A hot and humid day at Six Flags with eight 16 year old girls and one 50 year old Dad. The original plan was that Michelle and I would take them, together, back in July as part of Lizzy's 16th birthday celebration. However the weather didn't cooperate and the idea of spending a day at Great Adventure in a torrential downpour didn't appeal to us. When we rescheduled, Michelle found it impossible to take the day off, so here I am.
Because I love a good roller coaster, I decided to tag along most of the day. Despite my best efforts though, they refuse to be embarrassed by me. As we stand in lines, often 60 - 90 minute waits in the hot sun, they give me high fives, occassionally include me in conversation, and generally make me feel a part of the group. However, when the spinning rides come up, I elect to sit them out (for the benefit of those that would end up in front, or below me). Now I have a chance to do some real "Daddy Damage". I wave to my daughter as if she were a toddler on her first carousel ride. Obviously this will cause her to hang her head and turn red with embarrassment. As Liz, as well as her friends, wave back and shout out an occassional "I love you Daddy", I realize that I must have missed school the day Daddy Embarrassment 101 was taught.
It's now late in the day and I've decided that I've had enough of the rides. We set up a meeting location and I give them a couple of hours to roam. They go off for some more excitement while I head off for some relaxation and writing. While sipping a cup of coffee in the Cyber Cafe, I noticed some computers with internet connection so I decided to go on and post it on-site. As I write this I once again realize that I have been blessed with a great daughter who has surrounded herself with equally great friends,
Now the only thing left to do was to load the eight of them in the large rented passenger van, and head for home. Hmmm... I hope Michelle has a glass of wine waiting for me after all.
Say a prayer for somebody today.
Wednesday, August 19, 2009
Sunday, August 9, 2009
My Buddy, Our Pal
His name was Danny Phantom Burgess but nobody called him that. Everybody knew him as Danny. He was full of energy and never outgrew his puppy years. He could be exasperating at times, especially when there were other dogs around, but was so friendly the rest of the time that we tended to forget about the difficult times.
In 2004 we finally decided that we wanted to add a dog to our family. We went back and forth on what breed we wanted to go with. Michelle wanted a standard poodle but Lizzy was putting up a fight. It was important that the breed was “poodle-like” so that my allergies wouldn’t be an issue. Then Michelle heard about the Golden-Doodle, a Golden Retriever, and Standard Poodle mix. This seemed an acceptable compromise. Lizzy was comfortable with the choice and our research came up positive. The breed has the hair of the Poodle, good for me, and since the Poodle and Retriever are both considered intelligent dogs, the odds are that the mix would be intelligent. I questioned that fact for a number of years.
Danny quickly displayed a personality that was part mischief, part destructor and pure puppy. He chewed furniture, stole socks and tore around the house. When we went on walks he had this uncanny ability to jump straight up, from a four paws down position, to all four paws about three feet off the ground. Despite our best efforts to train him, we didn’t walk Danny, he allowed us to follow along behind him. The times that I questioned his intelligence came on these walks. He would be on the sniffing trail, and would walk right into a tree. Or he'd jump up, right into a mailbox.
As time went on, his true personality emerged. He loved playing; loved to be petted (particularly belly rubs) and he always wanted to be around us. Sometimes he would bring his toy to me and we would throw, retrieve and return – throw, retrieve and return, until Danny was done. Other times he would come up and either just put his head in our lap, or he’d let us pet him while he slid down to the floor until his belly was exposed and begging to be rubbed. It all meant the same thing – he wanted to be with us, to allow us the pleasure of being with him.
I found out what dog lovers across time have realized: They are the uncomplicated children, they love you unconditionally, comfort you when you are sad and romp with you in joy. At 5 ½ years old, I knew that I had a number of years left to enjoy my buddy. As you may have realized by now, sometimes I don’t have a clue.
Last week, Danny suddenly stopped eating. This wasn’t a big concern at first. Danny has always had one week a year, usually in the summer, where his appetite disappears. We mix up his diet a little; sometimes need to get him on an anti-biotic, and by the end of the week he is as good as new. After a couple of days though he still wasn’t eating and he was showing unusual lethargy. Friday we took him to the vet. After some tests they told us that they were concerned that his liver counts were extremely high and they had us go to CARES, a local animal hospital.
