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As you stumble through the door slurring all your words, you...

Fri, 24 May 2013 09:13:00 -0400

As you stumble through the door slurring all your words, you cry. Cry about how life is hard. Meaningless. Directionless. How all your efforts are futile and useless. As you tell me all this I feel my heart breaking and wanting to reach out but I cannot, because I cannot relate. We were both born the same way. Raised nearly the same way and yet, where we ended up 20 something years since has varied drastically. And here I am wondering- How greatly do your parents play a role in your success? Can people really bear fruit from nothing? There are people who grew up in the ghettos yet they succeeded, but there are also so many who do not. What differentiates those who do and do not? How talented must one be? Or does talent play no part in this equation to monetary copiousness?

Or maybe I’m focusing on the wrong questions…. Maybe the real question is, what is the true definition to “success”?

Photo

Thu, 04 Apr 2013 20:18:54 -0400

WHY DOGS LIVE LESS THAN HUMAN ? ANSWER OF A 6 YEAR...

Thu, 04 Apr 2013 14:03:26 -0400

WHY DOGS LIVE LESS THAN HUMAN ? ANSWER OF A 6 YEAR OLD

Being a veterinarian, I had been called to examine a ten-year-old Irish Wolfhound named Belker. The dog’s owners, Ron, his wife Lisa, and their little boy Shane, were all very attached to Belker, and they were hoping for a miracle.

I examined Belker and found he was dying of cancer. I told the family we couldn’t do anything for Belker, and offered to perform the euthanasia procedure for the old dog in their home.

As we made arrangements, Ron and Lisa told me they thought it would be good for six-year-old Shane to observe the procedure. They felt as though Shane might learn something from the experience.

The next day, I felt the familiar catch in my throat as Belker ‘s family surrounded him. Shane seemed so calm, petting the old dog for the last time, that I wondered if he understood what was going on. Within a few minutes, Belker slipped peacefully away.

The little boy seemed to accept Belker’s transition without any difficulty or confusion. We sat together for a while after Belker’s Death, wondering aloud about the sad fact that animal lives are shorter than human lives.
Shane, who had been listening quietly, piped up, ”I know why.”

Startled, we all turned to him. What came out of his mouth next stunned me. I’d never heard a more comforting explanation. It has changed the way I try and live.

He said,”People are born so that they can learn how to live a good life — like loving everybody all the time and being nice, right?” The Six-year-old continued,

”Well, dogs already know how to do that, so they don’t have to stay as long.”

Live simply.

Love generously.

Care deeply.

Speak kindly.

Remember, if a dog was the teacher you would learn things like:

When loved ones come home, always run to greet them.

Never pass up the opportunity to go for a joyride.

Allow the experience of fresh air and the wind in your face to be pure Ecstasy.

Take naps.

Stretch before rising.

Run, romp, and play daily.

Thrive on attention and let people touch you.

Avoid biting when a simple growl will do.

On warm days, stop to lie on your back on the grass.

On hot days, drink lots of water and lie under a shady tree.

When you’re happy, dance around and wag your entire body.

Delight in the simple joy of a long walk.

Be loyal.

Never pretend to be something you’re not.

If what you want lies buried, dig until you find it.

When someone is having a bad day, be silent, sit close by, and nuzzle them gently.

ENJOY EVERY MOMENT OF EVERY DAY!

Author : Unknown

i miss this….

Sat, 15 Dec 2012 00:31:04 -0500

i miss this….

me everyday

Sat, 06 Oct 2012 11:58:55 -0400

me everyday

wellisnthatnice: white Spider by Daviel Stosca on Flickr.

Fri, 05 Oct 2012 19:15:50 -0400

wellisnthatnice:

white Spider by Daviel Stosca on Flickr.

black-and-white: Great Meadow and Lily Pads (by Nate Parker...

Tue, 03 Jul 2012 18:58:29 -0400

black-and-white:

Great Meadow and Lily Pads (by Nate Parker Photography)

1000scientists: Barcelona via Quentin De Briey’s Diary

Tue, 03 Jul 2012 18:58:16 -0400

1000scientists:

Barcelona via Quentin De Briey’s Diary

by Ekaterina Grigorieva

Fri, 15 Jun 2012 19:02:39 -0400

by Ekaterina Grigorieva

black-and-white: ~ (by Lo766)

Sat, 09 Jun 2012 15:23:27 -0400

black-and-white:

~ (by Lo766)

tripudios: Adde Adesokan

Sun, 03 Jun 2012 01:41:14 -0400

tripudios:

Adde Adesokan

black-and-white: cherry trees and hodgepodge (by manyfires)

Mon, 07 May 2012 14:17:25 -0400

black-and-white:

cherry trees and hodgepodge (by manyfires)

black-and-white: (by rheb1026)

Wed, 02 May 2012 15:19:42 -0400

black-and-white:

(by rheb1026)

black-and-white: barby#4 (by zanetmattia)

Tue, 01 May 2012 23:11:53 -0400

black-and-white:

barby#4 (by zanetmattia)

Video

Mon, 30 Apr 2012 23:08:54 -0400

They told me the big black Lab’s name was Reggie, as I looked...

Mon, 30 Apr 2012 20:06:07 -0400

They told me the big black Lab’s name was Reggie, as I looked at him lying in his pen. The shelter was clean, no-kill, and the people really friendly. I’d only been in the area for six months, but everywhere I went in the small college town, people were welcoming and open. Everyone waves when you pass them on the street.

