The good guys thread

[kuhio98]

Rescuers Trying to Save One Dog Accidentally Save 12, Thanks to Selfless Stray

In Dallas, Texas, a group of dedicated animal rescuers had pursued an elusive pup who was determined to live in a patch of woods in a city park.

Recently, one of the equally determined rescuers was approached by the very dog she was looking for, who proceeded to bark at her and move deeper into the woods.

The rescuer, Marina, found herself surprised by the dog's behavior. "He's never acted like that before," she said. "I was worried that maybe he was sick or something happened to him."

When Marina followed the pup into the woods, she began to hear yapping, and realized that the stray dog she had intended to rescue knew of a group of pups who needed Marina's help even more than he did.

Beneath a burned tree near a muddy creek bed, Marina found a litter of cold, hungry puppies. The ten puppies were accompanied by their exhausted mother, all of whom clearly needed shelter and medical attention.

Global News reports that "the puppies and their mom, plus the abandoned dog, now aptly named Hero, are all safe and sound in a foster home." Link to video: http://dfw.cbslocal.com/video?autoSt...lipId=11231024


Another thread on this story with great photos: http://petoftheday.com/talk/showthre...-Huge-Surprise

[cassiesmom]

Fun use of foreign pocket change to aid a charity (from Good News Network)

Ever step off a plane and realize you have a pocket full of foreign change?

The Swedish Red Cross and airport operator, Swedavia, have come up with an idea to take care of those spare coins while supporting a good cause — and letting travelers have a little fun while waiting for buses or baggage.

They’ve turned the vintage arcade games, Ms. Pac-Man, Space Invaders and Galaga, into donation boxes at two airports, Stockholm Arlanda and Göteborg Landvetter. Visitors waiting at baggage claim areas can use their spare quarters and euros to set a new high score. People waiting for a flight can try to top that score while getting rid of unspent krona.

You can use whatever coins you have and every cent, euro, or yen goes straight to the Swedish Red Cross, which had traditional donation boxes in the airports for years.

Red Cross spokesman Morgan Olofsson told Euronews the idea of adding retro arcade games to the mix is “a fun new way to also reward people who make a donation – a win-win, so to speak.”

Well, “win-win” until someone beats your high score.

[kuhio98]

Police Officer Helps Determined Runner Finish Her Race, Instantly Becomes a Viral Hero

Asia Ford finished the Rodes City Run in Louisville, Kentucky, in last place, but to her it's one of her biggest wins.

Ford set out on the 10K with one goal in mind, to complete the race no matter what, reports WHAS 11. After struggling with her weight for years, the mom has been making a concerted effort to shed pounds.

Her weight loss journey was kickstarted after her husband lost a limb to diabetes and she began to worry about what her kids would do if her health started to fail.

"That is when I woke up and I couldn't allow them to be on this earth without my help and the only way I would be able to help them is if I helped myself first," she said.

This determination led Ford – who at her heaviest was 474 lbs., to change her diet, join a exercise boot camp with friends and start training for the Rodes City Run.

After months of working out, Ford arrived at the 10K's start line on Saturday morning 25 lbs. lighter and ready race. She powered through the over six mile course, until reaching mile four, when she started to have trouble breathing. At that point, a car pulled up alongside her.

"I'm not going to let her quit, so I got out and she immediately grabbed my hand," Lt. Aubrey Gregory said.

Seeing that Ford was in need of help, Lt. Gregory stopped his car and offered to drive Ford to the finish line.

"He asked me if I wanted to stop and I was like, 'No,' we have two more miles to go," Ford said.

So the officer joined in, walking hand-in-hand with Ford and her son for the rest of the race. The trio completed the remaining two miles together, sharing stories as they moved towards the finish line.

As they made the final steps, the crowd congregated at the end of the race burst in to cheers.

"Your heart starts to fill up, you get those goose bumps and tingles all over your body," Lt. Gregory said. "When I watched her approach and I started to hear people scream and I let her go right there before the end and to see her raise her hands, there aren't words to express the way I felt seeing her be successful."

The moment not only touched Ford and Lt. Gregory, but thousands of others who heard their story.

Inspired by this touching moment, Louisville Mayor Greg Fischer posted two shots of the pair crossing the finish line on his Facebook, these photos have now been shared over 3,000 times.

Lt. Gregory's simple act of kindness and support moved Ford most of all. After completing the race, she posted a special message about the police officer on her Facebook along with thanks to the countless people who have reached out to her after hearing about her uplifting finish.

