The good guys thread

[kuhio98]

Bella's Blessing - The black Lab that introduced him to the love of his life sent an emissary to his wedding.
by Michael Gordon

Tall pines framed an elegant outdoor amphitheater nestled in the Wallowa Mountains. This small ranch in Joseph, Oregon, was truly the ideal place for Kara and me to be married. We loved the outdoors.

Looking out at the scenery on the morning of the ceremony, I marveled that this was everything we wanted when we got engaged. Well, almost everything, I reminded myself. There was one thing missing: Bella. And she was the reason we were here in the first place.

Six years ago to the day, I’d just finished competing in the Black Diamond Triathlon in Enumclaw, Washington. I was pretty proud that I’d raced well, having swam, biked and run 32 miles.

I was waiting to accept my award when a black Labrador retriever wandered over to me and licked my leg. “Bella! Come back here,” another triathlete said when she saw what her dog was doing. “Sorry about that.” Bella flopped down at my feet.

“No problem,” I said. “My name’s Michael.” Kara introduced herself. We’d heard of each other before—the triathlon community is pretty small—but we may never have actually met if it weren’t for Bella.

As I got to know Kara, I got to know Bella. I got to love the way she jumped around me to get attention, begged me to play fetch or tug-of-war. The three of us became inseparable. We planned to make her a part of our wedding ceremony, but Bella died just two months before the big day.

“We’ll just have to imagine her here with us,” Kara said, coming up behind me. She couldn’t even see my face, but she knew what I was thinking. “Let’s get ready for the first part of the day.”

Kara and I were both signed up to participate in a local triathlon just minutes from the ranch. Some of the guests thought we were a little crazy to compete in a multi-stage endurance race the morning of our wedding, but without Bella, we were glad for a special way to commemorate how we’d met.

“I like to think she will be running right along with us all the way,” Kara said as we stretched and warmed up.

“She won’t have trouble keeping up with us, now that she’s got her angel wings,” I said. I was trying to be cheerful, but I really missed her. The day that was supposed to be perfect couldn’t be perfect without her.

I ran wearing my vest and tie. Kara attached a wedding veil to her bike helmet. A few members of the wedding party joined in as well. Some of them had raced in the same triathlon where Bella had brought us together.

Friends and family cheered us on from the sidelines and the locals loved our “formal” triathlon attire. Kara and I finished in the top tier.

We headed back to the ranch to make our final preparations for the main event. As we got out of the car, something on the grounds caught my eye. Something black with a long tail.

“That dog looks just like Bella,” I said. Kara turned to look. The strange dog bucked excitedly whenever someone showed her attention and begged games of fetch from the kids.

“She acts just like Bella too,” Kara said. “Those are her mannerisms.”

One of the owners of the ranch hurried up to us. “I’m sorry,” she said, gesturing to the dog. “Luna just loves being around people. We can keep her inside for the day if you want, so she doesn’t bother anyone.”

“No, she’s great! I love having her here,” Kara said. “She reminds me of my old Lab. She couldn’t be here today....” She smiled over at Bella’s look-alike, who was now engaged in a fierce game of tug-of-war. Just like Bella used to do, I thought.

Kara and I went inside to shower and change in record time. We reemerged to find our guests settling themselves in the cool shade of the little amphitheater. I lined up with the minister and my groomsmen beneath the grove of pine trees that surrounded the ranch. Musicians played as my bride began her walk down the aisle.

Just as Kara reached me, I felt something touch my leg. I looked down. There was Luna, flopped at my feet, an exact likeness of Bella the day she’d introduced me to the love of my life. Luna lay there, pressed against my leg, while Kara and I said our vows and pledged to spend our lives together.

It was the perfect wedding. Bella may not have been there, but she’d found a way to give us her blessing by way of the Rainbow Bridge.

[Tashia]

Nice story and link. Thanks!! Hearing about others caring and doing good reminds me that I am not alone!!

[Taz_Zoee]

Oh, that story brought on the tears.

RIP Bella!!

[Karen]

Aww, like the Border Collie emissary that attended Uncle Mac's funeral.

