Tag: puppy

A Girl and her Doggie

A Girl and her Doggie

February 19, 2020

Sometimes you choose a pet. You know, you excitedly go to the shelter or the pet store and the perfect friend snags your heart instantly.

Sometimes you are fostering a litter of puppies and one looks up at you with a connection that will never break.

(Christina and Primrose: Pretty sure this was the day she decided to keep her!)

This was the way with Christina and the little black puppy that became our Primrose (Primmy, Prim, or even Primrose Everdeen Tart – when she has chewed something).

Prim has been in our home for two baby births. Until Lucas was about 2, he was her little pup. She followed him around, protected him, and I used to say if dogs choose their people, Prim chose Christina and Lucas. The second birth she’s been here for is Theadora.

Thea loves Prim. She gets excited when Prim snuggles up next to her and squeals “my doggie!” and will either pet her gently or snuggle her whole little face into Prim’s soft fur. Thea also feeds Prim everything… if it tastes really “yummy!” then a bit of it gets dropped over the highchair after “doggie!” gets yelled. Prim knows that means – come get food.

It’s hard for me to get these as pictures because Thea knows what a phone is. If I try to take a picture while I’m sitting next to her, she drops what she’s doing and grabs said phone!

Lucas has grown away from Prim and animals – he likes things with wheels right now. He gets super excited about small animals like helping with the Guinea Pigs or Minuit, but big ones are pillow to him, that’s it.

Prim is a pillow or sleeping buddy for anyone on the couch – although she isn’t supposed to be there; she just took up Sheba’s lookout position. At night, she snuggles curled up in a little ball on the end of Christina’s, Lucas’ or Jillian’s bed. She loves her people. She’ll snuggle next to Thea’s baby pen if Thea’s sleeping there – nestled under the table but up against the baby pen.

We went to visit a friend & they had a Jack Russel puppy. When Thea got home she grabbed Prim in a hug and stroked her saying softly, “my doggie, my doggie.” My baby is thankful for her special doggie.

Type at you next time!

~Nancy Tart

The Story of Sheba

December 28, 2019

The Story of Sheba

Once there was a little girl who loved dogs and prayed for a little black dog.  Her mom had already agreed to take the least wanted puppy from a litter about to happen.  Her mom prayed the puppy was black.

A few weeks later, Mom got a call – the mommy dog had shoved one baby puppy away and it needed special care.  Mom said, “we’ll take it” and the tiny “runt of the litter” fluffy puppy came to her furever home. That was February 25, 2008, almost 12 years ago. And yes, other than a white spot on her tummy that grew to cover her belly and some brownish tan on her paws, the puppy was black!

Sheba with (L-to-R) Kimberly (Sheba loved snuggling on the couch), Jaquline (Sheba would sleep on the walker to keep Kimberly and Becky from “racing” the baby around!), and Thea.

Sheba became the Tart family’s perfect dog.  She loved the three little humans who grew up with her.  Kimberly was only five months older than Sheba!  Sheba ran around, grew up, played, made doggie friends, herded chickens, mothered lost dogs who wandered in, loved on chickens when the Tarts lived on their farm, snuggled with baby chicks, guinea pigs, the two rabbits, and Christina’s baby puppy, Prim. 

Sheba had a wonderful doggie life. 

L-to-R: Sheba with Jaquline (Jaquline insisted Sheba loved “Snow Dogs”), Kimberly had “dressed” Sheba in a beaded necklace she made, Sheba’s favorite sleeping position on any couch.
L-to-R: Sheba in the playroom, Sheba loved the tile floor in that house!, Mom said “no more movies” and the girls couldn’t find the remote… (Sheba had it!) Sheba loved to sleep on that table for some odd reason.

(top) Sheba with puppy Primrose, (bottom) Sheba with Lady (one of our doggie friends), (right) Thea climbed up on the couch to snuggle Sheba, who was sleeping in her new, weird, favorite position.

L-to-R: Baby Lucas, Jillian, and Sheba at the end of the bed (right next to the crib), Sheba’s favorite spot in that garage (next to the food bag!), Thea rubbing Sheba (she loved her soft fur and had just learned “dog!”)

