Since I created this blog, I will be the first one to post on it. I wanted to share my memory of when Mom adopted Mister.
If I get the dates wrong, forgive me, but I believe it was the Christmas before Mom got sick, which would have been Christmas of 2013. We were having the missionaries, elders and a senior missionary couple, over for dinner on Christmas Eve. When I opened the door to let them in, this little black and white dog came trotting into the house. I was surprised and wondering why the missionaries had brought their dog to dinner, especially since missionaries are not supposed to have pets. They quickly explained the dog was not theirs and he was hanging out in the yard when they drove up, following them to the door.
So this little dog invites himself into the house, trots right back to the kitchen where Mom is busy getting dinner ready, sits down at her feet, and looks up at her like he has known her his whole life. It was love at first sight!
And from there, we all know the rest of the story. Mom tried for months to find his owner, but he was not wearing a collar or tags and no one responded to the ads. So he became her little Mister, our first indoor dog. He was completely devoted to her and not spoiled at all! He had two beds, one for the laundry room, where he slept at night, and one for her sewing room so she could have someplace to put him when she needed her hands free. He had his pick of the blankets on the back of the couch, including Dad's green Snuggie. And Mom adored him.
In the last few months of Mom's life, Mister was not allowed to be on her hospital bed without supervision because the slightest jolt would cause Mom a lot of pain. So what did he do? He dragged his bed from the laundry room and placed it under her hospital bed where he could still be close to her and have some protection from all of the loving grandchildren that visited Mom!
We tease and say that he must have come straight from God's lap because he has been such a comfort to all of us, not just Mom, in the last several years. But seriously, that will be one of the first things I want to ask God about when we meet again! :)
Anyone else have memories of Mom and Mister, please comment in the Comments section!
Mr. is indeed a gentlemanly little guy with a perpetual smile and unquenchable enthusiasm. Traits he probably got from his mother!
ReplyDeleteThanks for creating the blog, Andrea.First time, in my old age, I've ever visited a blog. Take care!
I remember when the search was on for Mister's owners. When it was determined that a previous owner could not be located, it took a while to decided if he'd be taken to the shelter or not. Each time we asked about him staying or going, we were told no decision had been made yet. We had been talking a while about getting another, smaller dog. Mister was good with our kids and dog, so we decided that we'd offer to take him. We called to let Mike and Jan that we'd take him as we had talked with them the night before and there was still no decision on what to do with the little dog. Nobody answered when we called, so we left a message. Later that evening we got a call back letting us know that they'd decided to keep Mister. :) That little dog really dodged a bullet!
ReplyDeleteThe way I remember Mister's entrance to the family is this: It was a wonderfully warm Christmas Eve and Grandma and Aunt Mel had just arrived. We were standing on the front porch when this little black and white dog streaked across the lawn like an arrow straight for mom. It bounded up the steps and launched right into Mom's arms. She cuddled it like a baby and started cooing at it while it licked her face. I (and I think everyone else) stood there dumbfounded. Mom had always been kind to our dogs, but I don't think anyone ever described her as a "dog person".
ReplyDeleteOnce when we were sitting around speculating about Mr. Buster's history, I proposed that maybe he'd been the pet of a little elderly lady who had passed away and her family just drove him out to Thompson Valley hoping he would find a home. Mom seemed taken aback. Later, when Mom was diagnosed I regretted ever saying that. But I wonder if maybe Mr. Buster's mission in life is to comfort those who need it.
When Mom was taking Sutent, the chemo drug, I had a day off from work and came home to spend the day with her. She'd walked into the family room and when I followed a few minutes later, I found her laying on the couch, legs propped on the arm closest to the french door with mister on her chest licking her face. I tried to shoo him off, but she said "oh no! he's just worried about me. He's been such a comfort". Sometimes the Sutent would cause her blood pressure to drop suddenly and she would have to lay down quick before passing out. He seemed to know when this was about to happen and stayed right with her.
A magic dog.