[kuhio98]

Xena, Warrior Dog
She’d run out of ideas to help her special needs son.
Linda Hickey

I picked up popsicle sticks from the den floor. I’d spent all afternoon writing words on them, trying to make it fun for my younger son, Jonny, to speak...or even just to repeat the sentence that my husband, Grant, and I had been practicing with him for months: “Do you want to play?”

It didn’t work. Nothing worked. Jonny knew how to read, though not at his grade level. He knew how to speak too, but no one could get more than a word or two out of him, if that. I’d tried every idea I could think of, talked to God about it the way I talked to him about everything. But Jonny was eight years old. If he couldn’t speak in sentences and hold a conversation by now, would he ever?

It went beyond unlocking his speech. If Jonny could talk, it would open a whole world of possibilities for him. He would be able to connect with people, maybe make a friend. That was what I wanted for him more than anything.

Jonny didn’t hit the developmental milestones that our older son, Christian, had. Things that didn’t faze other kids, like picking up food with his hands or having someone stand too close to him, freaked him out.

He was two when we got the diagnosis: autism. I could hardly say the word. I avoided telling people. I didn’t want them to judge him. We tried physical, speech and occupational therapies. Special diets. Medication. Nothing changed.

Jonny was content to be with his family, but he ignored everyone else, even our two gentle old dogs. It broke my heart to see him retreat into himself, playing all alone. In some ways that was harder to take than his other behavioral extreme—uncontrollable meltdowns.

I never knew what would set him off. Once in the deli line at the supermarket, he’d started hyperventilating. Was it something he smelled? The sight of the deli meats? People crowding him? “Jonny, focus,” I said. He stared through me. Then he fell to the floor, kicking and screaming.

“Is he okay?” other customers asked. I’d hurried Jonny out of the store. I didn’t say what I was thinking. No, he’s not okay. He probably never will be.

I felt ashamed for thinking that. I hadn’t given up hope for Jonny, but I’d run out of ideas to help him. I was so discouraged, so exhausted. I flopped now onto the couch. The local news was on.

A horrifying image. A fawn-colored puppy on a veterinarian’s exam table, covered in scabs, so emaciated it was hard to believe she was alive. The reporter mentioned that the rescue group had set up a Facebook page under “Xena, the Warrior Puppy.” They were hoping she would pull through.

I grabbed my laptop and went to the page. “Xena appears to be a four-month-old Lab mix,” the post read. “Her nose scabs are likely from trying to escape a locked crate where she had no access to food. Her chances of survival are less than one percent.”

My heart went out to the little dog. “Please let Xena live,” I asked God. Like I said, I talk to him about everything.

The next morning before the boys woke up I checked Facebook. “Xena made it through the night and she’s eating!” Yes!

From then on, I checked her page several times a day. Grant teased me about my new obsession. I wasn’t the only one. Xena had more than 9,000 followers. Little by little, she grew stronger.

It might sound strange that I got emotionally invested in a dog I’d never met, but Xena was so inspiring. She’d been given almost no chance of surviving, yet here she was, thriving. A warrior, all right. I wasn’t holding out for something that miraculous for Jonny, but maybe there was hope for him yet.

I saw an update one afternoon saying there would be a meet and greet with Xena in November, about two months after I’d seen her on TV. I told Grant. “Isn’t that for people looking to adopt her?” he asked.

I nodded. “I know it’s crazy to take on another dog now,” I said. “But we would give her lots of love.”

Grant’s expression softened. “Okay,” he said. “Just don’t get your hopes up. I’ll bet tons of people want to give her a home. And there’s no guarantee she’d get along with our dogs.” He didn’t have to add, What about Jonny? There was no telling how he’d react.

A few days before the meet and greet, I found out something else that gave me pause. A Facebook update said that Xena wasn’t a Lab mix after all. She was a pit-bull mix. I’d seen scary stories on the news about pit bulls attacking people. Could they be trusted around kids, especially one as unpredictable as Jonny?

“I don’t know about this anymore,” Grant said.

“Me either,” I admitted. But then I thought about how I didn’t want people to judge Jonny because he had autism. How could I write off an entire breed of dog? “Maybe we should just see what she’s like.”

“Fine,” Grant said with a sigh.

The meet and greet was packed. People milling around, even TV news crews. I tensed. What if Jonny freaked out? “Don’t worry,” Grant said. “We won’t stay long.”

