Catch With A Puppy

I have always liked dogs.  My dad has always liked dogs.  So, at various holidays or when I wanted to just let my dad know I was thinking of him, I would get him something with a dog in it or on it - a calendar, a stuffed animal, a picture - anything that related to dogs.  On my way driving to Pennsylvania in May, I found out my dad was in the hospital with cancer and the prognosis wasn't looking good.  So, before going to see him, I stopped by the gift shop to get him something.  And there it was - a cute stuffed puppy with floppy ears.  When I went to the room, I was almost in shock in what I saw.  The man who was my rock growing up now lay there very frail, but as I approached his bedside, his eyes lit up.  Then I handed him the puppy and he smiled, squeezed it and put it right next to him in the bed. 

My dad and I were always close growing up.  You could say I was a daddy's girl.  We just had this way of relating and didn't necessarily have to say a word.  I remember when we lived in New York, he would run in Central Park and I always wanted to go with him.  He told me it was long and didn't want me to get tired, but I would go.  We would be gone for hours.  Sometimes talking about the future, and sometimes not saying a word.  No matter what, he always encouraged me to be myself. 

Back to the puppy.  My dad was getting more frail even in the 5 days I spent with him.  One day he surprisingly grabbed the stuffed puppy and threw it at me in the hospital room.  I threw it back.  We then had a catch with the stuffed puppy.  Yep, right there in the hospital room.  The nurses walked by and were smiling and joking with us.  It must have been a funny sight.  As it turned out, those were some of his last surges of energy in this lifetime and the last time I would see him. Once again, we connected.  He was hardly talking at this point and the vim and vigor that I remember as a little girl was gone.  But, as always, we related and connected to each other without saying much - just smiling and laughing!

I can imagine his mansion in heaven: there must be puppies all over the place!  What a time he must be having! And what another sweet memory I have of the man who was always saying to me growing up:  Ellen, just be yourself.  Just like he was himself.

Thou wilt shew me the path of life: in thy presence is fulness of joy; at thy right hand there are pleasures for evermore.  (Psalm 16:11)