Pinkey




	WRITE 2 THE HEART Stories that are aimed "Write 2 the Heart" November 11, 2003 Cheryl Speir, Editor, moderator@write2theheart.com ----------------------------------------------------------- Welcome to your latest issue of "Write 2 the Heart" You are receiving this newsletter because you requested a subscription or a friend generously forwarded their copy to you. To subscribe send a blank e-mail to subscribe@write2theheart.com. ------------------------------------------------------------ When most people find old baseballs in their yard, they wonder where they came from. Bob and his family have been finding baseballs for over thirty years. When they find them, they smile at each other and remember when. ------------------------------------------------------------ Pinkey By Bob Shaw ------------------------------------------------------------ It seems like I was around nine when she came to live with us. Dad had wanted a blonde Cocker Spaniel for quite some time, and friends of theirs had a litter of puppies to sell. One of them was a blond Cocker. Twenty-five dollars was quite a sum to pay for a puppy in those days, and Mom was pretty firm with her no. It took him awhile, but Dad finally talked her in to it, with a trip to see the litter. One look was all it took. She was blonde with just a tint of red, and a nose full of freckles. In no time at all, she became "Pinkey." There was very little in her new home that she didn't consider “hers," including me, her only kid. It wasn't long before shoes, furniture, and anything else chewable became reasonably safe. One of her favorite tricks was shinning our shoes. She'd roll over on her back, and wiggle and squirm on top of our shoes till she thought they were shinned. The more we laughed, the harder she'd work at it. Living next to the fairgrounds held a fascination for her. She'd burrowed a hole under the fence, and usually used it for hunting and whatever other adventure she happened on to. One of the stands from the fair that set up just beside her hole was a "throw the baseball at the milk bottles" thing. One of the things she loved was playing fetch. She'd sneak under the tent, and grab the ball as it hit the ground, then head for her hole, long ears flapping in the breeze behind her. Before we knew it, the yard was full of baseballs. Dad worried that she might be caught and hurt, gathered up as many of the balls he could find, and took them back to the owner. He explained what was happening and wanted to make sure she wasn't hurt, and promised to return the balls. The man started laughing and told Dad that they had watched her steal the balls, and thought it was the cutest thing they'd ever seen, and assured him that they'd never hurt the little dog, but would appreciate the return of the balls. For the next several years, an old baseball would show up from some hidden spot, and bring back an old memory. I graduated from High School, and went to the Military. Coming home on leave, Pinkey was the last one I said good-bye to. She seemed to understand every word I ever said to her. Those big brown eyes held so much intelligence. Then I was off for the other side of the world, Viet Nam. My first letter home was met with a lot of barking and enthusiasm. She had caught my scent on the letter. When it had been read and left on the table, she sneaked up on the chair and snatched the letter. Mom found her curled up with it in her bed. "You little thief" she said. Then Pink looked at her with watery eyes, pointed at the letter with her nose, and just looked back at her. "Just broke my heart,” she said. From then on, Pinkey ended up with all the letters. She kept them on her bed with her. Several years later, Mom called to tell me that she had passed on. She was almost sixteen. She'd been put to rest in the back yard she loved so much, and I found a marble slab to carve her name into. Over Thirty-years later, I can still walk out to the back yard and see it just like it was then. A few years ago, dad had some work done under the house. The workman came out with what was left of an old baseball. We just smiled, and said "The little thief.” There's a place called The Rainbow Bridge, where a little blonde Cocker with a freckled nose is playing ball, and waiting. Bob Shaw CapeRabbit @ semo.Net You are encouraged to write to the authors to let them know what you think of their story, just remember to remove the space before and after the @ symbol. The space is placed in the address to protect our writers from viruses and email harvesting programs. Have a comment on today's story? Send it to: moderator@write2theheart.com ---------------------------------------------------------------- Bob and wife Ronni live in Cape Girardeau, Missouri. Their love for animals comes through in Bob’s writings. You can find more of Bob’s writings in Write 2 the Heart’s archives. -------------------------------------------------------------- -------------------------------------------------------------- Letters From Our Readers -------------------------------------------------------------- I’m so glad things turned out that Diane could receive the gold chain and locket. I know she will treasure it. Her children will too. Anne --------------------------------------------------------------- Military Prayer Reminder --------------------------------------------------------------- As you read over this list of names, please take that moment to pray for these young people and their families: Chris Speir Tim Speir Alan Thaddeaus Howard Todd Holland Graham William Julie Sagel Jessie Marshal Thompson Jason Eric Hernandez Kristin Danielson Ken Prieur Ryan Please continue to pray for our country, our leaders, and our troops at this time. If you have loved ones in the military, or who are being called to go overseas, send their names (first and last or first only) to be included in our prayer reminder. --------------------------------------------------------------- Cheryl's Corner I know, I am very late today. Jeremy has to have a stress test done tomorrow and I have been on the phone ALL DAY with insurance companies. For some strange reason, he was dropped from our health policy. After hours of feeling like a ping pong ball being bounced from one department to another (each department wanted to tell me how it was my fault) I was finally bounced as high as I could go. This kind gentleman took the time to look in the computer, trace what happened, and acknowledge that it was the insurance companies goof. When he fixed it, that should have been the end of it. Right? Nope. The hospital refused to allow the procedure unless they received a fax from the insurance company. This meant I had to start all over with the insurance company. Do you know how many buttons you have to push on a phone to talk to a human at an insurance company? It’s enough to give your finger push-button-itis! God Bless, Cheryl ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------------------------------------------------------------- © 2003 Write 2 the Heart Nothing may be reproduced or published without the written permission of the individual author or copyright owner. All rights belong to the authors.