Today I am launching a new
website.
Ta Da!!
It is Travels with Jo https://www.travelswithjo.com/
I’m excited to have fun again, to believe in magic
again, and to believe the world is a beautiful place filled with kind, loving
people. The site will contain a few subjects, books, posts, and perspectives I
find fascinating, hoping to find others who resonate with me. After reading
Auston Kleon’s book Steal Like an Artist, I found a kindred spirit:
“You can cut off your passions and only
focus on one, but after a while, you’ll start to feel phantom limb pain.”
My site will not appeal to everyone, but I’m not
writing for everyone. I am writing for you.
Thanks for reading. Don’t forget https://www.wishonwhitehorses.com/
However, I would be tickled peacock colors
if you would check into my new site and give me any input you feel would be of
help.
https://www.travelswithjo.com/
P.S. I was offended by some ads—not approved by me—that came up on my Wish site, so I took them off. I apologize for their presence.
And now for Chapter 53 of Your Story Matters.
Chapter 53
I named Him Gabriel
I figured a Rottweiler was a Guardian Angel.
Especially
since we didn't find him., he found us.
We lived on
Hendrick's Hill in Eugene, Oregon, when a gangly adolescent pup appeared at our
door.
We weren't
in the market for a dog, especially not a Rottweiler. So, at first, I tried to
find a home for him. I put up signs and called a friend who wanted a dog but
not a Rottweiler.
If someone
dropped him off, they missed a good dog. But then, they had to leave him, for
he became my dog.
He was a
mix but largely a Rottweiler, not a breed I would have chosen.
In three
days, he was my dog. I took down the signs and called the Vet for an
appointment. I knew something was wrong with his skin for I itched when I
hugged him. The Vet said he did have a skin condition from the stress of being
lost, poor kid. He prescribed a medicated shampoo, and that fixed his problem.
He was a
resourceful dog, for he found us, not someone who would take him to the pound,
plus he wooed and won us over. I invited him into our backyard, where he slept
in the doghouse—at first—do you think I would leave a dog in a doghouse? We had
the doghouse because it came with the property. The next step was to invite him
inside the house with us.
It was
around the time we had begun construction on our log home about 20 miles
away.
Gabe and I
would travel to our forested land together and meet with the contractors.
He was a
gentle dog—he could pull the leash pretty hard, though, but rarely barked and
was never aggressive. The neighbors liked for him to be in our backyard because
he kept the deer from eating their rosebushes. We had him neutered, although it
hurt me to do it. The Veterinary assistant said," It takes balls to neuter
your dog."
One day in
the little town of Marcola, the address of our log home, we saw a dead dog
lying beside the road. Gabe looked at me in abject bewilderment.
"It's
sad, isn't it?"
Two
species in communication. He seemed to understand my sympathy.
Together,
Gabe and I drove—well, I drove; he stood and mentally pushed the vehicle. He
never got in the front seat; he just stood behind the console with anticipation
dripping like my friend Sylvia's St Bernard dog's drool. (Gabe didn't drool but
left black hairs embedded in the car's headliner. One day, I put a scarf over
his head to protect the headliner from his hair, but I soon gave that up, A
Rottweiler in a babushka?
Gabe had
concluded that every take-out window offered dog biscuits, as most did. He
would wait patiently until he got one. But sometimes--terrible people that they
were--they didn't give out biscuits, and Gabe would give them a piece of his
mind--barking--as we drove away.
When D.D.
lived in San Jose, California, and was called away on a business trip, Gabe and
I traveled from Oregon, down that long state of California to her apartment to
care for her critters.
I had a
cold, Gabe was sick of traveling, I was coughing, Gabe was barking, and I
couldn't find diddly squat in San Jose. Something about that area—the flat
land, a bay where you don't know if you are going east or west, and the cars on
the freeway are traveling 75 miles an hour. That doesn’t give a driver much
time to look around.
I found
her apartment and recovered well after resting for a day. However, taking her
dog, Cherish, and Gabe for a walk was a testament to my courage. With a
Rottweiler and a Great Dane, I felt I had a team of horses. Thank heavens they
walked ahead of me, and both went in the same direction.
Gabe did
get in trouble once, or rather, we did. When I opened the front door to a
knock, I found a disgruntled neighbor who complained that Gabe had chased him
on his motorcycle, and he had to outrun him. He feared for his little daughter.
I didn't
know that had happened. I had been away for a while, and Neil had let Gabe out
the front door instead of the back, where the yard was fenced. Well, you know
dogs and moving objects and a motorcycle? Gabe must have thought he had a
cougar by the tail. I told the man I trusted Gabe with my life.
I was
afraid he might have us arrested or take Gabe away. I reassured him that I
would keep Gabe on a leash.
Well, this
man, I praise him. He told me later that he was a Navy Seal. Not only do I
honor his profession, (do you know that Navy Seals in training must run 4 miles
in 31 minutes and be deprived of sleep for 5 days during Hell Week? That's not
human). That man is a hero in my eyes regarding his reaction to Gabe. When he
came up the road—his road Y'ed at the corner of ours—plus it dipped down a
hill, so you didn't see a vehicle until it was at the junction.
When Gabe
and I were out, the man would stop at the junction and call Gabe. One day, he
kneeled on the road and let Gabe run to him. All ended well. They were friends.
One
evening, as the sun was setting, Gabe and I were walking through a parking lot
where most of the cars had left for the day.
Two men
walked past us. I heard one tell the other, "Not with that dog. I
wouldn't."
What did I
hear? Did those men wish me harm? Was I at risk?
Gabe and I
continued on as though nothing had happened, and I patted Gabe. "Gabriel,
you are my Guardian Angel, aren't you?"
And Now.....
