Jasmine - One of God's Great Creations

Jasmine In 2003, police in Warwickshire, England , opened a garden shed and found a whimpering, cowering dog. It had been locked in the shed and abandoned. It was dirty and malnourished, and had clearly been abused.

In an act of kindness, the police took the dog, which was a Greyhound female, to the nearby Nuneaton Warwickshire Wildlife Sanctuary, run by a man named Geoff Grewcock and known as a willing haven for Animals abandoned, orphaned or otherwise in need.

Geoff and the other sanctuary staff went to work with two aims to restore the dog to full health, and to win her trust. It took several weeks, but eventually both goals were achieved.

They named her Jasmine, and they started to think about finding her an adoptive home.

But Jasmine had other ideas. No-one remembers now how it began, but she started welcoming all Animal arrivals at the sanctuary. It wouldn't matter if it was a puppy, a fox cub, a rabbit or, any other lost or hurting Animal, Jasmine would peer into the box or cage and, where possible, deliver a welcoming lick.

Geoff relates one of the early incidents. "We had two puppies that had been abandoned by a nearby railway line. One was a Lakeland Terrier cross and another was a Jack Russell Doberman cross. They were tiny when they arrived at the centre and Jasmine approached them and grabbed one by the scruff of the neck in her mouth and put him on the settee. Then she fetched the other one and sat down with them, cuddling them."

"But she is like that with all of our animals, even the rabbits. She takes all the stress out of them and it helps them to not only feel close to her but to settle into their new surroundings.

"She has done the same with the fox and badger cubs, she licks the rabbits and guinea pigs and even lets the birds perch on the bridge of her nose."

Jasmine, the timid, abused, deserted waif, became the animal sanctuary's resident surrogate mother, a role for which she might have been born. The list of orphaned and abandoned youngsters she has cared for comprises five fox cubs, four badger cubs, 15 chicks, eight guinea pigs, two stray puppies and 15 rabbits.

And one roe deer fawn. Tiny Bramble, 11 weeks old, was found semi-conscious in a field. Upon arrival at the sanctuary, Jasmine cuddled up to her to keep her warm, and then went into the full foster mum role. Jasmine the greyhound showers Bramble the Roe deer with affection and makes sure nothing is matted.

"They are inseparable," says Geoff "Bramble walks between her legs and they keep kissing each other. They walk together round the sanctuary.

It's a real treat to see them."

Jasmine will continue to care for Bramble until she is old enough to be returned to woodland life. When that happens, Jasmine will not be lonely. She will be too busy showering love and affection on the next Orphan or victim of abuse.

From left, Toby, a stray Lakeland dog; Bramble, orphaned Roe deer; Buster, a stray Jack Russell; a dumped rabbit; Sky, an injured barn owl; and Jasmine with a Mothers heart doing best what a caring Mother would do...

Such is the order of God's Creation.

Dog Saves Boy Lost in Wilderness

From Tranquilla II on The Back of Eddy Creek on Lake Barkley --- I am bed ridden for a couple of days per doctors orders due to a rather severe respiratory infection. I tried to do a little work this morning but it whipped me quickly so I wanted to post this before I returned to bed and the meds which make me feel pretty groggy. Good news is I feel better than yesterday and the mega-dose of antibiotics apparently is kicking in. Here is the story form AOL News this morning that I thought some of you might be interested in reading since we are all dog lovers. Love, pace and grace, Dr. D

(Sept. 8) - A stray pooch who got a helping hand from a Canadian family more than repaid the favor when he saved the family's 2-year-old son in the Yukon wilderness.

The British Columbia family, whose name was withheld at their request, took the yellow dog under their wing after encountering him on their trek through the bush. The scruffy-looking mongrel had porcupine quills sticking out of his snout, and the family tried to help him by pulling some out, The Globe and Mail newspaper reported.

Last Thursday, as the parents were setting up a trailer in the evening, their 2-year-old son, Kale, disappeared wearing only a T-shirt. News of a missing boy triggered a full-scale search involving rescue professionals and many local volunteers.

Rescue parties located Kale more than 24 hours after he vanished. With him was the stray dog, who had kept the little boy warm by cuddling with him during the damp, cool night and protected him in the bear-infested woods. "The night was cold and wet and the terrain in the area is rough ... Most adults wouldn't make it through the night before succumbing to hypothermia, let alone a 2-year-old child," Michael Pealow, a member of the Whitehorse District Search and Rescue Society team, wrote in a blog post, according to The Globe and Mail.

"A bear could have got him. Anything could have happened," Mike Bondarchuk, a volunteer who helped search for Kale, told the newspaper. "What we do know is the dog stuck with him, all night and all the next day."

