My First Dog

Growing up I always wanted a dog. The desire was so strong I would drag every stray dog I could find home, to beg my parents to let me keep him, but it never worked out. My parents were good at finding the dog’s owner.

While I was still in the 8th grade we moved from a suburb in a large city to a small town. It was not something I enjoyed and only got worse when we moved out to the country. My parents thought it was heaven. I had another word for it, for there wasn't another kid around for miles.

Shortly afterwards my Dad showed up with a black ball of fur that was all paws. A puppy just for me, but not just any mutt like I had been bringing home, a real hunting dog. A Labrador. Suddenly my hell had turned to heaven in an instant, for not only did I have a hunting dog of my own, but I could go hunting right out our back door.

Then my Dad let the other boot drop as they say. Not only had he brought home a Lab puppy, but he also brought home a German Shepherd puppy. I went from a life of broken emptiness, to complete fullness. I had the best of both worlds, a hunting dog, and a guard dog.

Dad named the German Shepherd “Jack” for some unknown reason, and I named the Lab “Hoss” after my favorite character on Bonanza, for if his paws were any indication, he was going to be a big boy.

The summer flew by with the pups growing by leaps and bounds. When Fall finally arrived it was time to go hunting. Realistically it was too early to expect anything from the pups, but Dad was just as anxious to go with the dogs as I was. Then the disappointment and the surprise.

Hoss had no desire to hunt. He was just content to walk behind us and follow happily along. Jack on the other hand was a natural hunter. He worked the fields at just the right distance in front of us, and scared up many pheasants. I can’t say how well he retrieved because we actually never knocked a bird down, but that’s another story.

My day dreams of hunting with Hoss after school were shattered, but I consulted myself with Jack and how cool it was to have a guard dog and a hunting dog all in one.

That dream was also shattered a week later when we went to town with the dogs, and Jack was stolen out of the back of the pickup. The irony of a guard dog being stolen wasn't lost on me.

Christmas brought a boy without a driver’s license the best gift he could ask for, an old dirt bike. A dog just didn’t seem that great any more, especially since all he had shown he was good at was eating, and putting his face in your lap, wanting to be petted just after he got a drink of water. Don't get me wrong, he was still my best friend, but I had been given keys to the world. Hoss was just going to have to wait at home.

Hoss taught me otherwise when the weather cleared. I tried for a half hour to get Hoss to mind and stay home. For some reason my normally well behaved dog wouldn’t mind. I finally had to tie him to a tree, which lasted until I got to the end of the driveway. He had grown into his name, and broke his collar.

I gunned the bike to show him he couldn’t keep up, but he just kept coming. My timid, lazy dog was running faster than I thought possible, and with a heart unwilling to quit. Hoss followed me all summer long, and by fall was looking like Schwarzenegger in his prime.

One day as we were riding/running across a freshly disc field, Hoss just stopped, making a perfect statue. I watched him as I turned the bike around. Suddenly he jumped, and started to dig. By the time I reached him, he was done and playing with his prize, a burrowing rat, a gopher. I watched him for a couple of minutes while he played with it, then he gave it a good shake, killing it, and laid it at my feet with great pride in his eyes. This became almost a daily routine until he got the gopher population thinned down. What amazed me was there was never any evidence of a gopher digging in the area.

By Pheasant season he was a changed dog. I had a great hunting dog, whom had never been trained. One time we were out hunting, but all he would scare up were hens, which we're not allowed to shoot. He would get so excited waiting for me to shoot it, and each time I didn’t he would give me a disgusted look, saying he had done his job, why wasn’t I doing mine?

He sulked all the way home, and he still had a disgusted look on his face as I went into the house to make a sandwich. When I came out of the house with sandwich in hand, I found him sitting and waiting for me with a hen laying in front of him, as if to show me what I was suppose to shoot.

We got another surprise we found hard to believe at first, but there were just too many comments for different people to deny it. Hoss was a great guard dog. Even though he hardly ever got up from his corner when someone came over, and I don’t think I ever heard him bark, ever, he was quite different when we were gone. I guess he put on such a show with growling and barking, even long time friends he knew wouldn’t get out of their cars.

