This poem is so beautiful and moving, and the picture chosen to illustrate it warms my heart!
The thoughts expressed by this precious, elderly dog are more alike to than different than what's in the dear hearts of our senior citizens such as my 90 year old mom.
Inside of that fragile, timeworn body is still the spirit of the young woman who used to pick up the preschool me in her arms to dance around to the Fabulous Fifties music played on Your Lucky Strike Hit Parade or waltz me around to the wonderful melodies of Johann Strauss. Still there is the one who used to read to me at night and who would, on those nights when there was neither church nor school to wake up early for in the morning, come home from her second shift job at Delco-Remy to take me outdoors to look at the moon and share conversation and cups of tea after that.
So often I look back on those times and wonder how they flew by so quickly.
Today, she's assisted in her mobility by a combination of a wheelchair and aides--though she's undergoing therapy to see if she can be brought back to the place where she would only need a walker.
Yesterday, she walked with me on wooded trails, sandy shores, railroad tracks, sidewalks, cave trails, and even a mile down and back into The Grand Canyon back in 1969.
Anytime that she thought that I was getting put down, she was always there like a mother lioness defending her cub.
To this day, she's still my very special champion. She not only won't allow for other people to put me down in any way without speaking up but, also, won't allow me to put myself down.
She tells me how much she loves me and how proud she is of me--and, of course, I love to hear people say the same things about her. So many people use the word, sweet, to describe her, and I feel good all over when I hear them say things like that about her.
My heart is full of so many wonderful things to say about my mom, and I want to thank the writer of this poem (KerrieAnnS) for how her description of what might be going through the mind of an elderly dog has ended up inspiring me to put so many of my thoughts (though not all of them, as that would take forever) into a tribute to this real blessing of a person.
Lillian Ainsley (Jobe) Phillips was born on April 6, 1922, and I'm celebrating the day she was born by giving Kerrie Ann a special gift that's perfect for the occasion. She can find it when she looks up her GPs.
Ainsley Jo Phillips
The thoughts expressed by this precious, elderly dog are more alike to than different than what's in the dear hearts of our senior citizens such as my 90 year old mom.
Inside of that fragile, timeworn body is still the spirit of the young woman who used to pick up the preschool me in her arms to dance around to the Fabulous Fifties music played on Your Lucky Strike Hit Parade or waltz me around to the wonderful melodies of Johann Strauss. Still there is the one who used to read to me at night and who would, on those nights when there was neither church nor school to wake up early for in the morning, come home from her second shift job at Delco-Remy to take me outdoors to look at the moon and share conversation and cups of tea after that.
So often I look back on those times and wonder how they flew by so quickly.
Today, she's assisted in her mobility by a combination of a wheelchair and aides--though she's undergoing therapy to see if she can be brought back to the place where she would only need a walker.
Yesterday, she walked with me on wooded trails, sandy shores, railroad tracks, sidewalks, cave trails, and even a mile down and back into The Grand Canyon back in 1969.
Anytime that she thought that I was getting put down, she was always there like a mother lioness defending her cub.
To this day, she's still my very special champion. She not only won't allow for other people to put me down in any way without speaking up but, also, won't allow me to put myself down.
She tells me how much she loves me and how proud she is of me--and, of course, I love to hear people say the same things about her. So many people use the word, sweet, to describe her, and I feel good all over when I hear them say things like that about her.
My heart is full of so many wonderful things to say about my mom, and I want to thank the writer of this poem (KerrieAnnS) for how her description of what might be going through the mind of an elderly dog has ended up inspiring me to put so many of my thoughts (though not all of them, as that would take forever) into a tribute to this real blessing of a person.
Lillian Ainsley (Jobe) Phillips was born on April 6, 1922, and I'm celebrating the day she was born by giving Kerrie Ann a special gift that's perfect for the occasion. She can find it when she looks up her GPs.
Ainsley Jo Phillips