The dog's owner heard the whole story and came forward. Kim Dolan instantly recognized the canine hero as her dog, Koda, who had been missing for about a week. She said she had adopted Koda several months earlier after the dog was abandoned in Ross River, British Columbia.

"He's a total mutt. A total kid dog … he just wants to be loved," Dolan told The Globe and Mail.

Although she said it was hard to do, Dolan decided to give Koda to Kale's family.

"He was meant to be there at that time," she said. "It was tough to give him away. I was in tears … but it was the right thing to do."

"Tank"

From Tranquilla 2 - The Back of Eddy Creek on Lake Barkley --- The following story according to snopes.com is not "true" and yet I quite suspect that many men and women who have deployed have faced similar situations and feelings. This is just a reminder of how much we do truly owe those who would defend our country at a time of war. My friend Lynn Beckman and Stephanie Farhie both sent the story to me on the same day. Lynn in her note to me says ...

"I imagine these circumstances really happened, some time, some where. If you have ever been so blessed to be on the receiving end of the unconditional love of an animal, have your tissues handy, because this is..... A really great dog story! ~Lynn Beckman" I agree.

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. he 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 cellphone 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, 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 whaddaya 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.

"I'm Cured" - Kind of Sorta ....

From Tranquilla II on the Back of Eddy Creek - Lake Barkley -- Have you ever met a fellow and just knew from the outset you would be good friends? Such was the case when I met my buddy Matt Figert. It has been a while since I had a hunting, running, drinking and shooting buddy and certainly a while since I had a friend with as weird a sense of humor as I have.

My old pal Doug, as many of you will recall, got killed in a car accident a few years ago. One of the toughest eulogies I have ever delivered was at his services attended by law enforcement officers from across Tennessee and a most humbling experience to hear Amazing Grace played on the bag pipes followed by the lonely words that "Doug Bailey has gone 10-7." Doug was like a brother to me. He actually got me out of my shell from the loss of my dear old friend Bert Ballard and had me enjoying shooting and hanging out again.

When Doug died I kind of went back into the shell I am known to occupy from time to time in my life. I kept on "chopping wood and hauling water" but with little joy.

Then along came John - er I mean Matt.

A retired CPO and now a resident expert on an offshore oil rig, Matt and his wife Janette became fast friends. Matt liked good food and a variety of books, wine, beer, hard liquor, dogs and guns. He enjoyed deer hunting and breakfast at Miss Peggy's! Who was I to question the Universe? What more could you ask for in a good buddy?

So, when Matt sent me this cartoon it resonated.

This week I had a sonogram of one of those male body parts we don't speak of and having gone to a urologist now for four years I have come to appreciate the humiliation of stirrups and probes that women have long gone through.

The sonogram was fine. The blood tests are fine. The exam went as usual - it sucked. However, I have once again come through another year cancer free.

Am I "cured"? Well that is still to be determined but then I just couldn't resist sharing this cartoon with you as it so aptly sums up my feelings.

Kay and I will be off to work in Florida next week, I will be home for a day and then head to Iowa and Arizona. However, I will stay in touch as best I can.

Enjoy my friends. Simper Fi, De Oppresso Liber, God Bless America and yes Nancy, BHO and Harry those "Tea Parties" are for real and we are serious!

Love peace and grace,

Dr. D

Finding Family at a Dog Park

From Tranquilla II on the Back of Eddy Creek - Lake Barkley --- All my life I have "created" my own families. Maybe I do that because as an only child I sought solace, companionship, "brothers, sisters, mothers, fathers" that meet your needs when those needs are not met in your life. So, it was ever since I came home in 1971 and tried to put stuff out of the back of my mind.

I had no relationship with my biological Dad to speak of even though we did try toward the end of his life to reconcile and for my Mother's sake we both tried hard. My Mom had always been overly protective, which led me to do all sorts of things to "prove to myself" that I could do them despite her protestations and although I dearly loved her she never really understood all that I did and why I did it, which is probably true of most Mothers.

My first "family" was composed of "Brothers" Bob, Bert, Bill, Weldon, Don, Jim, and Hank; "Sisters" Mary Anne, Sue, and Jacki; "Mom" was Brooksie and "Dad" was Colonel L.B.

And all those years we worked together in the travel show business we knew we were "family". "Mom" helped me through my heartbreaks; "Dad" gave me good advice and little money; and my "brothers" well they were just there to help me get into trouble and live life more to its fullest. My "sisters" - it was my job to protect them from many of my "brothers" and all those other scandalous people they would encounter in life.

Then one day "my family" began to die. Sue from breast cancer complications, Weldon from a massive heart attack and then my ole buddy and best pal of 30 plus years Bert from complications of bladder cancer.

