A Dog Named Valor
Joan Quimby
Copyright © 2011, Joan Quimby
ISBN 978-1-937520-19-9
Published by First Edition Design eBook Publishing August 2011
www.firsteditiondesignpublishing.com
Smashwords Edition
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the authors and publisher.
Dedication
This book is dedicated to my mother, Blanche Quimby, who loved the puppies and encouraged me to write their story.
Introduction
This book is a true story about a couple of puppies. It is also a story about choices and how all choices have consequences.
Life is full of lessons. Some lessons are enthusiastically sought after, while others come as surprises. Lessons can be easy and fun or hard, making us wish we had played hooky from class that day.
Writing a book has not been one of my ambitions. I never considered myself a writer, nor was I even an avid reader. In my high school’s English classes, when required to expound on a story I had read, I considered verbally telling its highlights to be the lesser of two undesirable, yet unavoidable ways of completing the task. How thankful I am today for computers that come with spell check and grammar check.
It was about three o’clock in the morning when I awoke with the phrase A Dog Named Valor running through my mind. There had been times in the past when the Lord would wake me and give me words for a poem, but in my spirit I realized this was different. This was to be the title of a book, a story about the puppies we rescued.
Sleepily, I said, “Okay, Lord, I’ll write the story, but we both know I don’t have a clue as to writing a book and having it published. You’re going to have to show me how to get this accomplished.”
When I thought the story was finally finished, I asked a friend who worked for a publishing company for an estimate of the cost to get this book published. He thought for a few moments and then told me what the approximate amount would be. “Thanks for your information,” I managed to say in a normal tone of voice, as I sat in shock thinking about the thousands of dollars he had stated. The amount was far more money than what I had. In the years it took me to write this story, not once did it ever occur to me to inquire as to how much it would cost to have a book published. If I had been told the price, quite possibly I would have become discouraged and quit writing.
May the puppies’ story you are about to read be an encouragement to you to persevere in obeying whatever God asks you to do, even if there may be obstacles making the task appear impossible.
There’s an old saying: “Where God guides, He provides.” This book is a testimony of God’s faithfulness and provision. I pray you will be blessed as you enjoy reading A Dog Named Valor.
Chapter 1: The Rescue
Daylight was peeping through an edge of my bedroom window when I suddenly awoke. Looking at the digital clock’s glowing red numbers, I was startled at first by the late hour. Then I remembered it was July Fourth, a holiday; I didn’t have to go to work today.
Lying very still, I listened for sounds that would alert me as to whether the others were already up, or still sleeping. All was quiet except for the soft snoring of Heidi, my German Shepherd, who was napping on the rug beside my bed. Good, I thought to myself, Mom and Roxann are both still asleep.
It was wonderful having Roxann visiting from Virginia, and she would be staying with us all week. Roxann, a registered nurse with a specialty in trauma, taught emergency medical technicians for the fire departments, college, and high school. She was always very busy teaching at the different locations and found it hard to take time off for a vacation. We were very proud of her. Her students turned out to be well trained, knowing exactly what to do when they arrived at an accident scene. Some of her students had even won first place in national EMT competitions.
Because we were up late last night, it had been suggested we all sleep in this morning. Mom however, even at ninety-one years old, was still a morning person who didn’t usually stay in bed after she was awake. And if Mom was up, I needed to be up. Mom had dementia.
In her younger years Mom had been very smart with a good memory, but dementia, of which Alzheimer’s is a form, is a sickness that progressively steals a person’s memory. Sometimes the person even forgets where they are, where they have been, or where they are going. It’s sad, and you feel so helpless, as you notice your intelligent loved one gradually forgetting how to do simple things. And if they aren’t constantly looked after, they can get into a dangerous situation or make a big mess while trying to be helpful.
I was comfortable under the velvety soft pink blanket and white sheet, and didn’t want to move, but reality and responsibility overcame my desire to remain in bed. It was already late and I wanted to be up and dressed with breakfast almost ready by the time my sister, Shirley, arrived.
Shirley, my only sibling, was a mother of four and grandmother of six. With her family grown and having their own homes, she now lived alone in a mobile home park about fifteen miles from Mom and me. It was nice Shirley and I worked for the same publishing company so we got to see each other every day. Roxann was her older daughter, and last night we had made special plans for all of us to spend today together.
As soon as I threw back the covers, Heidi stood and greeted me with wet, sloppy kisses. “Good morning, Heidi,” I said as I gave my beautiful eighty-five-pound pal a big hug. I scratched behind her ears and she turned around so I could also rub her back at the base of her tail. She loved this massage and would have stayed there longer, but I needed to get dressed. “Okay, that’s enough for now,” I told her as I playfully patted her side.
It didn’t take me long to get ready for the day’s activities, and as I approached Mom’s bedroom, I heard her softly singing “Come Thou Almighty King.” It was one of her favorite hymns. She no longer remembered all of the words, and often changed keys within a few phrases, but that was okay. Whenever asked about her off-key singing, she would respond, “When, I sing I’m making a joyful noise unto the Lord.”
