A woman brought a  very limp duck into a veterinary  surgeon.  As she  laid her pet on the table, the vet pulled out his stethoscope and  listened to the bird’s chest.

After a  moment or two, the vet shook his head sadly and said, “I’m so sorry,  your Duck Cuddles has passed away.”

The distressed owner wailed, “Are you sure?”

“Yes, I  am sure. The duck is dead,” he replied.

“How can  you be so sure,” she protested.

“I mean,  you haven’t done any testing on him or anything. He might just be in a  coma or something.”

The vet rolled his eyes,  turned around and left the room, and returned a few moments later with a  black Labrador retriever. As the duck’s owner looked on in amazement,  the dog stood on his hind legs, put his front paws on the examination  table and sniffed the duck from top to  bottom.

He then looked at the vet  with sad eyes and shook his head. The vet patted the dog and took it  out, and returned a few moments later with a cat.

The cat jumped up on the  table and also sniffed delicately at the bird from head to foot. The cat  sat back on its haunches, shook its head, meowed softly and strolled out  of the room.

The vet looked at the woman  and said, “I’m sorry, but as I said, this is most definitely, 100%  certifiably, a dead duck.”

Then the vet turned to his  computer terminal, hit a few keys and produced a bill, which he handed  to the woman.

The duck’s owner, still in shock, took the bill.”$150!” she cried, “$150 just to  tell me my duck is dead?!!”

The vet  shrugged. “I’m sorry. If you’d taken my word for it, the bill would have  been $20, but with the Lab Report and the Cat Scan, it’s now  $150.00.”

And . . .

 

“THE BLOND AND THE COW”

A blond city girl named Amy marries a Colorado rancher.

One morning, on his way out to check on the cows, the rancher says to Amy:

‘The insemination man is coming over to impregnate one of our cows today, so I drove a nail into the 2 by 4 just above where the cow’s stall is in the barn. Please show him where the cow is when he gets here, OK?’

The rancher leaves for the fields. After awhile, the artificial insemination man arrives and knocks on the front door.

Amy takes him down to the barn. They walk along the row of cows and when Amy sees the nail, she tells him, ‘This is the one right here.’

The man, assuming he is dealing with an air head blond, asks, ‘Tell me lady, ’cause I’m dying to know; how would YOU know that this is the right cow to be bred?’

‘That’s simple,” she said. “By the nail that’s over its stall,’ she explains very confidently.

Laughing rudely at her, the man says, ‘And what, pray tell, is the nail for?

The blond turns to walk away and says sweetly over her shoulder,

‘I guess it’s to hang your pants on.’

( It’s nice to see a blond winning once in awhile.)

Now I warned you I had a very odd sense of humor–not my fault, but the fault of all my daffy friends who keep sending this stuff to me!

 

While Al was visiting his brother in upstate New York, I somehow held the fort down being ill the whole time. No it was not Al sickness, although I did miss him; it was some weird digestive problem which had exhausted from a heaviness in my gut and just general feeling of unwell, that I got nothing done but taking care of dogs as quickly as I could and just sleeping the rest of time.  I could not pass my bed without crawling into it.  Still not up to full energy. Last night Al and I had a very romantic date at a sleep clinic; I was reevaluated as I have been on a CPac for several years now, but this was Al’s first evaluation.  I have kept telling him he had a problem, but no–just as he did not have a problem when he hit his very hard head on a rock last fall only to have emergency brain surgery for a rather large, soupy clot and fresh bleeding in February. So I just made this appointment and dragged him in.  I am doing fine, still need the CPac but doing fine. My darling husband, on the other hand, has severe sleep apnea–he stopped breathing for almost a minute several times.  So we will both soon be making beautiful music with our CPacs.  I am writing about this as sleep apnea causes all sorts of different symptoms: depression, irritability (you go, Al), fatigue (that’s me) to name a few, and can lead to or exacerbate high blood pressure, heart disease, diabetics, and the list goes on. So if you have any inkling that you may have apnea, usually loud snoring is a sure sign, see your doctor and go through a sleep clinic.  That is Dr. M’s word for today.