Of course, I went off to new jobs and left the travel show business and slowly the "family" became more of a family in name.

However, my need for family never changed.

Then I found Tybee and a dog park.

Sitting on a bench one day I began to realize that a new family was forming not by intention this time but through grace. My Mom and Dad have passed - Jim and Ann Knipe are my surrogate parents and took on that role almost 20-years ago - I often say that if I could have chosen my parents it truly would have been Jim and Ann as my Mom and Dad - and then at the dog park I found "brothers" Paul, Mike, Chris, Vince, Glenn, and Tim and "sisters" Miss Vivian, Allison, Annie, Junie, Chrissie, Kim and Fio.

"Cousins" abound there as well --- coming and going now and then but there are some of us that are "regulars in this family" at least when we are around and others who are regulars because it is a place to come to "be at home."

Tim and I were talking one day. I think he understands that sometimes it is truly hard to "come home" but then we do what we must and life, well it goes on day by day, and until I get back to the dog park to sit and have a cocktail and philosophize I guess I am hung doing so right here.

There are those reading this that understand and get it. So, this video of the St. Patty's Day parade at Tybee Island set to music sums it up well.

At Tybee you live life and enjoy it just as we all should daily. Except there it is exaggerated some and even those of us who the world may deem "different" - well, at Tybee and at the Tybee Dog Park we are all accepted for who we are --- and the dogs? --- well they have known this concept for a very, very long time.

Until next time.

Love, peace and grace, Dr. D

D-O-G spelled backwards - G-O-D - The Amazing Skidboot

From Tranquilla II on the Back of Eddy Creek - Lake Barkley --- Well, for those of you that know me well you have figured out that I am a dog lover. When my friend Paul at Tybee and then Tracy out in Denver sent me the Skidboot You Tube video I confess I got so wrapped up in catching up with work I didn’t look at it. However, I believe that the Universe (you can read God here if you wish) niggles you to eventually read and see those things that others think/feel you might just need.

As has always been the case in my life, I get those missives when I need them the most. Yesterday, I spent most of the day in the recliner with Little Bit and Max at my side resting up from the annual cancer checkup. This event is always draining on me because I always feel like I am William Tell’s son and waiting to see if the arrow hits the apple or me.

I am sure that I am as mentally exhausted after these events as I am physically exhausted. So, I like to come home and kick back with old BW horror movies from the 50s and just be numb for a while. Maybe it is my way of reaching back to a simpler and more enjoyable time of my life. I just don’t know. But it brings me great comfort.

Coming down from the tests and examination require me to not do anything terribly mentally and physically demanding for about 24-hours. As I sat in the chair yesterday it was rainy and cold and dreary, which it often is in Kentucky this time of year. Today, it is bright and sunny. Stay around here long enough and you get any weather you can imagine. I was feeling lonely and depressed and my thoughts went to my beloved Stimpy.

Today, as I am going through my e-mail in box there it is. Paul and Tracy’s video on Skidboot. And like so many things – I don’t think there are coincidences – I opened it and it warmed my heart and made my day.

So, if you have not seen this video here it is. I suspect as a fellow dog lover it will warm you heart as well.

Have you ever wondered about God’s sense of humor – maybe, just maybe God was being dyslexic when he made d-o-g?

Thanks Paul and Tracy. Thanks for being there with such an uplifting and comforting reminder to take every day as it comes and to appreciate what we have in our lives.

(If you need to cut and paste here is the link:)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=P2BfzUIBy9A

Until next time my friends.

Love, peace and grace, Dr. D

For All My Fellow Dog Lovers

From Tranquilla II on the Back of Eddy Creek - Lake Barkley --- For those of you who love dogs. Many of my Tybee friends will recognize some of these photos.

http://www.ldarrylarmstrong.com/

Love, peace and grace, Dr. D

When a Beloved Dog Dies - By Our Friend Junie

From Tranquilla II on the Back of Eddy Creek - Lake Barkley --- You just know I have told people over my 58-years. You just know. Maybe it is intuition, a feeling, a sixth sense or something even more esoteric but whatever it is you just know.

You know within 30-seconds of meeting someone whether or not you will like them.

Such was the case with our dear friends (and new landlords) Vince and Junie at Tybee Island. For one thing they love dogs (and as you will see later in this article Junie captures that well in writing); second, the are kind and gentle people, which is demonstrated through their behavior towards people and animals; and third, they are connective souls - two people who have finally found each other on this trip through this world and you can see it in their behavior toward each other and hear it in their words when they speak.