Last year she started to slow down a bit.  In December of this year, she started feeling sick some days.  The vet said her stomach was failing. Vitamins and special food helped a little.  She wasn’t able to digest all her food and she would get skinny and we had decided once she was in pain, we would put her to sleep.  None of us wanted to lose our Sheba.  She loved being outside when it was cool because she was bushy furry (we teased she was an a/c dog because she slept on one of the air conditioning vents in summer and almost refused to go outside in summer daylight!).  On cooler days, she would play on our run while we were outside.  Christmas Day it was gorgeous.  Sheba said hi to both Grandmas when they visited and ran outside almost the whole day in gentle cool breezes.  We were petting and snuggling with her by turns.  She sleeps a lot since she’s been over 10 so when she curls down to sleep we usually let her rest.  We were enjoying a Christmas campfire and telling stories.  Louis went inside to get some water.  I knew Sheba was fully asleep when Louis stopped by her longer than just to stroke her and turned his flashlight on.  I handed Thea to Mom and we verified that she was fully gone. I stroked her soft, fluffy coat one last time before I wrapped her in her blanket.

The older girls came out to help.  We buried her and said goodbye to our best furry friend.  Sheba had spent more time with me than any other dog.  She was our first family dog. My mom said, “Sheba probably found Boompa and Aunt Mary in heaven.” Christina laughed, “oh, yes, she instantly found Aunt Mary!” Because every time Mary would stay with us, Sheba would seek her bed out and snuggle with her – I’d be like, “no dogs in the bed, Mary,” and she’d giggle, wrap Sheba in a bear hug and say, “but she’s a big, fluffy stuffed animal!” and Sheba would give us the sweet sad eyes so she’d get to sleep with Mary.  Sheba always snuggled up with anyone who wasn’t feeling well – she always seemed to know before we did.

Kimberly said she had prayed that Sheba would get to run loose outside, thinking of us having a fenced yard at our new house, but Sheba had been running loose anytime she was outside lately and stayed near the house because she didn’t feel good. 

Louis set candles out on her grave for the night.  We’ve planted flowers now.  Each pet we’ve lost, we’ve buried and planted a tree over it as a reminder.  Louis called Sheba our perfect dog.  That she was. 

Flower Bed for Sheba
The Garden Bed we planted for Sheba

Thea’s first Christmas was Sheba’s last.  Our furry family treasure went to heaven, “raced over the rainbow bridge” as Jillian said, after spending a full Christmas Day with her family and “Grandmas.” It had been Sheba’s favorite outside day, gentle cool breezes with a mild, wintery temperature where she’d stand, face in the wind and wag that super fluffy “duster” tail. I’m going to miss my Sheba.  Two months shy of 12 full years from her February 25th birthday – rather long for a dog.  Goodbye, my sweet, lovable, playful furry baby; I love you Sheba, run free and fast with no leash and no borders! Your human family will miss you!

Type at you later,

~Nancy Tart

Questions:

September 23, 2019

Questions

I love how children ask questions.  Sometimes their questions make you go search something.  Like “what is a rainbow?” or “why are leaves green?”

Sometimes their questions mirror your own; but those you won’t speak.

You know, questions that your doubting mind asks but your thinking heart understands.

“Why are you crying?” I ask.

My little girl is riding with me to go pick up two of her big sisters, “why did Aunt Mary die?  Why is Mandy’s mom gone?  Jay is a baby; he will never remember his mom.”

Her tears fall as she speaks.  I let her finish talking.  My heart aches.  I ask those questions in my head too. 

“I miss my baby sister too.” I start, I want to connect with her heart. “Our world is broken because of sin.”  She nods, she has heard this too. 

“I know,” she is still slowly crying, “but she loved Jesus since she was little like me.”  (Mary had told them once that she was five when she promised Jesus her heart. I was there.  She was telling everyone about Jesus and was just five years old.)  Jaquline didn’t know how complex her aunt’s life had become so fast.  Because of sinful controlling people in her life that kept her bogged down, in fear of her life or her family’s life, and assaulted her mentally as they tried to keep her quiet and separate her from anyone who truly loved her.  As a young teen, some guy misused her, showed her that from a certain spot he could see her father’s bedroom, and told her one shot through the window would kill the man she loved the most.  He was the first to rip her young heart to shreds with his awful controlling self – then he had the gall to continue to threaten her when she moved 300 miles away!  Others treated her like dirt; lying about those she loved and people who cared about her until she actually believed these lies and isolated herself from those who would have helped her.

I could hate these people.  Instead I pray for them. 

But she’s my baby sister.  There was a part of me that wanted to go “Good Citizen” on their carcasses.  But I know Jesus died for them just like He died for me and I am supposed to love my enemies.

