Toe "Jam", Ted, On Golden Streets

Last week, I got to "borrow" this little girly who just had her first birthday. She belongs to our friends. She liked "playing" my piano better with her feet than with her hands. My husband said to call this picture "Toe Jam." Good one, babe! Sometimes you are really quick. I'm glad I "let you catch" me all those years ago.

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I am tempted to call today a "very bad, no good, horrible day." It had some bad moments. But thank God for friends who continue to let me cry on their shoulders. Thank God for friends who keep checking on me by phone, text and email. Thank God for friends who fix our dinner.

My husband started his new job today. My daughter was at work and my son went to a friend's house from school. So I had a few hours with only Ted for company. And he napped a lot. Someone asked me, in a comment or email, how Ted (the dog) is doing with Andrew not here.

Andrew posed Ted for this picture. He told me this is what Ted does when no one is at home.

Andrew posed Ted for this one, too. When we were in Gainesville at Shands Hospital, Andrew asked for pictures of Ted.

It will be 3 years in April that Ted has been with us. He was Andrew's birthday present when he turned 10. No one else in the family wanted a pekingese. No one but Andrew and me. My husband was out of the country and he did not want a small dog. Neither one of the other kids wanted a pekingese either because they "look funny with their smooshy faces."

When my husband agreed by phone that we could get the peke pup, Andrew and I agreed that we would take care of the puppy and no one else would have to do anything. He would be "our" dog.

My parents brought Ted from Georgia and Andrew and I walked his new puppy that day. In reality, Andrew and I walked while he held Ted in his hands. We had been thinking about names as soon as his dad gave the go ahead on getting the puppy. While puppy walking I said, "He looks like a little teddy bear." Immediately Andrew said, "That's his name. Teddy Bear." Teddy Bear became Ted. E. Bear. Then Teddy. Then Mr. Ted. Then Teddy Boo. Then Tuppy Wear which became Puppy Wear. But mostly, he's just "Ted."

When Andrew got tired of the "medical stuff" and the "medical people," he would look at me and say one word. "Ted." Only he always pronounced it like "TayId." Like the southern way of making 2 syllables out of a one syllable word.

So this is the thing. While Ted is Andrew's dog, Ted bonded with my husband the most. Even though Andrew LOVED Ted, it was disappointing to him that Ted didn't love him like he wanted him too. Still, even a picture of Ted made Andrew happy.

But now I see it is good. Because if I had to watch Ted looking around the house for Andrew and moping, it would just be really hard. And it's already hard enough. And that is only one reason I asked God to give Andrew a puppy in heaven. And I really hope He has.

Ted & Reese

Andrew loves Reese, too. He walked Reese several times a week. Reese is Ted's girlfriend. When Andrew needed a wheelchair, his dad would push Andrew and walk Reese. Andrew would "walk" Ted.

The wheelchair is in the garage.

Andrew is walking streets of gold.

He is WALKING! Not holding onto a wall and lifting his foot with his hip muscle.

HE IS WALKING. And I can't wait to walk with him again.

I can't help but wonder if Andrew is walking with Jesus, a puppy trailing at their feet.

"And he walks with me and he talks with me and he tells me I am his own. And the joy we share as we tarry there None other has ever known." (Charles A. Miles, 1913)

This one just makes me smile.

Thank you, again, for your kindness, encouragement and prayers. It means so much to me.

When Love Bites

When Love Bites

The first week that One Fine Man and I were home from the hospital after his skiing accident in CO, our little Pekingese pup, Teddy, would not leave my husband’s side. Ted knew something was not as it should be with his master and he appointed himself as bodyguard.

Ted lay next to my husband’s injured leg, getting up only if One Fine Man got up. At first, Ted cocked his head at the crutches but after a thorough sniffing, he accepted their presence. He watched with quizzical interest as I changed the dressing on his master’s wound. Ted relinquished his happy-go-lucky “let’s go for another walk” mindset because it seemed now he had a real job. He lost interest in walks, toys, and everyone else UNLESS they got too close to One Fine Man’s left leg. For hours at a time, Ted lay next to OFM.

Every visitor was treated with suspicion. When our pastor and his wife came by the first evening we were home, Ted was on guard. He sat on the floor between our guests and his master. When our pastor moved forward to pray for One Fine Man, Ted was on alert, jumping to all fours and barking. Ted was “no respecter of [visitors]” and this behavior was repeated with each friend who dropped by.

Although Ted is not usually allowed on our bed, I made an exception and let him stay at One Fine Man’s side. One evening, it was getting late and I walked to the bedroom to get Ted for his nightly trip to the mailbox. There he lay at One Fine Man’s leg. As I went to scoop him off the bed, he bit me! Never had Ted bitten me before. I was shocked. And bleeding! As I rinsed my finger under the faucet, I felt my anger and confusion growing toward Ted. Why would he feel the need to protect One Fine Man from ME? Miffed, I banished Ted from the bed forever. No exceptions!

A couple of days later Ted “wrote” an apology to me. It was on a post-it note attached to the top of his paw. His ghost writer, Guitar Girl, delivered Ted to me, giggling over what a genius he was to have taken paw to paper. I didn’t at first accept Ted’s apology. Oh, I continued to feed him chicken and hamburger and put down fresh water. I washed his bowls, gave him a bath and took him for walks to the mailbox and beyond. But my heart was not in it because I was hurt.

Soon, however, Ted’s puppy dog eyes and wagging tail proved irresistible and I was back to loving Ted.

Since that incident I have considered how often I react like Ted and my “love bites.” Sometimes I protect my heart from the very ones I love the most. I would die for them. But some days it seems like too much work to be kind when I am dog-tired. Some days my love is snappish and short and I wonder do they feel the bared teeth in my service to them? I wash, cook, drive, assist, clean, listen, take up the slack…In my service to those I love, where is my heart? Does my love bite? So I take pen to paper and offer an apology. “I’m sorry I bit you. Please forgive me. I love you.”