Just then Roxann joined me in the hallway. As we greeted each other I said, “Mom’s also up. Listen, you can hear her singing.” We both smiled as we enjoyed the special moments of listening to Mom’s version of the song. “I’m going to let the dogs out and then feed all the animals before I start breakfast.” “Good,” she replied. “I’ll get dressed and then start the coffee brewing.”
Meiling, our little forty-pound Chow mutt, was waiting for me and Heidi in front of the sunroom’s outside door. Meiling was cute, and that was usually the first thing anyone would say about her. She was golden red in color with a jet-black nose. Her large, round, dark brown eyes always glistened mischievously, expressing her happy, outgoing attitude. She stood there enthusiastically wagging her fluffy tail as we approached. “Good morning, Meiling, are you ready to go out?” Her tail increased its momentum, and as I opened the door, both dogs bounded outside.
Feeding the cats was the next project on my agenda. There were two cats, or at least only two that we claimed as ours. The oldest one was Robetussen, who had arrived at our home about four years earlier. She was a beautiful, petite female. Her long calico coat was white with splotches of orange, brown, and black. Henry Hooter, a large gray cat, had shown up the following year. For some unknown reason Shirley named him Henry. I added the Hooter to his name because he had big, round, yellow eyes that reminded me of an owl.
Since our cats ate dry cat food in the garage, and they had an outside cat door, often other animals helped themselves to the food and water. Sometimes I would see these uninvited diners, but I didn’t want anyone to go hungry so I ignored their intrusion. This morning the cat bowls were empty and as I poured the food, Henry and Robe came running in for breakfast. “There are my kitties,” I said to them as they started eating. Their fur felt soft to the touch and even though it slightly disturbed their meal, they enjoyed the attention as I stroked their plush coats and told them how nice they were. The cats came in the house every day for special treats; however, they never wanted to stay in very long. They much preferred to be outside.
The dogs were waiting at the door and eagerly came back inside. As soon as their food was ready, I set their stainless steel bowls on the kitchen floor. Within minutes the bowls were empty and almost spotless.
I heard voices and looked up to see Roxann and her Grammie walking slowly in my direction. They were arm in arm. The moisture in their eyes and the smiles on their faces revealed the joy in their hearts at being together again. Mom spoke first with delightful pride in her voice. “Here’s my Roxannie.” Roxann gave her a big squeeze and a kiss on the cheek and said, “Why don’t you sit in your recliner while I get the coffee started? When it’s ready, I’ll bring you a cup.”
“Okay,” Mom replied as Roxann helped her to the chair. From that location Mom was able to see us in the kitchen, and be a part of the conversation.
Roxann then turned toward me and said, “I called Mom a few minutes ago and she expects to be here in about a half hour.” I was glad to know Shirley’s estimated time of arrival and replied, “Great, I’ll get the popovers mixed and in the oven right away. They need to bake about thirty-five minutes. You can help me set the table, and when your mother arrives, I’ll start cooking the bacon.”
Roxann, Mom, and I were sipping hot coffee in the living room when we heard a key unlock the front door. “Hi, I’m here and I’m hungry,” Shirley announced as she came into the room. We all laughed.
I hurried to the kitchen and found the popovers were almost done. Soon the whole area was filled with the wonderful aroma of bacon frying in the skillet. It wasn’t long before I called out to the hungry trio, “It’s all ready, let’s eat.”
Last night we had decided to re-visit the Silver Springs State Park, and as we ate our favorite breakfast, we chatted about our plans for the day. We would need to leave the house by eight thirty so as to arrive at the park soon after it opened. Counting on lunch, breaks, and our participation in the various activities throughout the park, it would be late afternoon when we would be ready to leave. Then if we kept to that schedule, we should be arriving back home about seven o’clock. Our evening meal had been prepared in advance and would only need heating. After dinner we looked forward to playing a table game or two before bedtime. Sorry, which was one of Mom’s favorite games, would be played first.
With our itinerary all made, we were ready for a wonderful fun day together. But no matter how many plans one makes, sometimes surprises happen and everything changes. We didn’t know it right then, but today was going to be one of those special kinds of days.
It was a perfect day for an outing. There was warm sunshine, fluffy white clouds that gave some shade, and a nice breeze.
We had a wonderful time together on the boat rides, taking turns pushing Mom around in the wheelchair and looking at the variety of items in the different gift shops. And of course we enjoyed the good food and snacks throughout the day. The hours passed quickly. When Mom mentioned she was getting tired, we realized it was past time for us to leave.
On the way home we were talking and laughing. Each one of us proclaimed to be the winner of the game we would be playing after dinner. Then suddenly we were silent. Our attention had changed from boasting to looking at a little puppy that was standing too close to the edge of the busy intersection. As we rode past him, Roxann was the first one to speak. “We’ve got to go back and get him.”