Switch back to my car on the interstate with my nine year old sitting shotgun with silent tears crawling down her fair cheeks.  This all flashes really fast so the same song is still playing.

“Do you ever think about where Aunt Mary is now?” Jaquline says. Newsong’s “My Heart is Already There” was playing in the background.

“Yes.” All the time.  That comforts me. “She’s with Jesus.  Can you imagine?  Being in His presence and seeing his face?”

Jaquline giggles. “Maybe all her puppies will be there.”  (Mary loved animals and was always trying to get a dog, but always the guy she lived with didn’t want one.)

“Remember the pictures of her as a baby chasing Boodle?” I ask (cutest little Maltese my family had twenty years ago) Jaquline laughs.  “I bet she’s petting him instead of chasing him now.”

“I ask Jesus why Aunt Mary is gone.” Her voice is distant. “He doesn’t answer.”

I sighed, “do you know why Jesus made us?”

“To be with Him.” Bingo.

“Yes, He wanted a relationship with us.  He loves each of us.  He didn’t want Mary to die, but now she is with Him all the time.  Only God knows when each person’s time comes to die.  We all will die one day.”

“I always hope to die when I’m old like Boompa,” Jaquline said.  “I’m not so sad for Boompa, but I’m so sad for Aunt Mary.  I’m sad for Grandma.” Yes.  Same for me.  I miss my father immensely.  I miss my sister.  I can’t fathom the depth of grief for my mother. 

“Jesus will comfort Grandma.  We have to help love her too.”  I say.

“We can be Jesus’ arms and hug her!” Jaquline’s tears have dried a bit and she’s now thinking about serving others.  She loves helping; it usually brings her happiness.

“Yes.” I smiled at her as we parked.  “And sometimes Jesus uses her arms to hug you, too.”

Big smiles return. 

Yes.  I totally miss my sister.  I grieve for the harshness she ended up living through for the last few years of her life.  23.  Her life’s clock stopped so short, only 23 years.  I always dreamed of her silly dancing at our Christmas parties for ages, smiling her beaming-happy-smile as she watched nieces and her daughter walk shakily down their aisle to their forever-love, dancing with her sons at their weddings, encouraging my teenagers in their Christian walk toward womanhood, and living her new-found free life focused on her three little angels.  Their plans, maybe not together, but at least working together for the best – the children. So, yes, I asked that question.  “Why, God?  Why is my baby sister dead?”  It seemed so surreal for me.  No body.  No last look.  No nothing.  I keep expecting her to drive up, drop the littles off, and enjoy some of whatever food we have just cooked. 

I know this world is broken by sin.  I know it wasn’t ever in God’s plan for us to have death.  I know my grandmothers, father, and baby sister are in heaven in the presence of God.  I have hope I will see them again.  But yes, I did ask those questions.  Yes, my heart aches for my family who must live without her.  I pray for all of us daily.  I find it hardest to pray for those who have hurt her, but that is my challenge.  I must love them as Jesus did.

My mind drifts back:

“…He has called us too! He has called us too! We are all disciples!  Even me and you!” The little voice yells each stanza of the VBS song.  Jumping with excitement, “did I get them all right?” 

I had been singing along and am raking something for a vegetable bed.  “Yes, Mary, don’t bounce on my tilled dirt.” We laugh and she points at her shoeprints.

“Yippeeeeeee!” She hollers and spins.  “Where’s Easter!  I’m gonna sing it to Easter!”  And she runs off in a singing blur, little bright blue eyes sparkling with life, long wispy blonde hair flying about in the Georgia breeze, she’s going to find that silly yellow hen that actually loves to be captured by Mary and sits contentedly tucked in her arms.  I look up to see my vibrant baby sister swinging on the swingset with Easter in her lap, projecting her beautiful voice with some soul-singer power as she practices the song for tomorrow’s VBS service. (You know, where the kids show off to the adults what they’ve learned in the week) Mary would tell the world that she asked Jesus in her heart about two years later.  She had such a love for life and care for others.  No one is perfect.  We aren’t Jesus.  I love her for her heart.  I will always love my baby sister. No, loss never “gets easy” but I do have hope in Jesus that I will see her again.  And that keeps me out of falling into bitterness. I can’t allow my grief to turn into bitterness.  I can’t be Rose from Overcomer; I have to choose joy.

And just like a soundtrack to my life, as I slide back in the car with the two older girls in tow, For King and Country’s “I Choose Joy” is shouting from the speakers.

Thank you, Jesus.  You know my heart.

Type at you next time,

~Nancy Tart

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