So, it was no surprise to me that when Junie shared her latest writing with me (she also wrote and sang for me a little ditty she had composed about their dog Tobe) that it would capture the spirit of one of her dear friends feelings when his dog passed. Since it was published in the Tybee Island newspaper I believe it is safe to republish it here.

For some of us our dogs are the closest friends we ever have. For those of us that were only children they became a focus of our world, our constant companions, our confidants, our best pals. And even for us guys when girls came along it was always our "best buddies" that were there when our hearts were broken.

Here is Junie's tribute to her friend Jimbo's dog "Rebel."

When a Beloved Dog Dies

The e-mail from Jim Heflin read: “My beloved Rebel died Saturday morning at 2:30 a.m. from a heart attack. He and I played outside most of the day, and he was his normal self. The vet said that he had more than likely been sick for some time and that dogs, like humans, mask their pain so that those close to them will not worry. I am grateful that he did not suffer, but I miss him more than you will ever know. He was my constant companion for 11 years.”

Rebel came into Jim’s life by accident---or maybe not. Whatever the case, a large dog, with a large head and huge ears, showed up in Jim’s yard on Tybee 11 years ago and decided to stay. Rebel grew into a “Great Beast”, part German Shepherd and part Akita, who knew how to spell. If he heard the letters, c----a---t, the chase was on. He enjoyed illegal frolics on the north beach with Jim’s family, and when Jim moved to a house with a pool, Rebel enjoyed poolside activities as well as an occasional swim. The Heflin’s house will not be the same without his booming bark or presence. Jim will not be the same either---he has lost his best friend.

People who are lucky enough to have the unconditional, uncomplicated love of a dog know that dogs bring out the best in us. “May I always be the person my dog thinks I am” pretty well sums it up. We thrive emotionally because of their constant and non-critical affection. Actually the only real fault they have is that their lives are too short. We know from the beginning that our dogs will probably leave this world before we do, but we are willing to undergo the terrible grief because the time we have with them is worth it.

Dogs and their owners make up a large part of Tybee’s population, and are a daily sight on the island ---in trucks, convertibles, or cars (either in the driver’s lap or riding shotgun) ---in bicycle baskets, in wagons, walking their owners, hanging off porches, chasing cats, and howling at sirens. The sight of them always makes me smile. And, in a few months, when Jim has had some time, maybe he’ll find another best friend. Not a replacement, because Rebel can never be replaced, but another best friend. Because none of us can have too many friends. I think Rebel will be pleased if he does.

“You think dogs will not be in heaven. I tell you, they will be there long before any of us.” Robert Louis Stevenson

And yes, Junie and Kay it made me cry.

Love, peace and grace and until next time, Dr. D

And Yes, It Made Me Cry, Too

So many of you have been so kind to inquire about me and how I am coping with the loss of my best friend and constant companion of 14-years. Well, when I received the following and watched it my heart was at ease finally. A true story. Enjoy.

A remarkable phone call from a 12 yr- old boy to Houston radio station KSBJ FM 89.3. So profound, the station has it posted on their website. Click below to listen to it. It's short.

Logan, The Sky Angel Cowboy

http://youtube.com/watch?v=zCdZwitrNoY "

Depression

Many of you have been kind enough to drop me an e-mail to check on me, call or simply ask. Truthfully and candidly I am slowly coming back yet I am fighting a pretty severe round of depression brought on by the loss of my buddy Stimpy. However, like all things in my life this too shall pass.

And yes, Virginia I am doing an exhibit of my photography this month in Princeton at the art guild.

For those of you interested you can see much of it online at http://www.ldarrylarmstrong.com/index.html

Stimpy's Memorial Garden

Many of you have asked and here are the answers: 1) We had Stimpy cremated; 2) We have designed a "memorial garden" for the old man -- he always found the "sweetest and softest spot" in any of Kay's flower beds so it was just fitting to do the same for him; 3) the garden overlooks the lake and the new landscaping that has been completed. Thanks for asking and take a look at the video to see the memorial. Many thanks to Jim and Barb for the "memorial stone".

"Words can't express how much I appreciate all of you"

Our friend Susan Gaffney-Evans shared this poem with us that captures a lot of the feeling we all have when we lose a dear canine friend.


Lend A Pup

I will lend to you for a while, a pup, God said,
For you to love him while he lives and mourn for him when he's dead.
Maybe for twelve or fourteen years, or maybe two or three
But will you, 'til I call him back, take care of him for me.

He'll bring his charms to gladden you and (should his stay be brief)you'll always have his memories as solace for your grief.
I cannot promise he will stay, since all from earth return
But there are lessons taught below I want this pup to learn.

