ax, which incidentally helped me to embarrass a lot of bigger and stronger guys when it came to ringing the bell with a big hammer at state fairs. Looking back, I am glad they didn’t get too upset by that!

But, most importantly, he had a lot of wisdom and was always willing to share.

Never a borrower be, but …

One of my favorite stories my mother shared with me about her father involves a rusty old saw.

When my mother was a little girl, she was helping my Grandfather repair one of the chicken coops in the back yard. He needed some sort of saw that he did not have. He hated to borrow things but had little choice, so he went to a neighbor and asked to borrow that particular kind of saw.

His neighbor was kind enough to loan him the use of the saw, but the saw was in terrible shape. It was dull, the blade was rusted and pitted, and the handle was loose. My Grandfather made the saw work, and when he was done, he took it into his workshop and began to work on the saw. With my mother watching, he cleaned and polished the blade, sharpened it, and repaired the loose handle.

My mother asked him why he was doing all that. She could not understand why he would spend the time fixing a saw he had borrowed. Clearly, she said, the saw’s owner wasn’t concerned about it.

My Grandfather turned to her and said, “Ardis, always return something in better shape than when you borrowed it. Doing that can only serve you well in life.”

That bit of wisdom had a big impact on my mother, and later, also on me.

We need more people today to think like that!

I hope you will check out some of my other posts by clicking here!

Reflections

Dancing Days

I guess this stay-at-home crap has me bored, and my brain starts wandering to other, more enjoyable times. I got to thinking about how much I enjoyed Ballroom dancing. I haven’t been dancing in almost four years now. Once this pandemic is brought to heel, I may have to get back into it.

And please, don’t feel obligated to read this post. I am just trying to find things to write about to fill my time.

Benefits of Ballroom Dancing

There are many benefits to ballroom dancing. You meet great people. It is fun and it is also pretty darn good exercise. I also found that it compliments martial arts training very well.

Tango with Rhonda Becker of Champion Ballroom

Competition and Showcases

For the show-off in you there are competitions you can enter and Showcases you can participate in. Somehow, I got roped into doing a little of both, and I must admit, it was kind of fun.

Cha Cha with Elise Denneny. I think we took Best Amature Couple at this competition.

I remember my first showcase! I was nervous as hell. Before the show, we tried running through our routine, a Tango to Welcome to Burlesque, and I could not get through it. I damn near chickened out. Somehow, during the performance, we nailed it!

And if that is too much, there are simple social dances and parties …

I always enjoyed holiday parties. There were St Patrick’s Day parties, Halloween parties, New Year’s Eve parties, Christmas parties … almost anytime there was an excuse!

One video clip …

You have to be careful about this. Most videos I have are to music that I don’t personally have the licensing rights to use. They were done under the auspices of the dance studio’s licensing.

However, there is one video I have that is done to some music called the Tarleton Waltz performed by Elise Denneny’s son, Jimmy, and a group of his musician friends. I believe it is safe to show it here.

Tarletons New Years Waltz with Instructor Rhonda Becker

So, if you enjoy music and need a little exercise, or just want to have a good time, once this pandemic nonsense is over, you might head down to your local ballroom dance studio and check it out. It could be just what you are looking for.

Feel free to check out some of my other posts by clicking here!

Reflections

A Thought for Easter Sunday

Thoughts in Solitude

“My Lord God, I have no idea where I am going, I do not see the road ahead of me. I cannot know for certain where it will end. Nor do I really know myself, and the fact that I think I am following your will does not mean that I am actually doing so. But I believe that the desire to please you does in fact please you. And I hope I have that desire in all that I am doing. I hope I will never do anything apart from that desire. And I know that if I do this you will lead my by the right road, though I may know nothing about it. I will not fear, for you are ever with me, and you will never leave me to face my perils alone.”

Thomas Merton

Thomas Merton, a Trappist Monk of the Abbey of Gethsemane, KY.  Merton was a prolific poet and writer on spiritual social themes. He lived from 1915 until 1968.

Just a little something to think about …

Suppose you were one of Christ’s twelve disciples, and having just seen him brutally flogged and crucified, you fled, frightened for your life, and hid from certain death. What would cause you to suddenly change … to step out and publicly proclaim his resurrection and preach his Gospel, knowing full well it would inevitably lead to your own gruesome death?

