A New Twist on the Ten Commandments

I didn't know that Native Americans have their own Ten Commandments, and some research has shown a couple of variations on the list. But these 10 principles certainly are something that people of every race and religion -- or no religion at all -- can learn from. I particularly like number 10.

So few people these days are willing to take responsibility for their actions. How many times do we hear about people who have been seen committing a crime, and who may even have confessed to it, enter a plea of 'not guilty' in court? I was brought up to take responsibility for my actions and to face the consequences. I have never been arrested or charged with a crime, but I hope that if that day ever comes, I would 'fess up' to my misdeed.

Admitting responsibility for a misdeed isn't easy, but neither is denying it. This is a lesson that every child needs to learn. I have taught my daughter that actions have consequences, either good or bad, and that she has to face them. I will not bail here out. Unfortunately, it seems that too often, children today are taught the opposite lesson. Nothing is their fault. Mom and dad will fix everything. Parents are incensed if their little darlings are caught doing something wrong. And many adults have the same attitude.

Take, for example, the guy in San Francisco attempting to burglarize a business. He fell through the skylight and was seriously injured. What did he do in response? He sued the building owners. Or the man who was electrocuted and killed while attempting to steal copper from a building? His family sued the owners of the building. Or the person who drunkenly killed three people by slamming into their stopped SUV at 70 mph, then sued the victims' family for medical bills and 'medical anguish'. When the victims' families sued the driver for their medical bills and mental anguish, they found that he had sold his assets to his parents a few weeks after the accident. Or my personal favorite: A Texas teenager from a wealthy family got no jail time for killing four pedestrians while driving drunk got probation because a psychologist testified that the boy has 'affluenza' and therefore believes he is immune from punishment.


The bottom line of these Ten Commandments, as with the original version, is to treat others, including the Earth, with respect. Own up to your mistakes. Don't be greedy. Be honest. Help those less fortunate. It usually takes very little time and effort to do the right thing. I believe that people who do the right thing are happier than those who think only about themselves, and I know our world would be a much nicer place if more people lived by these precepts.

Happy Mother's Day in Heaven

Today is Mother's Day 2014. And this year it's a somewhat bittersweet day for me.

My mother died some 7-1/2 years ago at the age of 80. This year more than most, I have found myself missing her a lot. I didn't see her often once I set out on my own and moved first to the east coast and later to California. I hope my daughter will be more considerate of me than I was of my mother.

Now that she's gone, I catch myself thinking "I bet Mom would like that" whenever I see a statue of a rooster. She had a collection of ceramic roosters in her kitchen, and I often wonder whether she would like one of the beautifully painted and decorated wooden roosters common in the Southwest. I also am reminded of her whenever I reach for one of the green mixing bowls I brought home after she died. She, like so many women of her generation, was an excellent cook. I still remember her wonderful homemade cinnamon rolls, her delicious post roast and her fried chicken dinners, which remain the best I have ever had. I have a couple of her old cookbooks and enjoy thumbing through them from time to time. How things have changed!

My mother was a beautiful young woman, with piercing blue eyes. As I have grown older, my resemblance to her (and to my maternal grandmother), is apparent. I inherited her small stature and her beautiful blue eyes, which have garnered me countless complements over the years. I think I also learned my sense of service from her. She was an active member of the ladies 'circle' at her church for decades, which met regularly for scripture study, socializing and service to those in need.

In honor of my mother on this special day, I am wearing a silver cuff bracelet engraved with flowers. My father bought it for her in 1945 or 1946, and it is the one thing of my mother's that I really wanted after her death. I didn't know about this bracelet until after she died, as we were going through one of her jewelry boxes. She was a very unpretentious woman who didn't care much for expensive jewelry or clothing.

So happy Mother's Day in heaven, Mom, from your very grateful daughter.

Finding the Silver Lining

My big, beautiful house is empty now ... too empty.

One of my dogs died last October at 15 years old. About the same time, my other dog was diagnosed with an inoperable brain tumor. She had to be euthanized just two weeks ago due to uncontrollable seizures. A few days after that, my 20-year-old daughter moved out to get an apartment with her boyfriend.

I am a quiet, private person. I value my privacy, and I've never had a problem being alone. I have always kept busy, either with household chores, yard work or volunteering. But I no longer volunteer with either of the non-profit groups I had helped on a regular basis for two years or more. I still take care of the house and the yard, but doing chores really isn't a fulfilling way to spend my days. I seldom feel bored, but that is exactly how I have felt the past couple of weeks -- bored and lost.

I know this feeling of  emptiness is only temporary. My travels will break up the boredom, and I am getting used to coming home to an empty house. And already, I am looking at adoptable dogs on the Internet. It may not be time to adopt just yet, but I know the time will come.

I also know that sometimes it takes these periods of darkness to make us appreciate the good times. If the sun was always shining, we would be less likely to appreciate a sunny day. If it always rained,  we wouldn't appreciate the rain when it falls.