We were there maybe five minutes. Just long enough for me to thank Chrissy, the woman who had rescued Xena, for bringing me so much hope the past couple of months. And to see Xena make her entrance. She seemed totally friendly, darting up to people, unafraid despite her history of abuse. That made me want her all the more.

At home I filled out an application to adopt Xena. There were no questions about family members with disabilities. If they weren’t asking, I wasn’t telling. That night, as I made dinner, Grant turned on the news. “Linda!” he called. “It’s the meet and greet.”

I ran to the den. There was Xena. “She’s running straight to Jonny! Did he actually smile at her?”

“I can’t believe I forgot to tell you,” Grant said. “It happened so fast, and we were in such a rush to leave.”

Three months went by and I didn’t hear from the rescue group. All I could do was keep praying and checking Xena’s Facebook page.

Finally, I got a call from Chrissy. “We considered the applications carefully,” she said. “We think your family would be a good fit. Would you like to take Xena for a trial visit?”

I shouted yes so loud I think God might have needed earplugs in heaven.

Xena was dropped off that Monday morning to meet our other dogs before Jonny came home from school. The dogs sniffed each other, then ambled around the house together. Well, the other dogs ambled. Xena bounded.

Time to pick up Jonny. I opened the van door and Xena hopped right into his booster seat. “Make yourself at home,” I said, laughing.

The carpool line seemed to take forever. Finally Jonny slid open the door.

“Remember Xena?” I said.

His eyes lit up. Xena hopped out of the booster seat. Jonny got in. His seat belt clicked. Then I heard something else.

“Mom, look! She has four legs! And two eyes. And two ears. And she’s brown and white. And she has a booboo on her nose.”

My breath hitched. Did Jonny just talk? In complete sentences? How could that be? After all these years.…

“That’s right, honey,” I said.

“She needs a Band-Aid for the booboo,” Jonny declared.

Now I was the one who couldn’t speak.

Xena jumped into Jonny’s lap, crowding him. He giggled, not minding one bit.

Xena became a part of our family. She’s gotten Jonny to open up in many ways. Not only did he get over his phobia of touching food, he makes her dinner every night. He chatters nonstop and even got an award at school for his friendliness. He marches right up to people at the supermarket and says, “Give me a hug!”

I took over Xena’s Facebook page. I proudly tell thousands of people about Jonny’s autism and the incredible difference Xena has made.

“What kind of dog is Xena?” I like to ask Jonny.

“She’s a warrior, Mom!” he says.

“That’s right. Just like you.”

Miracles too, both of them. That’s what I talk to God about these days.

[Taz_Zoee]

Love the Xena story. Although, it was difficult to read the end through the tears of joy!!

[kuhio98]

Community thanks beloved mailman with notes, money for trip to Hawaii

LAYTON — Mailman Brent Coulam’s 42 years of service in a Layton community went far beyond delivering letters.

As a token of thanks, residents of the West Layton neighborhood where Coulam worked surprised him by attaching balloons to mailboxes filled with thank-you notes and gifts Saturday, the last day before his retirement. They even gathered “fun money” for him to use on a vacation in Hawaii.

“He was very touched,” resident Andrea Abbott said. “He even got teary-eyed a couple of times. A lot of people just made the effort to come out and say goodbye and give him hugs. We had little kids out there. He loved those little kids and would always wave and talk to them.”

Coulam helped a lot of people in many ways, according to Abbott. He’s been delivering her mail since she moved into the neighborhood 22 years ago.

Examples of Coulam’s acts of service include carrying groceries and taking mail directly to residents' doors when he knew someone in the family was sick. A couple of weeks ago, he noticed a truck on fire and ran up to the home to let the owners know.

“They ran out, and he stayed out there with them and tried to help put the fire out until the fire department came,” Abbott said. “Then he went on his way, but he saved that family’s home from being destroyed by a car fire.”

Despite all the praise, Coulam remains humble.

"It's just part of the job," he said. "It really is part of the job. You're supposed to keep our eye on the public.”

During his decades of service, Coulam became close with many of the people on his route. Neighbors said he always took the time to chat with people who were outside and remembered what family members were doing.

"I have kids in this neighborhood who have kids who are grown," he said.