Would you do it for money, fame, or some other earthly reward? How much treasure would it take to get you to do that, knowing you’d never live to spend it?

Yet, these twelve disciples did precisely that, without payment, and knowing it would undoubtedly lead to their own deaths. What would make a man find the courage to do what they did? It must have been faith. An unshakeable faith created between the time of Christ’s crucifixion and their individual decisions to spread the good news. What could have happened in that short time?

I am not a Bible-thumper or any kind of an evangelist, and I have long felt dissatisfied with what organized religion has become. However, I was raised as a Christian, and over the years, I have developed my own firm personal belief in God.

I have asked myself these questions many times over the years, typically around Easter. And I can only come up with one answer.

It would take a miracle …

What about you?

I wish everyone a Happy and Blessed Easter. And, I know we will all get through these troubling times together.

Reflections

All Dogs Go To Heaven.

True and loyal friends don’t come around too often.

That’s what makes dogs so amazing. Dogs only want to please you. They will be a loyal companion to and protective of even the most loathsome and cruel owners, owners who are unworthy of such devotion and love. That is why it is so sad when the day comes that your most loyal companion needs you to do what is right by them.

A walk in the field …

Today, Sophie and I went for our usual walk in the field where we saw one of our friends with her two dogs, Charlie and Koa. Charlie is a fun-loving, ball chasing Golden Retriever, while Koa is, I believe, an older Yellow Lab mix.

A few weeks ago, I was talking to Charlie and Koa’s owner and her husband, who made the comment that he wasn’t sure how much longer Koa would be around. It seems Koa was having trouble standing, and moving around, and seemed to be “lost” sometimes.

Today, there were taking Koa for one last walk in the fields he loved to roam around in during his entire life. You could tell he was enjoying being there, but you could also tell he was ready for a rest. They had to help Koa back to the car when it was time to head to the vet’s office. It was time for this loyal and steadfast friend to be at peace.

Dog owners will understand …

Dogs live short lives. So if you own dogs, this will happen to you. I have had dogs, sometimes multiple, for my entire life. For me, dogs are simply members of my immediate family. They’ve provided enjoyment, laughter, comfort, and understanding when human friends simply walk away. So, when it is time to do the best thing for such a loyal companion, it is almost a debt of honor.

Roxie

I was reminded of the last time I had to go through this with Roxie. She was a rescued female Doberman and a beautiful dog. Roxie was a great friend during some really tough times for me. Unfortunately, she was struck by a debilitating disease when she was about five years old, known as Wobbler’s Syndrome. It is a degeneration of vertebra in the neck that typically affects young Great Danes and middle-aged Dobermans and causes a loss of coordination and balance through the legs and hips. As it progresses, it can cause a lot of pain, especially in the neck region

This disease has two paths it frequently takes. It can come on hard and fast, and there is nothing you can do except end your friend’s suffering. Or, it can come on, reach a point and level out for about two years, before coming on again and forcing you to make the tough decision.

For Roxie, the disease took the second path, and we had about two more pretty good years. She looked like she’d drank a few too many Margaritas when running, and toward the end, we needed a lot of low dose aspirin and neck massages, which she really enjoyed, but that dreaded day had to come.

For Roxie, we couldn’t go to the dog park because of the condition the disease had her in. So, we went out into the yard and sat in the sun. It was pleasant, not too hot, and she enjoyed that. I spent a lot of time massaging her neck. Then, when it was time, we went to the vet.

Roxie enjoying the pretty day.

I will never forget the very kind veterinarian. There were two shots. The first to relax Roxie and the second to put her to sleep. I got down on the floor with her as the vet administered the first shot. There was an instant change in Roxie. For a moment, it was like I had my old dog back. She rested her head on my arm as if to say, “thank you,” then the vet gave her the second shot, and she quietly went to sleep. It was an emotional experience. I felt heart-broken, and tears welled up in my eyes. But, I was also happy she was no longer in any pain.

I have Sophie now, and she is another fantastic dog. I never try to compare a current dog to past dogs I have had. They are like people, each unique in personality and the gifts they bring. I will have dogs as long as I can adequately care for them. The joy they bring to my life is worth the sad day that will always come. And that’s okay. Because, the God that I worship, lets all dogs into Heaven.

Sophie