 

It has been awhile since I have written about what is going on here at Rattlebridge.  Well, let’s start with our rescue horses.  Shotzi is biting and I mean biting hard. She got my nephew in his arm but good.  So I, the expert, went up yesterday after having been away for a couple of weeks on and off judging (saving this for the next post).  Mind you Shotzi and Buttercup just returned to the farm after having been off to boot camp for a month ensuring that they are fine tuned as my nephew and niece were going to start riding.  I was going to teach Annie to ride on Shotzi and probably Melissa also. Melissa is here to attend Ohio Wesleyan University; she lives in the dorm but is here quite a bit playing with puppies. Melissa has not ridden since the last time I put her on a horse when she was twelve.  After she fell off, she swore off horses forever but has been reconsidering.  So I began saddling Shotzi up and she promptly tried to eat me.  She is lucky that I didn’t eat her.  Every time I began to adjust the saddle, she flattened her ears,whipped her head around and tried to nail me.  I lunged her with no problem and unsaddled her after giving her such an evil eye that she behaved.  So now we have a problem.  We need a companion for Buttercup but we also need a safe horse for all concerned. Nothing is ever easy.  Now as to my dream horse,Stanley:  Stanley has been lulling us into a sense of trusting his overall demeanor, kind eye and acceptance of training.  Well, he has been lying in wait.  With his confidence being built by his training, he has begun to assert himself but good.  He has tried to run me over, our wonderful trainer over, and head butted her so badly she wound up in urgent care.  So since the rescue organization from where we got these two horses, no fault of theirs is full, we are in, as usual, another dilemma.  Perhaps my dream of riding again is not the great idea I thought it was. Oh, well, until next time.

please God let him learn to sweep floors!!

Whispers 

The man whispered, “God, speak to me” and a meadowlark  sang.

But, the man  did not hear.

So the man  yelled, “God, speak to me” and the thunder rolled across the sky.

But, the man did  not listen.

The man looked around and said, “God  let me see you.” And a star shined brightly.

But the man  did not see.

And, the man shouted, “God show me a miracle.” And, a life was born.

But, the man  did not notice.

So, the man cried out in despair,  “Touch me God, and let me know you are here.”

Whereupon, God reached  down and touched the man. But, the man brushed the
butterfly away and walked  on.

I  found this to be a great reminder that God is always around us in the little and simple things that we take for granted … even in our  electronic age. 

So I would like to add  one more: 

The man cried, “God, I  need your help!” And an e-mail arrived reaching out
with good news and  encouragement.

But, the man  deleted it and continued crying .

Don’t miss out on  a blessing because it isn’t packaged the way that you 
expect.

 

I may have included the following in my blog before, but it bears repeating:

Written By Regina Brett, 90 years old, of The Plain  Dealer, Cleveland, Ohio

To celebrate growing older, I once wrote the 45  lessons life taught me. It is the most-requested column I’ve ever  written.

My odometer rolled over to 90 in August, so here is the column  once more:

1. Life isn’t fair, but it’s still good.

2. When in  doubt, just take the next small step.

3. Life is too short to waste time hating anyone.

4. Your job won’t take care of you when you are  sick. Your friends and parents will. Stay in touch.

5. Pay off your  credit cards every month.

6. You don’t have to win every argument.   Agree to disagree.

7. Cry with someone. It’s more healing than crying  alone.

8. It’s OK to get angry with God. He can take it.

9. Save for retirement starting with your first pay check.

10. When it comes to  chocolate, resistance is futile.

11. Make peace with your past so it  won’t screw up the present.

12. It’s OK to let your children see you  cry.

13. Don’t compare your life to others. You have no idea what  their journey is all about.

14. If a relationship has to be a  secret, you shouldn’t be in it.

15. Everything can change in the blink  of an eye. But don’t worry; God never blinks.

16. Take a deep  breath. It calms the mind.

17. Get rid of anything that isn’t useful,  beautiful, or joyful.

18. Whatever doesn’t kill you really does make you stronger.

19. It’s never too late to have a happy childhood. But the  second one is up to you and no one else.

20. When it comes to going  after what you love in life, don’t take no for an answer.

21. Burn  the candles, use the nice sheets, wear the fancy lingerie.Don’t save it  for a special occasion. Today is special.

22. Over prepare, then go  with the flow.

23. Be eccentric now. Don’t wait for old age to wear  purple.

24. The most important sex organ is the brain.

25. No  one is in charge of your happiness but you.

26. Frame every so-called  disaster with these words ‘In five years, will this matter?’

27.  Always choose life.

28. Forgive everyone everything.

29. What  other people think of you is none of your business.

30. Time heals  almost everything. Give time time.

31. However good or bad a situation  is, it will change!

32. Don’t take yourself so seriously. No one else  does.

33. Believe in miracles.

34. God loves you because of who  God is, not because of anything you did or didn’t do.

35. Don’t  audit life. Show up and make the most of it now.

36. Growing old beats  the alternative — dying young.

37. Your children get only one childhood.

38. All that truly matters in the end is that you  loved.

39. Get outside every day. Miracles are waiting  everywhere.

40. If we all threw our problems in a pile and saw  everyone else’s, we’d grab ours back.

41. Envy is a waste of time.  You already have all you need.

42. The best is yet to come.

43.  No matter how you feel, get up, dress up and show up.

44.  Yield.

45. Life isn’t tied with a bow, but it’s still a  gift.”

Its estimated 93% won’t forward this. If you are one of the 7%  who will, forward this with the title ‘7%’.