Hoss even melted Mom’s heart. For her pets were O.K., but there place was outside, not in her neat as a pin home. I’m not sure how it happened, but Hoss went from sleeping in the heated shop, to being in the house all of the time. She also made sure he had a full bowl of food, and plenty of table scraps. Surprisingly he never got fat.

I cried when I thought I had lost him when he ran out across the road in front of a small car doing 45 mph. I watched all four tires of the car come off the ground as it went over him. In a blink of an eye he was running to me with only a small patch of fur missing and both of us scared to death. He never ran out into the road again.

By the time I graduated and was going off to college, it was clear he wouldn’t be coming with me, for he was no longer my dog, but the family dog, and his place was at home.

Unfortunately time catches up with us all, even a dog able to take on a Volkswagen. He had slowed down considerably when he hit ten years old, but his eyes were as bright as ever, and we helped him out with different herbs and supplements to combat his arthritis. His hunting days were done, but his value wasn’t diminished to anyone. He had long earned a rest, and a comfortable retirement.

The joy and brightness in his eyes slowly left as the cancer got worse each week and when he couldn’t get up any more, Dad took him to be put to sleep. He was thirteen years old, and everyone cried for the loss of Hoss. I’ve had a couple of great dogs since then, but my first Best Friend has a place in my heart, and is still missed.

The Dislikable Health Bill

I often wonder what people are thinking when they do something. Yesterday I witnessed a person pull out onto the road, skipping the right lane completely to get into the left lane, effectively blocking another person who was trying to merge from the center media. Then after only a 100 yards, pulled back into the right lane to make a turn. Why did this person do this? Was it a tired truck driver who forgot for a moment they were driving a Honda?

I wonder about the people we elected to represent us. Last week a historic Bill was passed by a very narrow margin effectively splitting our country in two. In theory it is suppose to provide health care to everyone. In theory. A theory I don't think anyone is against.

We could debate until hell freezes over on the individual things in the Bill we like or don't like, but I think it missed the main point of why so many people, myself included, don't like this Bill. For something so historically important as this Bill, why was it rushed through? Why the late night session, and sessions on Sunday? It was like everyone had "CAR FEVER". Got to buy it now, for they only have one red car left, and they won't make any more. Yeah, right.

Our Media wasn't much different than a bunch of High School teens, going "He said, She said". You would have thought with around 500 pages in the Bill, you could find something else to report besides the Left and Right fighting like toddlers. I remember a time when Journalist were thought of in high regards, even noble. Reporting only the facts, leaving the theory and gossip to the tabloids. Now we have 90% opinions/egos and only 10% facts at best. It's like they don't think we can come up with an opinion of our own, and if we do, it won't be the right one.

Unfortunately as much as I would like to blame others, I am just as guilty of dropping the ball as they are. In this day of information, I could have looked up the Bill myself and gotten my own answers, but I didn't. I could argue I didn't have enough time, but only if I had been trying to find things out. Instead I buried my head in the sand, and relied on others (News Media and Politicians) to get me the information.

So now what do we do? Move to the Outback of Australia, bury our heads and hope people will leave us alone? As much as I would like to see Australia, I refuse to bury my head anymore. I will get myself informed, and do my best to get myself politely heard in a civilized fashion. I will NOT let others steal my joy by sucking me into their dramas, for I am truly a wealthy man. I have a wonderful family who I can fully depend on for anything, and God who loves me!

The question is, are you wealthy? Do you have someone whom you completely trust? God? If not, I suggest you forget about this Health Bill, for if you have no one, you will never have health/wealth. Remember none of us are perfect. The key is to except others completely for who they are, and to be honest, truly showing yourself, so they can completely except you.

Common Courtesy

I think it is safe to say common courtesy is no longer common. I have a neighbor next to my business who keeps on proving he doesn't know about being courteous to others. There is very limited parking for our businesses, 7 spaces for 6 businesses. They will take up just as many parking places as then can, even two at a time with one rig. When I bring it up, they usually move, and make room for others, but to be honest I just can't seem to understand why I should have to ask in the first place.