"It was really a special moment," Ford said of her interaction with Lt. Gregory.

[Karen]

What a wonderful story, and both the officer and the runner will remember this day forever!

[Taz_Zoee]

I don't know if it's a typo on the article posted above, but she lost 217 pounds before participating in the marathon. It says 25 above.

[kuhio98]

I don't know if it's a typo on the article posted above, but she lost 217 pounds before participating in the marathon. It says 25 above.

Fantastic! Good to know. I copied it from here: http://www.people.com/article/police...an-finish-race So, that's where the 25 came from.

[kuhio98]

The Smile Sent from Heaven
A grieving mother is comforted by a photograph she never knew existed.
by Lorraine Standish

That smile. If only I could see that smile again...

The colorless walls of the hospital waiting room closed in on me as I watched the minute hand creep around the clock. Three hours down. Two more to go. Oh Lord, this is torture, I thought.

I leaned forward on the stiff couch in the corner of the room and leafed through the dog-eared, coffee-stained magazines that littered a table. Desperate for a distraction. Anything to take my mind off my husband, Myles, undergoing his third heart surgery in less than two years.

But it wasn’t just Myles. Another loved one haunted my thoughts. I flashed back to the day six years ago when our daughter Linda’s life came to a tragic, inevitable end.

I had been in a hospital just like this one. Those same suffocating beige walls closing in on me. The soulless beeping of the heart monitors in the ICU. And Linda lying there helpless, a swelling the size of a tennis ball on the back of her head. Clumps of dried blood still clinging to her scalp.

The official cause of death was head trauma, but Myles and I knew the truth. She had passed out and fallen down the stairs, drunk before breakfast.

If I closed my eyes, if I pushed my memory, I could still see Linda as a happy girl. She had a smile that could make the grumpiest person smile too, like the sun bursting through the clouds. It was hard to pinpoint exactly when that smile began to disappear.

Linda started drinking in high school, maybe to fit in, maybe out of boredom or insecurity, maybe because of me and my history. I’d never know. She dropped out of college and went to rehab. One year later, she was carrying a thermos of vodka to work, “just in case.” No recovery program—not even some time in prison—was enough to divert her from that dark, descending path she was on.

If anyone could understand where that path led, it was me. I knew those depths all too well. I’d been sober since Linda was a baby, but I’d never hid my alcoholism from her. I told her what it was like and how I’d struggled until she was born. She’d even gone to AA meetings with me.

But my salvation was not hers. The program just didn’t take. By age 40, Linda’s liver was failing, and I’d stopped keeping count of the number of blood transfusions she’d had, the number of detoxes and rehabs.

“Mama, I’m gonna get clean,” Linda promised me a year before she died. “You wait and see. I’m going to be happy again.”

I hugged her tight. “Okay, baby girl,” I whispered, wishing I could believe her, wishing I could give her the desire to stop drinking.

The call I’d long dreaded finally came. Linda was in a coma. “There’s too much alcohol in her system,” the doctor said. “We couldn’t operate even if it would help....”

My beautiful, troubled daughter. Gone forever at age 45.

I stood up from the waiting-room couch and began pacing, as if I could walk away from my memories. I twisted my hands together, wringing them. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a smaller room connected to the waiting area.

I wandered toward it and found myself in a cramped, stuffy nook with even more magazines. One stood out. It practically shone—a bright yellow cover featuring lemon pie, my favorite dessert. “Spring Is Coming,” the headline proclaimed, though sunny days were months away.

I took a closer look. An issue of Southern Living magazine from five years before. But it looked brand-new! No creases, no stains, no wear at all, apparently.

It was so strangely well preserved that I couldn’t resist flipping through, pausing now and again to peruse a recipe. I found an article about Foley, Alabama, a city close to where Linda once lived.

All at once time stopped; the waiting room walls receded. It was just me and the magazine in my hands. I stared at an unmistakable image. There, on page 32, in one of the photos from around town, was a young woman, beaming as if lit from within.

That smile. Those eyes, so full of life. Of love. Linda. She looked happy. Joyous. Free from the pain that clouded her life. I held the magazine to my chest, dazed, yet comforted.

Myles got through his surgery just fine. I contacted Southern Living. They had never gotten Linda’s name. They weren’t sure when the photo was taken, or what the circumstances were. They couldn’t explain how a mint copy would show up after six years in a hospital waiting room.

They did, however, send me a copy of the photograph. Every time I look at it, I take it as a reminder of the healing that awaits us all.