I’m in the  7%.

Friends are the family that we choose for  ourselves.

My instructions were to  send this to people that I wanted God to bless and I picked you. Won’t  you please pass this to people you want to be  blessed.

 

My friend Marilee who always shares thoughtful stories and jokes in her emails to me sent me the link to the video mentioned at the end of my rambling thoughts.

Remember Bob Hope?

For those who remember and for those who might be too young to know what this man was about. Bob Hope was a great entertainer, an even better person, and a great American.

Seeing the U Tube video of Bob Hope brought about memories and my following ruminations. I am not preaching by any means–just sharing my own views and wishing I could do as much good for my fellow man, certainly on a much smaller scale, as Bob Hope  did in his long, giving life.

Watch to the end. If you don’t cry, you just aren’t old enough….and if you are too young to remember World War II and the Korean and Viet Nam wars, you will see how our troops from these past wars and our current wars defended our country at great cost and many of their lives just to make a difference in the world, defend those fighting for survival, and protect our country.  The real America is one of sacrifice, honor, protection of our way of life, and belief in what our country stood for and may again someday.  We have become a country for the most part of greed, selfishness, lack of service to our country and our fellow citizens, and loss of our faith in and obedience to God.  Maybe, really there is no maybe about it, I am old fashioned with a moral code drilled into me by my parents, my faith, and my education; I developed a conscience and a moral code which sometimes felt and feels like a burden as I did not always want to take the harder road and follow as obedience to a code, those in authority, and God is not always easy. I have fallen and certainly made mistakes by not always doing the right thing, but all my failures and shortcomings in following God’s Commandments and the Golden Rule were learning experiences; I always thank God for the lessons by which I hope to someday become the person I should be. I have learned not to judge others, because “there for the grace of God go I and I have not stood in the shoes of others.” I greatly admire those who have given their life to duty and making a difference.

Our future lies with our youth; I fervently hope our young men and women make our world a better place by following the Commandments and the Golden Rule.  I believe that the Commandments are not just our directive from God but a moral code we should all live by.  It is time to stop worshiping and emulating the celebrities who break every commandment with aplomb and start celebrating those who sacrifice themselves to make a difference. Our veterans certainly deserve to be honored more than Michael Vick, Michael Jackson, and others who lead by terribly wrong examples and are worshipped for talent and not their character and sacrifice to do the right thing. 

Bob Hope was a great American who contributed to our troops for his entire career. Please watch the entire video and show it to your children!!!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xBr9cm9EWJQ

Those of us who have worked with rescue, shelters, or humane societies have always believed if a person abuses animals that same person will abuse children or adults who cannot defend themselves.  In fact the Ohio Revised Code mandates that Humane Societies (not affiliated with the HSUS which does no real rescue work, has no shelters, and never bears the brunt of actual animal welfare) in our state take children or older adults from homes in which there is abuse or neglect.  This law is not enforced today, but humane societies must refer such cases to the appropriate social services.  There is a strong link between animal abuse and human abuse. 

and to remember…from Arthur Schopenhauer’s (1788-1860), The Basis of
Morality:

“Since compassion for animals is so intimately associated with goodness of character, it may be confidently asserted that whoever is cruel to animals cannot be a good man.”

Now please take a look at the following websites:

http://cynography.blogspot.com/

http://badrap-blog.blogspot.com/2009/05/op-eds-on-vick-news.html

 

I will not incriminate the friend who sent this to me, but I believe this diet was meant for me. Hell, I think I have been following this diet since age five and keep going back to it when I begin to get too shapely!!!  I wonder where I got the fat gene?

Breakfast

   1 grapefruit
   1 slice whole wheat toast
   1 cup skim milk

Lunch

   1 small portion lean, steamed chicken
   1 cup spinach
   1 cup herbal tea
   1 Hershey’s kiss  

Afternoon Tea

   1 The rest of the Hershey Kisses in the
       bag
   1 tub of Hagan Daz fudge ice cream

Dinner

   4 glasses of wine (red or white)
   2 loaves garlic bread
   1 family size supreme pizza
   3 Snickers Bars

Late Night Snack

   1 whole Sarah Lee cheesecake (eaten directly from the freezer)

Remember: Stressed spelled backward is desserts.