Periods of darkness can offer an opportunity to learn -- about oneself and about the things we truly value. This isn't to say that I enjoy feeling sad and lost. It does, however, challenge me to find the positive in the situation. For example, after my dog died, I missed her terribly. Then I remembered a folder of photos on my computer. I looked through the pictures, pulled out my favorites, and posted them on my Facebook page. I shared with my friends pictures of Tia enjoying her life:

leaping into the air for a ball my daughter was holding, running through the yard, rolling in the grass, sleeping in the sun, wearing a wig and sunglasses. These pictures reminded me that while I missed Tia terribly, I could look back on her life and see how happy she was. We gave her 5-1/2 years of love and happiness, after she spent seven years in a puppy mill. I am sad that she suffered for so long, but grateful that she knew love.

I hope the feelings of sadness and loss are gone for a long time. But when they inevitably return, I hope I remember that inside each dark cloud there is, indeed, a silver lining.

Thirty Steps to a Happier Life

This will be a brief post, to share a link to an article that appeared on Facebook recently. Titled  '30 Things to Start Doing for Yourself,' the article lists a variety of actions and steps we can, and should, take to make us happier and more in tune with our true selves. So here is the link to the article:
http://www.lifebuzz.com/start-doing/#!Fr46C

I got a lot of good ideas from this article. What do you think?

Waiting at the Bridge

My dog Tia, a 12-1/2 year old golden retriever who spent the first seven years of her life living on dirt in a California puppy mill, was diagnosed with an inoperable brain tumor last fall. The tumor caused her to have seizures, which were well controlled with medications until recently.

She had another seizure on April 25, as I was in the Denver airport awaiting my flight home. My daughter was at work, but her boyfriend was at our house with Tia. When the seizure didn't stop, they rushed Tia to the emergency veterinary hospital. I was out of touch until my flight landed an hour later, wondering what was going on with my dog.

Shortly after my flight took off, I noticed a beautiful orange-red sunset. The sun's rays beamed brightly through a low layer of clouds. I wasn't able to get to my camera to photograph the sunset, but as I watched the sun's brilliance burn even more brightly and then fade, I somehow knew that Tia would not survive the night.


As I watched the red sun blaze even more brightly and its brilliant rays penetrate the layers of clouds, I thought about Tia, as she burned brightly once she escaped the horrors of the puppy mill. Her life force multiplied as she learned to play with toys, to overcome her fear of water and paper, and to be part of a loving family. Then, as the setting sun's brightness began to fade, I thought of how Tia's life was fading as the tumor in her brain began to dim and ultimately destroy her life force.

Like the sun, her happy spirit and 'everybody is my friend' attitude burned brightly. Despite her miserable life as a producer of puppies to satisfy the greed of the puppy mill operator, she was remarkably well-adjusted. She quickly took to her new life. She loved attention, she loved her tennis balls and her soft toys, and she loved to roll in the grass, even when it was covered in frost. Following our morning walk each day, she would seek out a sunny spot on the floor in our house. She liked to snooze outside in the sun if I was working in the yard.

Every day since her adoption in August 2008, Tia enjoyed a life of love, walks, toys and companionship. She seemed frightened by the seizures, but she didn't fear the inevitable outcome of a brain tumor. She simply enjoyed living the life she had known for 5-1/2 years since her rescue. She was happy, she was home, she was loved. Following her tumor diagnosis, we did everything we could for her. We gave her medications to control the seizures, we switched her to a raw diet and supplemented her food with a variety of immune-boosting powders. Most of all, we loved her as we have always loved her, perhaps loving her even more.

The tumor caused changes in her; she paced and sometimes seemed anxious. Her back legs occasionally seemed to give out. One day, my daughter found her staring at the door to the laundry room. She became withdrawn, and some days, she didn't feel like going for her morning walk. On most days, however, she wanted to walk, trotting along happily, stopping to sniff the desert plants and setting the pace and duration of our walks.

And when her light went out, when the tumor finally defeated her body, we were with her, as we had been every day since this sweet little dog came into our lives. As we were with her to release her spirit from her failing body, she will be with us until we meet again and cross the Rainbow Bridge together.

What Really Matters

Time has a wonderful way of showing us what really matters.

When we are young, we tend to focus on the material things in life, on getting ahead, on buying our first house or a new car. In my case, and with others I know, age has brought an increased emphasis on giving back, on helping those in need, on sharing my blessings with others, and on simplifying my life a bit.

I don't intend to live in poverty or to become a hermit. I live in a nice house and I drive a good car. But amassing more material things is not of any importance to me. Recently, I took 20 books to the local 'friends of the library' group to sell. I delivered bags of clothing to a local animal rescue group's thrift store.When I visit a new country, I'm not interested in buying knick-knacks to sit on a shelf and collect dust. The best mementos of my visit are my photographs and memories, along with the occasional coffee cup, which I use for my morning cup of tea.

And as I get older, the finite nature of life begins to hit home more forcefully as well. We can lose those we love in the blink of an eye -- a car accident or disease can snatch people from us in an instant. I recently learned of the passing of a member of my extended family (the wife of my brother-in-law's brother) who was only in her 50s. I often hear about someone who died at an age younger than I now am. And my dog was diagnosed with an inoperable brain tumor last fall. Watching the tumor cause her to have seizures and some loss of coordination is difficult. But knowing that she is reaching the end of her life also has caused me to be more patient with her and to cherish our remaining time even more than I previously did. I also appreciate that as a dog, she doesn't know what lies ahead and she therefore has no fear of death.