I've looked the whole world over in search of teachers true
And from the folk that crowd life's land I have chosen you.
Now will you give him all your love nor think the labor vain,
Nor hate me when I come to take my Pup back again.

I fancied that I heard them say "Dear Lord Thy Will be Done,"
For all the joys this Pup will bring, the risk of grief we'll run.
We'll shelter him with tenderness, we'll love him while we may
And for the happiness we've known forever grateful stay

But should you call him back much sooner than we've planned,
We'll brave the bitter grief that comes, and try to understand.
If, by our love, we've managed, your wishes to achieve
In memory of him we loved, to help us while we grieve.

When our faithful bundle departs this world of strife,
We'll have yet another Pup and love him all his life.

Author Unknown

"Just a Dog" - I'm Okay - Will Be Back in Touch Soon

For all of you that have written and called and inquired. Thanks.

JUST A DOG

From time to time, people tell me, "lighten up, it's just a dog,"
or, "that's a lot of money for just a dog."

They don't understand the distance traveled, the time spent, or the costs involved for "just a dog."

Some of my proudest moments have come about with "just a dog."

Many hours have passed and my only company was "just a dog,"
but I did not once feel slighted.

Some of my saddest moments have been brought about by "just a dog,"
and in those days of darkness, the gentle touch of "just a dog" gave me comfort and reason to overcome the day.

If you, too, think it's "just a dog," then you will probably understand phrases like "just a friend," "just a sunrise," or "just a promise."

"Just a dog" brings into my life the very essence of friendship, trust, and pure unbridled joy.

"Just a dog" brings out the compassion and patience that make me a better person. Because of "just a dog", I will rise early, take long walks and look longingly to the future. So for me and folks like me, it's not "just a dog" but an embodiment of all the hopes and dreams of the future, the fond memories of the past, and the pure joy of the moment.

"Just a dog" brings out what's good in me and diverts my thoughts away from myself and the worries of the day.

I hope that someday they can understand that it's not "just a dog”, but the thing that gives me humanity and keeps me from being "just a man or woman." So the next time you hear the phrase "just a dog." just smile -- because they "just don't understand."

"Just a Dog" by Richard Biby, Broken Arrow, Oklahoma

"Angels Without Wings"

"Angels Come in Many Shapes and Sizes"

Christmas, 1995: This year's Christmas story is a very personal one. Some of you may
want to stop right now and read no further. This would be especially true if you find that reading about a person's deepest feelings would embarrass you or make you feel uncomfortable in any way. This is a true recounting from my perspective of a very troubling experience I had this past year. I have deliberated a long while to try and decide whether to share it or not. I recognize, since I am trained in psychology and counseling, that part of this sharing is my own therapy. I also realize how vulnerable writing this story and sharing it makes me. Further, I fully recognize that I didn't follow the advice I would have given any client in a similar situation -- get professional help when you need it. Yet, I believe if this story helps just one of my friends to put their life into perspective, the sharing of it -- even as deeply personal and painful as it is -- will have been worth it. Therefore, this story begins on a down note yet it ends on a much more upbeat one. No names have been changed to protect anyone :-)


"Angels Come in Many Shapes and Forms," Marilyn King, dear friend and psychotherapist, San Francisco, CA, September, 1995

When January, 1995 rolled onto the scene, things in my life were already less than satisfactory. Although my business had taken off and I had been quite pleased with the income and work load, the project that meant the most to me -- a Department of Energy land use planning activity, known as "The Common Ground Process" -- had been placed in a 'black hole' by the senior management at Oak Ridge.

Now, you would expect that someone who had spent 21-years working in and around the
government would not have been so distressed over such asinine actions. Quite the opposite, however, was my reaction. For the first time in my own business I felt, not thought mind you at first that is, I felt as if my personal and professional self-esteem had been ripped from me. I felt as if the government and contracting associates who were making such decisions were personally and professionally attacking me and my credibility as a person and professional. Combine these feelings with the painful losses I had not mourned from the death of my beloved Donna Walls and the anxiety I had for my Dad, Bert and Diane's health and you have some sense of my angst.

It wasn't as if I didn't have work and billable hours -- the most important aspects of working for yourself is the scared billable 60-minutes. The work continued at a slower pace, the bills could be met, and we weren't going to starve. What I didn't have -- it seemed to me-- was a voice, or a way in which to influence, educate, inform, and elucidate the importance of not screwing up such an important undertaking as this land use work. What I experienced again in my life --- I had experienced it before at TVA --- was government and its management pointing the proverbial gun at the foot and beginning to pull back on the trigger. Yet, this time my foot was within striking range and I damn well didn't like it!