Handle every stressful situation like a dog.  Pee on it and walk.  (oh, if only it were that easy!)

It amazes me that my that my friend Marilee Snyder keeps sending me emails about facts or stories that seem to be a fit for this blog . I used a whole box of Kleenex reading this one:

Ain’t nothing like a dog!

They told me the big black Lab’s name was Reggie as I looked at him lying in his pen. the shelter was clean, no-kill, and the people really friendly. I’d only been in the area for six months, but everywhere I went in the
small college town, people were welcoming and open. Everyone waves when you pass them on the street.

But something was still missing as I attempted to settle in to my new life here, and I thought a dog couldn’t hurt.
Give me someone to talk to. And I had just seen Reggie’s advertisement on the local news. The shelter said they had received numerous calls right after, but they said the
people who had come down to see him just didn’t look like “Lab people,” whatever that meant. They must’ve thought I did.

But at first, I thought the shelter had misjudged me in giving me Reggie and his things, which consisted of a dog
pad, bag of toys almost all of which were brand new tennis balls, his dishes, and a sealed letter from his previous owner. See, Reggie and I didn’t really hit it off when we
got home. We struggled for two weeks (which is how long the shelter told me to give him to adjust to his new home). Maybe it was the fact that I was trying to adjust, too. Maybe we were too much alike.

For some reason, his stuff (except for the tennis balls – he wouldn’t go anywhere without two stuffed in his mouth)
got tossed in with all of my other unpacked boxes. I guess I didn’t really think he’d need all his old stuff, that I’d get him new things once he settled in. but it became pretty clear pretty soon that he wasn’t going to.

I tried the normal commands the shelter told me he knew, ones like “sit” and “stay” and “come” and “heel,” and he’d follow them – when he felt like it. He never really seemed
to listen when I called his name – sure, he’d look in my direction after the fourth of fifth time I said it, but then he’d just go back to doing whatever. When I’d ask again, you could almost see him sigh and then grudgingly obey.

This just wasn’t going to work. He chewed a couple shoes and some unpacked boxes. I was a little too stern with him and he resented it, I could tell. The friction got so bad that I couldn’t wait for the two weeks to be up, and when it was, I was in full-on search mode for my cell phone amid all of my unpacked stuff. I remembered leaving it on the stack of boxes for the guest room, but I also mumbled, rather cynically, that the “damn dog probably hid it on me.”

Finally I found it, but before I could punch up the shelter’s number, I also found his pad and other toys from the shelter.. I tossed the pad in Reggie’s direction and he snuffed it and wagged, some of the most enthusiasm I’d seen since bringing him home.. But then I called, “Hey, Reggie, you like that? Come here and I’ll give you a treat.” Instead, he sort of glanced in my direction – maybe “glared” is more accurate – and then gave a
discontented sigh and flopped down.. With his back to me.

Well, that’s not going to do it either, I thought. And I punched the shelter phone number. But I hung up when I saw
the sealed envelope. I had completely forgotten about that, too. “Okay, Reggie,” I said out loud, “let’s see if your previous owner has any advice.”……….
_______________________________________
“To Whoever Gets My Dog:

Well, I can’t say that I’m happy you’re reading this, a letter I told the shelter could only be opened by Reggie’s new owner. I’m not even happy writing it. If you’re reading this, it means I just got back from my last car ride with my Lab after dropping him off at the shelter. He knew something was different. I have packed up his pad and
toys before and set them by the back door before a trip, but this time… it’s like he knew something was wrong.

And something is wrong… which is why I have to go to try to make it right. So let me tell you about my Lab in the hopes that it will
help you bond with him and he with you. First, he loves tennis balls…. the more the merrier. Sometimes I think he’s part squirrel, the way he hordes them. He usually always has two in his mouth, and he tries to get a third in there. Hasn’t done it yet. Doesn’t matter where you throw them, he’ll bound after it, so be careful – really don’t do it by any roads. I made that mistake once, and it
almost cost him dearly.

Next, commands. Maybe the shelter staff already told you, but I’ll go over them again: Reggie knows the obvious ones – “sit,” “stay,” “come,” “heel.” He knows hand signals:
“back” to turn around and go back when you put your hand straight up; and “over” if you put your hand out right or left. “Shake” for shaking water off, and “paw” for a high-five.

He does “down” when he feels like lying down-I bet you could work on that with him some more. He knows “ball” and “food” and “bone” and “treat” like nobody’s business. I trained Reggie with small food treats. Nothing opens his ears like little pieces of hot dog.