The people at CARES were wonderful, but things went downhill very quickly. To make a sad story less painful, his liver, kidney’s and pancreas quickly failed and we were forced to make the decision that all pet lovers fear. It was time to put Danny out of his pain and discomfort, and put him to sleep. This was painful. I don’t consider myself a crier, unless it’s family or something close to that. I broke down at the deaths of my parents and felt no shame in that. I feel the same way about Danny.
Maybe if Danny were 12 or 13, I could have accepted it. But at 5 ½, I wasn’t ready for this, and neither was the rest of the family. Non pet owners won’t understand, but he was Michelle’s and my other child; the easy one. He was Lizzy’s and Jimmy’s brother. He was a member of our family. When the question came up whether or not we wanted to bring Danny home with us, it was really no question at all. The only question was how does a newly reborn Christian speak at his pet’s burial? I’m going to finish this with a paraphrase of what I said:
“I’m not sure what is appropriate here, and to be honest, I don’t care. However, I believe that when the time comes for me to come home to God, Danny will be there waiting for me with his tail wagging.”
Danny: I do, and will continue to, miss you!
Danny quickly displayed a personality that was part mischief, part destructor and pure puppy. He chewed furniture, stole socks and tore around the house. When we went on walks he had this uncanny ability to jump straight up, from a four paws down position, to all four paws about three feet off the ground. Despite our best efforts to train him, we didn’t walk Danny, he allowed us to follow along behind him. The times that I questioned his intelligence came on these walks. He would be on the sniffing trail, and would walk right into a tree. Or he'd jump up, right into a mailbox.
As time went on, his true personality emerged. He loved playing; loved to be petted (particularly belly rubs) and he always wanted to be around us. Sometimes he would bring his toy to me and we would throw, retrieve and return – throw, retrieve and return, until Danny was done. Other times he would come up and either just put his head in our lap, or he’d let us pet him while he slid down to the floor until his belly was exposed and begging to be rubbed. It all meant the same thing – he wanted to be with us, to allow us the pleasure of being with him.
I found out what dog lovers across time have realized: They are the uncomplicated children, they love you unconditionally, comfort you when you are sad and romp with you in joy. At 5 ½ years old, I knew that I had a number of years left to enjoy my buddy. As you may have realized by now, sometimes I don’t have a clue.
Last week, Danny suddenly stopped eating. This wasn’t a big concern at first. Danny has always had one week a year, usually in the summer, where his appetite disappears. We mix up his diet a little; sometimes need to get him on an anti-biotic, and by the end of the week he is as good as new. After a couple of days though he still wasn’t eating and he was showing unusual lethargy. Friday we took him to the vet. After some tests they told us that they were concerned that his liver counts were extremely high and they had us go to CARES, a local animal hospital.
The people at CARES were wonderful, but things went downhill very quickly. To make a sad story less painful, his liver, kidney’s and pancreas quickly failed and we were forced to make the decision that all pet lovers fear. It was time to put Danny out of his pain and discomfort, and put him to sleep. This was painful. I don’t consider myself a crier, unless it’s family or something close to that. I broke down at the deaths of my parents and felt no shame in that. I feel the same way about Danny.
Maybe if Danny were 12 or 13, I could have accepted it. But at 5 ½, I wasn’t ready for this, and neither was the rest of the family. Non pet owners won’t understand, but he was Michelle’s and my other child; the easy one. He was Lizzy’s and Jimmy’s brother. He was a member of our family. When the question came up whether or not we wanted to bring Danny home with us, it was really no question at all. The only question was how does a newly reborn Christian speak at his pet’s burial? I’m going to finish this with a paraphrase of what I said:
“I’m not sure what is appropriate here, and to be honest, I don’t care. However, I believe that when the time comes for me to come home to God, Danny will be there waiting for me with his tail wagging.”
Danny: I do, and will continue to, miss you!
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