Of course, I  also see the physical changes in myself -- the gray hair, the slower recovery from strenuous work or exercise, the age spots. These changes -- not sudden by any means -- have prompted me to take better care of myself and to get the periodic check-ups, vaccinations and tests recommended by medical professionals.

I can't stop the march of time; all I can do is to maximize whatever time I have left. I can focus on the people and things that matter most. I can pick my battles and the things that frustrate or upset me. I can focus on the big picture and let the little things go. I can spend more time doing the things I most enjoy, such as travel and photography.

After all is said and done, the little things won't matter anyway. What will matter is the difference I hope to make during my short time on earth, the people who were touched by my presence, the causes I may have helped and the lessons I taught.

Just maybe, if more people focus on the things that really matter, this world will become a happier and better place for all.

A Final Rescue

Unlike most days at Rainbow Bridge, this day dawned cold and grey, damp as a swamp and as dismal as could be imagined. All the recent arrivals were confused and concerned. They had no idea what to think for they had never experienced a day like this before. But the animals who had spent some time waiting for their beloved people knew exactly what was happening and began to gather at the pathway leading to the Bridge to watch. They knew this was something special.

It wasn't too long before an elderly animal came into view, head hung heavy and low with tail dragging along the ground. The other animals on the pathway...the ones who had been at Rainbow Bridge for a while...knew the story of this sad creature immediately. They had seen it happen far too many times.

Although it was obvious the animal's heart was leaden and he was totally overcome with emotional pain and hurt, there was no sign of injury or any illness. Unlike the pets waiting at the Bridge, this dog had not been restored to his prime. He was full of neither health nor vigor. He approached slowly and painfully, watching all the pets who were by now watching him. He knew he was out of place here. This was no resting place for him. He felt instinctively that the sooner he could cross over, the happier he would be. But alas, as he came closer to the Bridge, his way was barred by the appearance of an Angel who spoke softly to the old dog and apologized sorrowfully, telling him that he would not be able to pass. Only those animals who were with their special people could pass over the Rainbow Bridge. And he had no special beloved people...not here at the Bridge nor on Earth below.

With no place else to turn, the poor elderly dog looked toward the fields before the Bridge. There, in a separate area nearby, he spotted a group of other sad-eyed animals like himself...elderly and infirm. Unlike the pets waiting for their special people, these animals weren't playing, but simply lying on the green grass, forlornly and miserably staring out at the pathway leading to the Bridge. The recent arrival knew he had no choice but to join them. And so, he took his place among them, just watching the pathway and waiting.

One of the newest arrivals at the Bridge, who was waiting for his special people, could not understand what he had just witnessed and asked one of the pets who had been there for some time to explain it to him.

"That poor dog was a rescue, sent to the pound when his owner grew tired of him. The way you see him now, with greying fur and sad, cloudy eyes, was exactly the way he was when he was put into the kennels. He never, ever made it out and passed on only with the love and comfort that the kennel workers could give him as he left his miserable and unloved existence on Earth for good. Because he had no family or special person to give his love, he has nobody to escort him across the Bridge."

The first animal thought about this for a minute and then asked, "So what will happen now?"

As he was about to receive his answer, the clouds suddenly parted and the all-invasive gloom lifted. Coming toward the Bridge could be seen a single figure...a person who, on Earth, had seemed quite ordinary...a person who, just like the elderly dog, had just left Earth forever. This figure turned toward a group of the sad animals and extended outstretched palms. The sweetest sounds they had ever heard echoed gently above them and all were bathed in a pure and golden light. Instantly, each was young and healthy again, just as they had been in the prime of life.

From within the gathering of pets waiting for their special people, a group of animals emerged and moved toward the pathway. As they came close to the passing figure, each bowed low and each received a tender pat on the head or a scratch behind the ears. Their eyes grew even brighter as the figure softly murmured each name. Then, the newly-restored pets fell into line behind the figure and quietly followed this person to the Bridge, where they all crossed together.

The recent arrival who had been watching, was amazed. "What happened?"

"That was a rescuer," came the answer.

"That person spent a lifetime trying to help pets of all kinds. The ones you saw bowing in respect were those who found new homes because of such unselfish work. They will cross when their families arrive. Those you saw restored were ones who never found homes. When a rescuer arrives, they are permitted to perform one, final act of rescue. They are allowed to escort those poor pets that couldn't place on Earth across the Rainbow Bridge. You see, all animals are special to them...just as they are special to all animals."

"I think I like rescuers," said the recent arrival.

"So does God," was the reply.


I don't know who wrote this piece, but it brings me to tears every time I read it. I have been blessed to rescue a small number of dogs during my life -- nothing on the scale of so many people I know. And I truly hope that I will one day be reunited with all the animals whose lives I have been honored to share.