I guess I just had a strange up-bringing. My parents taught me to think of others before I think of myself. It's not that I don't want things for myself; I just don't want them at the expense of others. Today it seems everyone is all about the ME, and the hell with others. If you ever want an example of this just watch the way people drive.

I've got a negative attitude right now, and I don't like it. I have gotten to the point I don't like to be around people much anymore, just because there seem to be so many ME orientated people out there. I know in my heart and in my head, they are not the majority, just a very annoying minority. Most people are good kind people who are just doing the best they can, but those others I just want to walk up to them and smack them on the forehead, and tell them to wake up and smell the coffee. Get a clue in life, and show some respect towards others. Don't you remember the golden rule, "Treat others as you would want to be treated."

Sadly, at the very least it would show how rude I am to others, and at the worst I would end up in jail wondering if anyone got the license of the truck that just ran over me. Most people like my neighbor aren't trying to be rude to others, they just were never taught how to apply the golden rule to their lives.

So where does that leave people like me who get so upset, we want to do stupid things? It leaves us with the perfect example of the golden rule from the Bible, "Turn the other cheek."

First we have to decide whether we want to be part of the solution, or part of the problem? If we get upset, scream and yell, then we are part of the problem. Second, you have to decide if you're willing to be part of the solution. If you don't like something, then the obvious answer is to change it.

The best way to change something is to teach with love. You can't be mad at someone and love them at the same time, at least I don't know how to do it. I have to first let go of my anger, and turn the other cheek, showing them love. Only in this spirit can I then begin to learn what the other person values, and teach them what I think they did wrong. Beware though for what you think is rude, might be considered just the opposite to someone else from a different culture. The perfect situation is when both of you can learn to respect each other.

I guess what I am trying to remind myself is before I get upset, I should try and see if things can just be simply made into a win, win situation for both of us, without anyone feeling they have been treated rudely, or unfair. If you do decide to thump the person on the forehead, be sure to let me know how that goes. I am sure there is another great article there, but I am too chicken to see for myself. I'm afraid I might not like the lesson involved.

Bull Pucky

There seems to be a perceived misperception about Christians. It's nothing new really. What surprises me is how it is still around, and that even Christians feel their suppose to be this way. Once you become a Christian, your gift of simple language is to be done away with, and replaced with the ever disrespectful Mr. Nice Guy. Bull Pucky.

Above all things, I am a man first, period. It is even more so now I have given my heart to Jesus. God is a God of love, who cares for all, but there is this twisted belief, just because he cares for all, he is striving for political correctness. Bull, I don't think the Pharisees would agree with the thought of him trying to be politically correct. Being politically correct is not the same as being caring enough to be honest.

The world of ours is full of atrocities. Nothing new when you look at history. The biggest atrocity is thinking and giving these evil people and their deeds permission to keep doing their evil. This is exactly what our society is doing every time we try to negotiate with someone who has done evil. Did Jesus negotiate with the merchants in the temple? NO! He physically threw them out. What the merchants had done was wrong, end of debate.

The bull pucky in today's ideology is so thick you could spread it around with a bull dozer. The saddest part is it comes from a small minority group of people who have gotten very noisy these days only because we let them. They have used their best weapon against us, guilt. They have made us feel guilty for not acting like their version of a loving God, when we disagree with their actions, and try and stop them. This is complete Bull, for the Bible clearly tells what is right and what is wrong.

Guilt has no power over us, except the power we give it. Guilt especially doesn't come from God. God uses conviction. When we sin, and we all do, God convicts us without any doubt. Guilt comes from others, or ourselves, and there is always a sense of doubt, or question. God only needs to tell us once, and forgives us when we ask. Others will keep telling us of our guilt even after they say they have forgiven us. God's punishment is just and set. By others, guilt is the punishment and unending.