Days and weeks dragged by while decisions weren't made and in reality avoided. Commitments to interact and involve the public began to fall to the side when government and contract managers began to realize that the efforts being undertaken could really mean that the taxpayer, the public, the stakeholder -- was indeed being asked to speak up and speak out about a subject that could impact them for years to come. "My gawd," as my dear friend Bob Mundy used to say, we were actually providing a forum for government and its contractor to not just play the game of public participation but to actually participate by listening and responding not in a "spin-control" way but rather in a true problem-solving, conflict resolving mode.


Before I proceed, let me state that I recognize that such a mode of operation is foreign to any government agency. Further, I understand that it makes absolutely no difference what the Secretary of a department says, or for that matter a President -- "the will bee's" ("we will be here long after any President or Secretary is gone") actually run government. I used to think like a 'will bee' and I knew the 'seemingly powerful' position that such a government manager thinks he has.

However, I had been optimistic enough to believe that maybe, just maybe, government
really was changing it stripes. Now, in reality I should have known that when I was hired as a subcontractor -- the last of the food chain and lowest of the low in the contracting business -- to ostensibly 'manage and coordinate' this project from a community relations viewpoint that the management of such a process was not possible. I had recognized early on the issues, problems and frustration associated with such an untenable position. Eventually I got myself from the middle of that position and into one where I could provide counsel, consult and practice those skills, which I could excel at.

Perhaps, it was the culmination of all this angst, frustration, and bafflement that ultimately led to the feelings that were about to erupt in me. Whatever, they simmered only briefly and then erupted in a fury. Questions of self-worth, self-respect, and self-esteem began to haunt my sleep and waking hours. My consumption of alcohol increased, sleep either evaded me or encompassed me, irritability, and anxiety became daily and constant companions.

Perhaps, it wasn't until the day that I knew beyond any doubt that the bullets for the rifle had to be locked in the storage house outside did I realize how deep a depression I had. That realization came to me one day when I found myself sitting alone in the floor in the guest bedroom rifle in hand.

I felt and believed for this period of time that I was totally and completely alone, unloved, uncared for, and lost. Kay's presence, nor the cats, or those occasions where our dear friends Robby and Diane visited changed that feeling. I found it made no difference what I did. I threw myself into what work I could focus on, I wrote some of my feelings down but that got too painful.

Some of you will recall that at the first of January I had spent a few days in the hospital. I began to drift back to that time and think about how cared for I was but that didn't help stop the spiraling downward depression from relentlessly attacking me.

Being the type of person who has never asked for help I found it was no easier when I was in such pain. I called friends under the pretense of checking on them. One night when Kay was gone to a meeting I drank very heavily and called to talk to Jim, Bert, and Marilyn. Jim was out, Bert and I visited a brief while but superficially, and at Marilyn's I got a recorded message. Still I couldn't bring myself to tell anyone I needed their help. I couldn't admit the need to Kay -- for the fear that I would be seen as weak and immature. Kay had warned me that one of the most difficult things I would experience working alone would be the loss of companionship. Those words haunted me as I tried to decide what was best for me, for her and my friends.

I honestly can tell you that I thought seriously about suicide. This had not been the first time in my life -- the other times, as I reflected, all had similar traits to this occasion. I had had similar thoughts as a teenager when my Dad left home, after my divorce, and after the aborted relationship I had with the married woman while I was single. Each of those times, however, I had been able to talk with someone that I worked with or a friend that was nearby and available that could provide me an objective perspective. This time I felt I had no such outlets. I considered seeking private counseling -- something that I have always suggested to my own clients and friends. Yet my ego wouldn't allow me the courage to ask for help from a stranger.

Then, one weekend when Kay and I were walking in the woods on the ridge behind Oak
Ridge an 'angel' appeared in my life. Too say that this angel saved my life wouldn't be an understatement. Like many people who experience angels I really didn't know what to make of the situation. I was scheduled to go on a trip to Vegas on business and frankly I just didn't feel I had time for an angel or anything else. But it seems the Universe and God had other intentions.

We still have this angel in our family. We call him 'Stempy.' Although Kay realized only after naming him that 'Stempy' is the cat in the cartoon series, 'Ren and Stempy.' His official name is H.J.D. Stempson -- at least that is what I say to any one who wants the 'official' name. That stands for "Happy Jumping Dog Stempson." He has brought a totally new meaning of joy, love, compassion and feeling to my life. I have named him the Chief Financial Officer for The Armstrong Group -- one bark for "yes" buy it or do it; two barks for "no" let's take a walk! More importantly, he has provided me a focus and a depth of understanding about myself that didn't previously exist.

