Golden Days

Every time I go grocery shopping, I always get the same thing.  Always.  And every night before I go to work for five hours, I put the Crock-pot on “warm” and I add (in this order):

-2 Whole Carrots

-1/2 Cup of Broccoli

-1/4 Cup of Green Peppers

-1/2 Cup of Spinach

-1 Garlic Clove

-1/4 Teaspoon of Ginger

-1/4 Teaspoon of Dry Mustard

-2 Tablespoons of Olive Oil

-8 Ounces of Tofu

-8 Ounces of Hamburg (Cook, drain, and add on top of vegetables)

And when I come home from work, I feed all that to my dog, Sam.

 

 

Although I must confess that the above photograph has angus instead of hamburg.  It was on sale.  And I couldn’t resist getting it for Sam. Could you?  Honestly…?

 

 

But, before you think I’m off my rocker, let me explain a few things about me and Sam.  Because we have a lot in common.  

-When Sam was 5 years old, his father died of a heroine overdose.

-My father left when I was 7 years old.

-When Sam was 6 years old, his mother died in an accident while drinking and driving.

-My mother drank at home.  (And she wasn’t very nice when she was drinking.)

-Because his parents were drug addicts and alcoholics, Sam was neglected; he used to eat rocks because he was hungry and he didn’t know any better.  And he has had surgery three times to remove rocks from his stomach.  The damage to his digestive system was extensive.  Fortunately, he’s eating very well now.

-Because my mother drank so much when I was growing up, I used to steal money from her purse after she had passed out so that I could have lunch at school the next day.  I did know better, but I hated starving.  And, by the way, I had surgery eight years ago to remove three lymph nodes from my abdomen because my doctor thought I had cancer.  Fortunately, my doctor was wrong.

-There are times I know Sam still misses the little girl who had him since he was a puppy.  She was 5 years old when she got him.  And she was 11 years old when her parents passed away.  (She and her brother are now living with relatives.)  So I try to cheer Sam up with a good petting.

-There were plenty of times that I would curl up on the couch–or the floor–with Sam and bawl my eyes out after my friend, Britany, killed herself.  He would always cheer me up with a good tail-wagging.  (I still do that sometimes, but not as often.)

-Sam loves going for a ride in the car.

-I love taking Sam for a ride in the car.

-Sam loves scratching his back on the rug.

-I don’t mind all that vacuuming.

-Sam loves taking a bath.

-But, man, I hate giving him one.

(Of course, my father never did drugs.  And although our relationship has had its ups and downs over the years, we get along pretty good these days.  In fact, he and his wife just came for a visit in February.  And my mother finally stopped drinking when I was 15, which was quite some time ago.  A little forgiveness goes a long way.  So we get along pretty good these days, too.)

Now, when I first got Sam, it took him a while to adjust to being a new home with a new master and, heck, even drinking new water because his stomach is so sensitive.  And, Yes, I tried feeding Sam dog food, but the kid just wouldn’t eat.  Or he’d eat some of it one day and none of it the next day.  Well, of course, I started to get really worried because he wasn’t eating.

Actually, I was more than worried.

I was in a panic.

Because Sam had been neglected, I wanted to be a good Dad.  Really, I did.  But just as adopting a hurt child is vastly different than raising your own child from birth, adopting a hurt dog is also quite a challenge.  And so it was with Sam.

Parents can tell their kids to eat.  They can threaten to take away dessert.  And, if it comes down to it, parents can punish their kids for being disobedient.

But you can’t tell a dog to eat if he doesn’t want to eat and expect him to listen to you.  You can’t send him to his room and expect him to learn his lesson.  And when he wants to be disobedient, you can’t use the magic words–”Because I said so”–and expect that to settle it.

But you can train him to accept being on a leash when he goes outside.  You can train him to stay away from rocks–so he doesn’t eat them–by yanking on that leash when his mouth gets near one.  And you can watch and pray the first time he gets all that food you spent so much time and money on because you want him to be healthy again.

And that’s exactly what I did.  I prayed he would eat.  And, man, did he eat!  And he’s been eating ever since.  That kid literally will not eat anything else.

I got the recipe from Dr. Nancy, a veterinarian who goes to my church; she is also the only one I’ll allow to see Sam.  And there is another woman at my church who teaches obedience classes.  If all goes well, Sam may soon be a therapy dog, who will visit hospital patients.  I figure since he’s had surgery three times himself, Sam ought to be able to relate to people who are going through recovery.  I’ll keep you posted on how he’s doing.

This summer, I will have had Sam for a whole year.

It’s hard to believe it’s only been a year.

Because I don’t know how I ever got along without him.

 

SAM’S RULES

9.  I live here.  You don’t.  So just remember you are my guest here.  Or else.

7.  If you don’t want my hair on your clothes, stay off the FURniture.  Or else.

4.  My Daddy likes me better than he does most people.  Tough to blame him since people can be so mean to each other.  I don’t get it.  I think they should stop.  Or else.

6.  You may think I’m just a dumb animal who can’t count, but to my Daddy I’m an adopted son who walks on all fours.  In fact, I’m the perfect son because I never borrow the keys to the car or ask for money.  So think before you ask.  Or else.

10.  Besides, if you think I’m stupid, why do you work all the time while I stay at home and sleep?  So you just remember who is stupider.  Or else.

5.  If you say “OUT” and I start doing my Famous Snoopy Dance, that means I have to poop.  You better remember that, too.  Or else.

1.  I can’t speak too good, but I sure know how to bark when someone’s at the door or there’s trouble.  So you just watch yourself.  Or else.

3.  If I come up to you while you’re watching TV and give you my Famous Puppy Look, that means I think you’re watching too much TV so you’d better pet me.  Or else.

2.  I always do what my Daddy tells me to do.  But I’ve got a short attention span.  That doesn’t mean I’m stupid.  It just means I think life is fun and I want to enjoy it.  You should, too. Or else.

8.  When dogs start picking up people poop, we’ll be the masters and humans will be the pets.  Until then, we’ll just snicker when you aren’t looking.  So enjoy it while you can, “Master!”  Or else.