Now is the time to do our part to eliminate the B.S. in our life, and world. You cannot do this by eliminating a word or two, but by using them as they were intended, to reveal a truth with honesty. Being politically correct is a fad destined to die like all fads. Honesty has stood the test of time, and without it, everything is just Bull Pucky.

Valentine's Day

Once a year we celebrate a special day to remember the ones we love, Valentine's Day. A day I find to be very sad and the reason so many couples are having problems. Such emphasis is put on one day, but if you truly love someone, I don't understand how you can't express that love every day.

The day doesn't even seem to be a day of real love. It's all about the buying of gifts. Plastic things that are quickly forgotten, and left to collect dust. Chocolates, which are gone over night, and flowers that wilt within a few days. I don't see how any of these things are truly a symbol of true everlasting love.

I have been blessed the last couple of decades to have a true love. A love that has grown to completeness. I use to say my love grows more and more each and every day, but that is no longer true. Like a fully grown fruit tree, producing nothing but delicious, my love is now full grown and complete. Our love is fully rooted, and strong enough to handle any storm. Producing fruit without fail.

Like a fully grown fruit tree, I will keep loving my wife until the farmer in charge of me, (God) says I am done. When I was young, love was exciting, but insecure. I don't miss those days for I have found peace, security, and comfort in my maturity. None of this is possible without compete love.

Thank you to my Love and everyday Valentine.

In Complete Love,
E.J. Bear

Been A While

It has been a while since I have posted anything up here, and I plan to get back in the habit once a week of posting an article or a short story. I don't know if there is anyone who is happening on to this blog by chance, but if there is I would sure like to know. First, to know someone is seeing this, and two, what you think. Thanks.

Sincerely,

E.J. Bear

The Rescue

The rescue started out like a scene from one of the many action films. A Special Forces Team getting ready to free some long missed but not forgotten prisoners of war. The time came and everything went according to the plan with only a couple of minor injuries.

What happened next surprised everyone, including myself. You see I was one of the prisoners. I’ve been a prisoner for more years than I care to remember. How I was captured is no longer important, but I can tell you I was a large in charge kind of guy. Not only was I physically large, some might say fat, but never to my face. I was loud, and more then borderline obnoxious.

I used to think I was invincible, and I would never get caught, and even after I was, I boldly told myself and anyone who would listen, no prison could hold me. After all of the years stuck in the hole, I can honestly say my spirit was never broken, but it was tamed.

Shortly after I was captured, I got to witness with my fellow prisoners a new young officer being put in charge of the prison. Not being able to understand what was being said, I became bored, and began looking around for some way to escape. This is when I first noticed Ben. He had his head down with his eyes shut, and tears streaming down his face.

I slowly worked my way over to him, and whispered into his ear, “We’ll be O.K. to be strong, and soon we will be back with our families.”
He turned to me with a puzzled look and said, “All of my family is with God. I don’t want to see them until my work here is done. I don’t cry for them or myself. I cry for the new Commander. He is a prisoner here as we are with one exception, he has no hope of ever being rescued. We do.”

I thought the poor guy had lost his mind. He had been here to long, and suffered too many fevers.

The new Commander was quick to implement changes. All military prisoners were to be separated. We were stuffed in small cages just big enough for one, with another prisoner. I was put in with Ben. Everyone was interviewed at least once a day. Most people would call the interviews something else, but it no longer matters. The Commander was present at most of them, never showing emotion, or participating.
After a while I was starting to wonder how much more I could take, and was amazed by Ben. He would come back beat up, and smiling. I finally asked him why? Were they shooting him up with drugs?

“No. I got another chance to tell them about Jesus. When I get back here still alive, I rejoice, for I will get another chance to tell them about Jesus. I have also seen they have been listening. The blows are with less conviction, and the Commander hasn’t missed one interview in over a month.”
I never believed in that religious mumbo jumbo, but with no one else to talk with and never finding any chance to escape, we started to talk. I asked straight forward questions, like why did bad things happen, pointing out our current situation. He simply answered back with a question.

“If you were not here, do you think you would ever had given a thought about God?”