You see this dog, a combination -- at least in my eyes-- of perhaps, wolf, coyote, shepherd,and husky brought perspective back to my life. I had dogs as a child -- cats too. Yet, as an only child, I always hesitated getting too close to them for fear that they would leave me. I always felt that to provide unconditional love to them would somehow end up hurting me. This is not to say that I wasn't warm and affectionate toward them, as I am toward many of my friends, yet it is to say that I still withheld a small part of me. Stempy would bear no quarter in letting me withhold anything. His soulful brown eyes and smiley face captured my heart and wormed its way into my very soul.

Somehow he helps me open up and talk again --- if just to him --- about those things which trouble me. Things that have long haunted me from the 60s and 70s. Things that keep me awake at night. He helps me to show genuine and uninhibited affection, attention, and generosity. He helps me better understand what sharing of the spirit can mean in feeling okay with yourself.

I love this dog unconditionally. Perhaps, more than I ever loved any other dog in my life. He has become my best friend and constant companion. My friend Bert reminded me this year at deer camp that we shouldn't get too close to our dogs since too often something happens to them.

He's probably right. But for now in my life I want to be close to this dog. He listens to me and doesn't judge me. He shows me respect and kindness and he loves me back unconditionally.

Perhaps, the lesson that this funny little angel brought me was one that I have known all along but that needed reinforcement --- sometimes in life we must take risks and when we do sometimes we are generously rewarded --- we are at all times better for it because we are then and only then fully living life.

The feelings of depression began to subside when Stempy came into our home. My level
of emotion and depth of feeling about life however is deeper and more meaningful to me than ever.

Perhaps, I have finally begun the slow and arduous process of forgiving myself for not being the perfect son and husband. Perhaps, I have recognized through this dog that life is too short to not live it too its fullest; that laughing and crying and feeling the depths of my emotional world are okay. And maybe I am learning that at 45 years old there is much more to life than just trying to make money, stay up with the Joneses, and be something that I was never cut out to be.

It is these life lessons that Stempy has helped bring into perspective. You may say that it is all part of going through the middle age crisis. Maybe it is. Yet, somewhere within me I know that angels do come in all shapes and sizes and sometimes they are a funny little dog that makes you smile and laugh just thinking about him.

So, as we wrap up 1995 and plunge into 1996, we prayerfully hope that you and your
families will be richly blessed. May you have the happiest and most prosperous of New Years' ever.


END
December, 1995

In Memory of Stempy 1994 - June 14, 2008

Deplorable Actions of a NC Trooper (They Fired His Ass)

WHITEMARSH, MD --- On Fox and Friends this morning you would have seen one of the most deplorable acts of violence toward a trained K-9 drug dog you can imagine. This "Man's Best Friend" was kicked and beaten by an ass of a supposed state trooper. The talking head for NC's Department of Crime and Public Safety says this storm "trooper" was dismissed for this "unacceptable and deplorable behavior" yet I predict the "unions" will reinstate the trooper. The storm trooper contends that he was "correcting his dog's behavior."Fortunately, another trooper was on the scene and videotaped the incident. However, there was no explanation as to why the other trooper didn't stop the act from continuing. Just as I said about Michael Vick, this man needs to be thrown into a pit with some pit bulls and let him get a taste of his own cruelty. At the very least, he should never, ever be given a position of law enforcement authority again. I will keep you updated on this story if we ever hear about the outcome. However, knowing the media and politics and unions this ass of a man will return "rehabilitated" in some form or fashion. By the way, I know many law enforcement officers. I have worked with them and trained them in various skills. The vast majority of these men and women would feel as I do about this ass. For them, we give them our respect and credit for doing jobs that are underpaid and dangerous at times. For the few that are like this --- well, you know my opinion.

Until next time.
Dr. Darryl
L. Darryl Armstrong
www.armstrongandassociates.org

From Chilton, Wisc.

CHILTON, WISC. BEST WESTERN HOTEL --- Another week of work on the road. Life at Lake Barkley continues to be wet and muddy and this has delayed the final cleanup of our lake property. The boys are all doing well. Kay tells me that little Bit and Max went to the groomers yesterday and Stimpy had a day of good solid R and R. The old man is hanging in there. Although he seems to be getting thinner and thinner on me. He has enjoyed the spring and teaching Max to dig moles and shrews out of the ground. Max being the lover likes to play with his newly found friends and often carries them around with him like a toy. Kay and I both are having very busy springs yet life goes on and the business continues to grow and prosper. we are thankful. Stay in touch.

Until next time.
Dr. Darryl
L. Darryl Armstrong
www.armstrongandassociates.org

12 April 2008 Update on Stimpy and Life

FROM THE BACK OF A FLOODED EDDY CREEK --- I have been remiss. Due to extensive travel demands and work I have not been back here to keep everyone posted on Stimpy and life so I thought it best I do that today.

