Hi friends, I will be out of pocket for a few days. I'll probably be back Monday. Take care and see Ya'll later.

The Chukchi( Russian Eskimos from Siberia) believed the their dogs guarded the gates of Heaven, and the way that you treated a dog in this life determined your place in Heaven.

In an unrelated musher's legend, it is said that your dogs wait for you, asleep until you come across, then they pull your sled through and into Heaven.

If the legends are true, I should have a place of honor in Heaven. I have always been a dog person. My mother STILL complains about all the dogs that I drug home even as a child. I am in a pack of five. There is me, Trouble, Taz, Abbie and Lucky. There is nothing like a dog licking your tears away when you are down. There is nothing like the look on their face when you walk in the door. I am their hero. The consider me the world's best hunter. Who else comes in the house with bags of dog food, milk bones and doggie jerky? Trouble is my oldest dog. She is a Rottweiler that my son drug home 12 years ago. ( " I PROMISE that I will take care of her mom!".) Yeah right ! Trouble is getting older. She is the matriarch of the pack. She mostly just lays around and snarls. Her bones are getting tired as well but as long as she isn't in pain, she stays with us. Taz is next. He is 185 pounds of licking machine. He's a Rottie too and has NO idea that he is supposed to be mean. My son brought him home too. Taz has saved my life twice. He really has. When my husband shot himself, he came to the door and looked at me. Taz sensed something and jumped into my lap. I remember my husband shaking his head in anger and walking away. 15 seconds later, I heard the gun go off. The police said that they found another shotgun shell in his hand. He was going to shoot me and then himself but he couldn't shoot Taz. He loved Taz. Flash forward four years. I woke up early one morning at 2 AM. SOMETHING woke me up and then I heard the doorknob rattle. Taz heard it to and hit that door so hard that it rattled in it's frame. That deep bark scared them off. I looked outside and noticed that the porch light had been unscrewed. Whoever it was wasn't coming in for tea and conversation. I called the police, they took one look at Taz( who was trying to lick them to death) and said " well, there's one burgler running around with sh*t in his pants". Taz is my hero. Because of him I am alive. Abbie comes next. Abbie is a mutt and I don't know what kind. She is timid and she is sweet. She's the smallest of the pack. I call her NURSE ABBIE because when I feel bad, she won't leave me alone. She tries to take care of all of us. Then comes Lucky. My son ( again) "liberated" him from someones yard four years ago and brought him home. He is a Rottie as well. When he came here, he has NO fur from mange. He was starving to death and had three kinds of worms. He had been beaten and kicked. He was pitiful. I took him to the vet and the vet named him Lucky because he would have been dead in a week. He's the smartest dog that I have ever seen. If anyone is afraid of Rottweilers, come to my house. You would be welcomed with licks and massive wagging of tails. That's it. That's my pack. Myself, and four precious animals. My babies. My friends.

The Greatness of A Nation And It's Moral Progress Can be Judged On The Way it's Animals Are treated...... Mahatma Gandhi

I am angry. I am so angry that I could be dangerous. Only to our latest village idiot though. The local TV news last night had a very sad segment. It seems as though a young man ( he's 23, not THAT young) in our town got angry because he couldn't use his mothers car.
He decided to hurt her so he set her dog on fire. Can you imagine? He poured lighter fluid on this poor helpless animal and threw a match. This dog was probably happy to see this monster. He may have thought he was about to be petted. When I think about it, I get a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. Somehow, the fire was put out. I Don't know who smothered the fire. The dog lived. He is burned over 60% of his body. He is at the local Humane Shelter and they showed it. It was wagging it's tail at the cameraman. It looks like it has to be in agony but it is wagging it's tail. That is the differance between animals and humans. Animals continue to love even after they have been abused. The vet at the shelter thinks that he may live now. He said that the dog is going to the food and water bowl several times a day . Letters, phone calls and donations are pouring in from all over the country. Hundreds of people have offered to adopt him. If I already didn't have all these dogs I would offer to adopt him. I hope that he is taken by someone that can love the horrible memory out of him. I hope that when his skin heals that he is petted all day. I hope that he is given filet mignon for a treat. The "young man" that set him on fire hasn't been caught yet. He is on the run. He is a coward. He is a monster and a bully. I hope that someone catches him soon. I hope that person is an animal lover. I wish that it could be me. I am angry.I hope that you are too.