I thought about it for a few days, and had to admit I wouldn’t have thought about God. I than asked him why he was here? He answer was simple.

“Someone needed to be here to teach you about God, and I am just his humble servant.”
I watched his body get weaker with time like mine, but I could honestly see the joy in his eyes. Finally at the end of my rope, deeply depressed, wishing I could die, I asked him if he could tell me how I might find just an ounce of the joy he had. I still remember his words to me.

“The only thing you need to do is confess your sins to Jesus, and except him as your savior.”

I told him it was too simple for me to understand, which made him laugh.
He drew a picture in the dirt of a big valley with me on one side and God on the other. He told me the valley represented my sins which separated me from God who is sinless. To be separated from the Creator of all things is to be living in hell.
Looking around I couldn’t imagine hell being much worse than this, but Ben assured me that it was, for here was only temporary. Here we will either be rescued, which I was having serious doubts about, or we would die, but when we die we no longer have the chance to except Jesus as our savior.

He then drew a cross with it bridging the gap over the valley between God and Me. By confessing, and placing my sins with Jesus, God’s only son, completely sinless, who died out of love on the cross for us, a bridge is forged between God and myself. A bridge that could never be destroyed.

I studied the picture for the longest time, finding it hard to believe how simple it was, but it made perfect sense. I slept on it, and by the next morning I woke with a sense of urgency. I found I believed Ben, and the question, ‘What are you waiting for?’ kept going through my head.

I bowed my head and prayed to God for the first time in my life, and the more I confessed my sins to him, the lighter my heart began to feel. By the time I was done, I felt free for the first time in my life, and found more than the ounce of joy I was looking for.

I opened my eyes to see the sun was up, and Ben watching me, grinning from ear to ear.

“We are now Brothers with a bond stronger then blood, for our bond is through the blood of Christ.”

The days with Ben passed quickly with him teaching me everything he could remember from his study of the Bible. They were happy days. My daily interviews became joyful, not pleasant, but joyful, for I took every opportunity I could to talk about Jesus.

After a while a fever took Ben, but even though I missed his teaching and companionship, I was joyful, for I knew he had done God’s will, and saved me. I am thankful, and look forward to seeing him again.

The Commander sat in on all of my interviews, and after a while it ended up being just the two of us. He never spoke to me, just listened. The interviews became less frequent, and finally stopped. I never knew until today if he understood what I was saying.
After we were all freed and back at the base airport waiting for our plane home, I noted the Commander was one of the prisoners the Special Forces had captured. I was finally able to convince one of the guards to let me talk with the commander in private.

With the guard standing in one corner of the room, and the Commander across the table from me, I said, “I want to thank you for all you did for me. I can’t say I enjoyed it, but none the less I am grateful for the results.”

The Commander stayed quiet, but I could see the puzzle in his eyes.

“When I arrived, I was fat and overweight, not only physically, but mentally, and spiritually I was dead. Now I am lean and strong mentally. Maybe a little to lean physically, but spiritually I am alive! You humbled me, and that I am most thankful for.”

I extended my right hand to his still in handcuffs. To my surprise, he shook my hand and held onto it for the longest of time. I looked at him puzzled, and noticed a tear in his eye, and he spoke to me for the first time.
“If you can forgive me brother, I would like to ask one favor.”

With tears now in my eyes, I realized he had listened to all I had said, and we were now brothers in Christ.

“Of course.”

“Could I have a Bible?”

I looked to the guard, who simply shrugged, and said I would have to talk with the base Chaplin, to which I responded, now would be a good time.

The Chaplin was more than eager to provide a Bible for the Commander, and informed me how it was illegal for anyone to own a Bible in his country, and if anyone had found out about him being a Christian, he would have been killed on the spot.
I was able to give the Bible to the Commander just before he got on the transport, and told him it was now his turn to carry on the good work.

He smiled back at me for the first time, and said, “With great pride and joy.”

I am old enough now to see God didn’t have me captured, I was being rescued from myself, and now I can see the Commander hasn’t been captured, but freed to enjoy God.