From Cage to Convertable

Honey Bear

We just added a new member to our family, Honey Bear. No, we didn't name her that, but I believe she knows her name, so we may be stuck with it. We've only had her a few hours and we've already fallen in love. She's a friendly, lovable golden retriever who gets along well with our other dogs and loves riding with the top down in our convertible.

Three-year-old Honey Bear was given up by her family when a new baby entered the home and they couldn't take care of her. As my daughter and I walked through the shelter, we spotted walls and walls of other dogs in tiny jail cells. These unwanted dogs weren't lucky enough to have a new home to go to. Some barked while others slept, but they all looked like they wanted out. When the employee let Honey Bear out of her cell, she went nuts. She darted laps around the outdoor area while wagging her feathered tail.

Honey Bear

I wish we could have taken the whole lot of them. It breaks my heart to see so many dogs that no one wants, but this is not the only prison for the homeless. In our search for Honey Bear, we visited the Memphis Humane Society. Many of those dogs are free to anyone who will have them due to an angel grant.

Millie

Three years ago we adopted Millie, a terrier mix, who has been so grateful to have a home. These rescue dogs are even sweeter than other dogs because somehow they know what their new owners have done for them. So why not? Go out to your nearest pound and bring home a friend. A furry friend is waiting for you.

near "DEATH" experience

I almost died at the age of seven. Sure, we all use the expression "almost died" or "could have died," but this was no joke. It all started when my sister took me to the grounds of Concordia Seminary where she helped me perfect my bike riding skills by having me circle the parking lot. Once I got good at it, she encouraged me to ride down the hill toward the street.

1960s Schwinn

This wouldn't have been a problem for most kids, you just put your feet on the pedals and coast your way down; however, I didn't have the concept of coasting. With full pedal pushing strength, I flew down that hill. I enjoyed the wind in my face and the thrill of the fast ride until I neared the bottom and spied a car headed straight at me.

In a panic, I pumped the break with no luck because at such a fast speed, one does not stop easily. Now here comes the weird part: right as I was set to plow head first into the car, someone grabbed the handlebars of my bike and moved me out of the way. No one was there.

So you're probably thinking I'm nuts, insane, crazy, or just plain coo coo, but I swear, someone pulled my bike out of the way of that car. No doubt about it. My bike moved to the left, and I crashed into a grassy hill, which gave me two bloody knees. That was no big deal since I rarely saw knee skin throughout my entire childhood anyway.

My sister told me how brilliant I was for turning the wheel of the bike. I didn't turn the wheel. I'm not sure who did. Maybe it was an angel, or a relative who was never more or not yet. No telling about that, but one thing's for sure: I was not meant to die at age seven.

Ear Infection

Can you hear me now?

I'm not sure what I did to deserve this. Maybe it has to do with me riding around with the top down on my convertible. A piece of debris must have flown inside the ear canal and voila. Or perhaps I got dirty water in my ear from swimming, except I haven't swum in months. Whatever I did, my left ear was infected big time and a sticky white substance that alien visitors would be most interested in dripped down the side of my neck. I was up all night with throbbing pain and couldn't hear a lick out of the left side. I probably couldn't hear a scratch, blink, or tail wag either. I mean, who listens to licks anyway?

Before the throbbing came itching and clogging. My doctor put me on a Z-pack; but it didn't work, so a needle hacked into a private part of my anatomy. My hip hurt almost as much as the ear. In fact, I was in so much pain that I went to the pharmacist in the medical building because I didn't think I could stand the wait of driving to Walgreens.

The pharmacist put the pack just out of my reach while typing in my information. He had the prescription, he had my address, he had the credit card, so why couldn't he let me have one little drop of relief? I asked him with a pleasant please, and he said, "No!"

After staring at the pack a little longer, I lost it. Tears of pain shout out of my eyes and I said something I regret. Mind you, people who have been up all night and in pain are about as much fun as a funeral. The nasty women behind the counter showed no sympathy. She and her bullies yelled at me and told me all about people in pain with broken arms and what not. Plus a lady threatened not to give me my meds at all. A little compassion to a hurting, cranky person could have worked miracles.

I finally ended up at the ENT just in time to prevent a trip to the emergency room. He dug crud out of my ear while I cut off circulation to a kindly nurse's fingers. I then received adult pain meds, antibiotic drops, and pills. $250 later, I was cured. I hope you never experience the pain of an ear infection . . . unless you're the pharmacist at St. Francis Hospital.

:o - Did I really write that?