But something was still missing as I attempted to settle in to my new life here, and I thought a dog couldn’t hurt. Give me someone to talk to. And I had just seen Reggie’s advertisement on the local news. The shelter said they had received numerous calls right after, but they said the people who had come down to see him just didn’t look like “Lab people,” whatever that meant. They must’ve thought I did.

But at first, I thought the shelter had misjudged me in giving me Reggie and his things, which consisted of a dog pad, bag of toys almost all of which were brand new tennis balls, his dishes and a sealed letter from his previous owner.

See, Reggie and I didn’t really hit it off when we got home. We struggled for two weeks (which is how long the shelter told me to give him to adjust to his new home). Maybe it was the fact that I was trying to adjust, too.
Maybe we were too much alike.

I saw the sealed envelope. I had completely forgotten about that. “Okay, Reggie,” I said out loud, “let’s see if your previous owner has any advice.”
____________ _________ _________ _________

To Whomever Gets My Dog:

Well, I can’t say that I’m happy you’re reading this, a letter I told the shelter could only be opened by Reggie’s new owner. I’m not even happy writing it. He knew something was different.

So let me tell you about my Lab in the hopes that it will help you bond with him and he with you.

First, he loves tennis balls. The more the merrier. Sometimes I think he’s part squirrel, the way he hoards them. He usually always has two in his mouth, and he tries to get a third in there. Hasn’t done it yet. Doesn’t
matter where you throw them, he’ll bound after them, so be careful. Don’t do it by any roads.

Next, commands. Reggie knows the obvious ones —-“sit,” “stay,” “come,” “heel.”

He knows hand signals, too: He knows “ball” and “food” and “bone” and “treat” like nobody’s business.

Feeding schedule: twice a day, regular store-bought stuff; the shelter has the brand.

He’s up on his shots. Be forewarned: Reggie hates the vet. Good luck getting him in the car. I don’t know how he knows when it’s time to go to the vet, but he knows.

Finally, give him some time. It’s only been Reggie and me for his whole life. He’s gone everywhere with me, so please include him on your daily car rides if you can. He sits well in the backseat, and he doesn’t bark or complain. He just loves to be around people, and me most especially.

And that’s why I need to share one more bit of info with you…His name’s not Reggie. He’s a smart dog, he’ll get used to it and will respond to it, of that I have no doubt. But I just couldn’t bear to give them his real name. But if someone is reading this … well it means that his new owner should know his real name. His real name is “Tank.” Because, that is what I drive.

I told the shelter that they couldn’t make “Reggie” available for adoption until they received word from my company commander. You see, my parents are gone, I have no siblings, no one I could’ve left Tank with .. and it was my only real request of the Army upon my deployment to Iraq, that they make one phone call to the shelter … in the “event” … to tell them that Tank could be put up for adoption. Luckily, my CO is a dog-guy, too, and he knew where my platoon was headed. He said he’d do it personally. And if you’re reading this, then he made good on his word.

Tank has been my family for the last six years, almost as long as the Army has been my family. And now I hope and pray that you make him part of your family, too, and that he will adjust and come to love you the same way he
loved me.

If I have to give up Tank to keep those terrible people from coming to the US I am glad to have done so. He is my example of service and of love. I hope I honored him by my service to my country and comrades.

All right, that’s enough. I deploy this evening and have to drop this letter off at the shelter. Maybe I’ll peek in on him and see if he finally got that third tennis ball in his mouth.

Good luck with Tank. Give him a good home, and give him an extra kiss goodnight - every night - from me.

Thank you,

Paul Mallory
____________ _________ _________ _______

I folded the letter and slipped it back in the envelope. Sure, I had heard of Paul Mallory, everyone in town knew him, even new people like me. Local kid, killed in Iraq a few months ago and posthumously earning the Silver
Star when he gave his life to save three buddies. Flags had been at half-mast all summer.

I leaned forward in my chair and rested my elbows on my knees, staring at the dog.

“Hey, Tank,” I said quietly.

The dog’s head whipped up, his ears cocked and his eyes bright.

“C’mere boy.”

He was instantly on his feet, his nails clicking on the hardwood floor. He sat in front of me, his head tilted, searching for the name he hadn’t heard in months. “Tank,” I whispered.

His tail swished.

I kept whispering his name, over and over, and each time, his ears lowered, his eyes softened, and his posture relaxed as a wave of contentment just seemed to flood him. I stroked his ears, rubbed his shoulders, buried my
face into his scruff and hugged him.

“It’s me now, Tank, just you and me. Your old pal gave you to me.” Tank reached up and licked my cheek.

“So whatdaya say we play some ball?” His ears perked again.

“Yeah? Ball? You like that? Ball?”

Tank tore from my hands and disappeared into the next room. And when he came back, he had three tennis balls in his mouth.”

1000scientists: Lui H.

Sun, 29 Apr 2012 17:44:37 -0400

1000scientists:

Lui H.

Photo

Fri, 27 Apr 2012 23:50:33 -0400

black-and-white: (by Enchanted.Photography)

Wed, 25 Apr 2012 02:42:26 -0400

black-and-white:

(by Enchanted.Photography)

wellisnthatnice: Jet by Luke Alexander Gilbertson on...

Wed, 25 Apr 2012 02:42:13 -0400

wellisnthatnice:

Jet by Luke Alexander Gilbertson on Flickr.

with the way I drive…… the bottom of this car will probably be so messed up…. regardless. yo quiero