I was watching SAVING PRIVATE RYAN a couple of days ago. In the movie three brothers were killed in combat with another brother serving somewhere in France. A platoon was sent to find the last brother before he was killed in Action. Some of you may not know that this movie was based on true events. The Sullivan brothers were from Waterloo, Iowa. There were five of them. All five brothers decided to enlist in the war effort and they wanted to stick together. They wanted to serve together. Two of the brothers had served in the Navy for fours years already, so they all decided to join the Navy. On November 14, 1942 the Sullivan Brothers were assigned to the USS JUNEAU, a Navy cruiser. Along with other American ships, they fought in the battle for control of Guadalcanal. The JUNEAU crossed paths with a Japanese Sub, the I-26. The sub fired a torpedo that struck the JUNEAU on the port side blowing it in half killing most of the crew. Survivors said that 4 of the Sullivan brothers were killed in the initial explosion. The fifth brother George made it onto a raft where he survived for five days before dying. Approximately 115 of the JUNEAU's crew survived the explosion but the American task crew did not stay to check for survivors. Uncertainty about the number of Japanese ships and subs in the area hampered rescue attempts and they didn't begin for several days. Exposure, exhaustion and shark attacks
killed most of the survivors and only 10 men were pulled from the water eight days after thier ship went down. I have a mental picture of a farmers wife in Iowa. Maybe she was washing dishes. Maybe she was gathering eggs. Maybe she was praying when the long, black car pulled up. Did she start crying when she saw it? Did she yell for her husband to come in from the fields. No one should hear that news alone. Did she tear down those five gold stars hanging in the window?
I would imagine that she sobbed. "which one God, which one?"... All of them maam. All of them." How could you live with that news? How could anyone? I'm not sure that I am that strong. I'm almost certain that I'm not. The Five Sullivan Brothers were:
Albert- Missing in Action- November 14, 1942
Francis- Missing in Action- November 14, 1942
George- Missing in Action- November 14, 1942
Joseph- Missing in Action - November 14, 1942
Madison-Missing in Action- November 14, 1942
The Armed Forces now DISCOURAGE members of the same family that want to serve together.

Good morning all. I have joined an organization that can be found at www.IAVA.org. It's an website that tries to help Veterans from Iraq and Afganistan. This isn't a political post, it's a human post. This morning I read an article on there about a man named Jonathan Schulze. There is also a small video with his parents speaking. Jonathan was a young Marine that had returned from Iraq. He started having nightmares. He would wake up screaming and shaking. He went from rage to crying jags in a matter of seconds. One day he told his parents that he needed help. They took him to the VA hospital. He told the admitting clerk that he "was suicidal". She told him to come back the next day. The next day, he called the VA hospital and was told that he was number 26 on the list. They had no beds. Jonathan could not live with his torment any more and hung himself. I cried when I watched the video. It doesn't matter if you support the war or not. I hope that you would support the veterans. I have been to countries without a democracy. It isn't pleasant. These men and women are fighting and dying for our right to NOT support the war if we chose. Many of you know that my husband commited suicicide. He had other demons but he talked about being in Iraq. He talked about the "certainty " of leading his troops into battle. He had nightmares about eating dinner with young men only to see them blown to bits. Somehow he had pictures of piles of Kuwaiti civilians that Sadam had gassed or shot. PILES of women and children. There has to be some way to help thse men and women when they return. There HAS to be. My husband was in the first Gulf War. I think that war was bad enough, but somehow THIS one seems worse. I'm not sure if it's the media coverage, the protest about the war, or what. I'm not sure. Those men and women have a bond that we don't understand. We never will unless we served in War. I love soldiers. I admire soldiers. They are dying for me. They are dying for you. It's very easy to get involved. Please check out this website and see what you can do to help. We can't continue to lose our young people. We have to do what we can to stop this rash of suicides of returning heroes. One day, it may be someone that YOU love. It feels better to know that you tried to help. To know that people like Jonathan mattered. That they still do.