Feeding schedule: twice a day, once about seven in the morning, and again at six in the evening. Regular store-bought stuff; the shelter has the brand.

He’s up on his shots. Call the clinic on 9th Street and update his info with yours; they’ll make sure to send you reminders for when he’s due. Be forewarned: Reggie hates
the vet. Good luck getting him in the car – I don’t know how he knows when it’s time to go to the vet, but he knows.

Finally, give him some time. I’ve never been married, so it’s only been Reggie and me for his whole life. He’s gone everywhere with me, so please include him on your daily
car rides if you can. He sits well in the backseat, and he doesn’t bark or complain. He just loves to be around people, and me most especially.

Which means that this transition is going to be hard, with him going to live with someone new.

And that’s why I need to share one more bit of info with you….His name’s not Reggie.

I don’t know what made me do it, but when I dropped him off at the shelter, I told them his name was Reggie. He’s a smart dog, he’ll get used to it and will respond to it, of that I have no doubt. but I just couldn’t bear to give them his real name. For me to do that, it seemed so final, that handing him over to the shelter was as good as me admitting that I’d never see him again. And if I end up
coming back, getting him, and tearing up this letter, it means everything’s fine. But if someone else is reading it, well… well it means that his new owner should know
his real name. It’ll help you bond with him. Who knows, maybe you’ll even notice a change in his demeanor if he’s been giving you problems.

His real name is Tank. Because that is what I drive. Again, if you’re reading this and you’re from the area, maybe my name has been on the news. I told the shelter that they couldn’t make “Reggie” available for adoption until they received word from my company commander. See, my parents are gone, I have no siblings, no one I could’ve
left Tank with… and it was my only real request of the Army upon my deployment to Iraq, that they make one phone call to the shelter… in the “event”… to tell them that
Tank could be put up for adoption. Luckily, my colonel is a dog guy, too, and he knew where my platoon was headed. He said he’d do it personally. And if you’re reading this,
then he made good on his word.

Well, this letter is getting to downright depressing, even though, frankly, I’m just writing it for my dog. I couldn’t imagine if I was writing it for a wife and kids and family. but still, Tank has been my family for the
last six years, almost as long as the Army has been my family.

And now I hope and pray that you make him part of your family and that he will adjust and come to love you the same way he loved me.

That unconditional love from a dog is what I took with me to Iraq as an inspiration to do something selfless, to protect innocent people from those who would do terrible
things… and to keep those terrible people from coming over here. If I had to give up Tank in order to do it, I am glad to have done so. He was my example of service and
of love. I hope I honored him by my service to my country and comrades.

All right, that’s enough. I deploy this evening and have to drop this letter off at the shelter. I don’t think I’ll say another good-bye to Tank, though.. I cried too much the first time. Maybe I’ll peek in on him and see if he finally got that third tennis ball in his mouth.

Good luck with Tank. Give him a good home, and give him an extra kiss goodnight – every night – from me.

Thank you, Paul Mallory
_____________________________________

I folded the letter and slipped it back in the envelope.

Sure I had heard of Paul Mallory, everyone in town knew him, even new people like me. Local kid, killed in Iraq a few months ago and posthumously earning the Silver Star when he gave his life to save three buddies. Flags had been at half-mast all summer.

I leaned forward in my chair and rested my elbows on my knees, staring at the dog.

“Hey, Tank,” I said quietly.

The dog’s head whipped up, his ears cocked and his eyes bright.

“C’mere boy.”

He was instantly on his feet, his nails clicking on the hardwood floor. He sat in front of me, his head tilted, searching for the name he hadn’t heard in months. “Tank,”
I whispered. His tail swished.

I kept whispering his name, over and over, and each time, his ears lowered, his eyes softened, and his posture relaxed as a wave of contentment just seemed to flood
him. I stroked his ears, rubbed his shoulders, buried my face into his scruff and hugged him.

“It’s me now, Tank, just you and me. Your old pal gave you to me.” Tank reached up and licked my cheek. “So whatdaya say we play some ball? His ears perked again. “Yeah?
Ball? You like that? Ball?” Tank tore from my hands and disappeared in the next room.

And when he came back, he had three tennis balls in his mouth.

And now I am crying again. Please pray for our soldiers and those they have left behind  human or canine or for that matter feline and equine. With Woodstock so much in the news right now, please remember our guys who died in the Vietnam war and let’s finally pay that war’s living vets the respect we denied them then and may be still denying them as so many of them have just dropped out of the life they once would have dreamt of living before they went to Nam.