Since we last visited I have been in Iowa,California and Maryland. Next week we are off to work in Florida, the following week Wisconsin and then back to Maryland. So you can see this is a busy spring and is shaping up to be a great year for the firm.

However, it is also taxing and does require that our trustworthy and dear dog-sitter Kandace spend an inordinate amount of time with the boys.

Little Bit recently had some surgery to remove a couple of benign tumors from his feet. He was a trooper and is doing just fine. He is my recliner dog. Each evening he and I settle into the recliner after a long day of work to have a cocktail and watch the news or some other trash on television. He likes to snuggle.

Max is doing just fine. He is now about 75-pounds and is still as loving as ever to his best buddy Stimpy. Max gives him lots of love, attention and kisses. Max has always been a sweet dog but these days even more so.

Stimpy, I am pleased to say, is holding his own although he does seem to get thinner every day. He is eating well and pooping well as long as he gets his stool softeners. Today, he is sharing space with our housekeeper's two children - 3 and 5 years old and I am proud to say he is doing very well with them. Max and Little Bit also have been entertained by them.

Here is Stimpy with his frog just one of several of his toys. You will recall that Stimpy is very gentle with his toys and always tries to ensure they stay pristeen in appearance. Max and Little Bit on the other hand have been known to chew on them. Here he is protecting Mr. Frog.




I continue to appreciate all of you that have been checking on me and the Old Man. It means a lot to the both of us. This has been a difficult spring for me with Stimpy's situation and frankly I have been fighting off a terrible depression. A couple of my clients have become challenging and caused me to question whether I should continue with them, or not, and grief is finally catching up with me as it always does eventually. So, keep us both in your thoughts and prayers. We will appreciate it.

Until next time.
Dr. Darryl
L. Darryl Armstrong
www.armstrongandassociates.org

Buy a ...

SPRING DAY ON EDDY CREEK --- Today you would think that spring is about to spring here on the Lake, however, rain is headed our way again. From my friend Lynn in St. Louis all the reasons why I love dogs ... thanks Lynn.


If you want someone who will eat whatever you put in front of him,
and never say its not quite as good as his mother's........... buy a dog.


If you want someone always willing to go out, at any hour, for as long and wherever you want.... ... buy a dog.


If you want someone who will never touch the remote, doesn't care
about football, and can sit next to you as you watch romantic movies....... buy a dog.


If you want someone who is content to get on your bed just to warm your feet, and whom you can push off if he snores....... buy a dog.

If you want someone who never criticizes what you do, doesn't care
if you are pretty or ugly, fat or thin, young or old, who acts as if
every word you say is especially worthy of listening to, and loves
you unconditionally, perpetually........ buy a dog.

BUT, on the other hand, if you want someone who will never come
when you call, ignores you totally when you come home, leaves hair
all over the place, walks all over you, runs around all night, only
comes home to eat and sleep, and acts as if your entire existence
is solely to ensure his happiness......

Then buy a ............ c.a.t.

Until next time.
Dr. Darryl
L. Darryl Armstrong
www.armstrongandassociates.org

I will not apologize

FROM THE BACK OF EDDY CREEK ON LAKE BARKLEY --- I will not apologize. For those of you that know me, you know I am a patriot. I believe that is one of the things missing from many of our citizens today. I would lay down my life for my wife, my family, my dogs most likely and my country. I am a good ole southern boy and I am proud of it. I love my country, apple pie, the American Flag, my Momma, and my family and friends. I could be called a redneck and that would be okay because many members of my family are and were. Rednecks got their names from the sunburn that they often experienced around their necks from working in the fields.

Which leads me to share this next little ditty with you.

This is a video of the Cactus Cuties, they are very talented young ladies ranging in age from 8 to 13 and in this video are singing The Star Spangled Banner.

The performance was at the Texas Tech vs Texas basketball game January 20, 2008 in front of over 11,000 people.

The Cuties are Andi, Baylee, Blaire, Madeline and Tatum. The group is named for the Cactus Theater in Lubbock, Texas and are coached by Cami Caldwell.

I suspect this will bring on the goose bumps (and maybe tears) if you also are a patriot but that's okay.

This is the way our National Anthem should be sung!

Cactus Cuties

P.S. I can't watch a video like this without getting teary-eyed. I've always wondered what my daughter (Sirah Ilyana was going to be her name) would have had as a talent. I would have been proud of her talented or not. Certainly, her Daddy couldn't sing or play anything for sure. She would have been 21 years old this year.

Until next time.
Dr. Darryl
L. Darryl Armstrong
www.armstrongandassociates.org