You don’t need to be a hero anymore

You were always my hero. I was a scrawny child. You were raised on a farm and grew up big and strong. I always imagined you were the strongest dad. I was short; I wanted to be tall like you. I needed a hero to look up to.

When I was little, I watched Sheriff John on TV. You were a deputy sheriff. You were a real life Sheriff John. I used to brag to other kids that my dad was a deputy sheriff.

Instead of beating up on the bad guys, you chose to teach schoolchildren how to be safe on their bicycles. Over all those years, you showed a lot of children the side of police work that they maybe never saw elsewhere. I suppose you were a hero to some of them too.

After 15 years of teaching the kids, you decided to be one who took care of deputies who were injured and the families of those who died. Sometimes you had to be the bearer of sad news. I don’t know how you did that. I’m sure there were many grateful families for the help you gave them in their time of need.

I remember one winter day you asked me to go with you to visit a deputy who lived in Wrightwood and was dying of cancer. You said it was not to see the snow, but because you did not want to do it alone. It was difficult work that you did.

Eventually I grew tall – taller than you – but never strong like you. But you and Mom always encouraged me to pursue my strengths.

You were always proud of my accomplishments, even when they fell short of what I would have liked. I was amazed and honored that you even looked to me for advice, when I was still a teen.

When I had grown up, I guess I didn’t think I needed heroes. I was pretty self-sufficient. You had taught me how to fix just about anything. And I had learned much more as well.

After you retired from the Sheriff’s Department, you went back to farming, although of a much different kind. You befriended many in your community (you have always been a much more social person than I am).

But you had great loss when an entire family that you had become close to was killed in a car accident. You became best friends with the husband’s parents. I’m sure you were a great comfort to them after their loss.

It was after Mom began to lose her memory through dementia that I really saw the hero in you. As she declined, you cared for her. You never complained. You said she had given you so many years, and this was the right thing to do. You were her hero, even if she didn’t acknowledge it. You became our hero too, as we saw all the difficulties you withstood.

In the last couple of years, you have had your own difficulties. Your health declined; you were diagnosed with Parkinson’s disease. But I don’t remember you complaining. Even when you have lost all your strength, you don’t complain of pain or things you can’t do.

You have gained new friendships among those who care for you. They have seen you through this most difficult time in your life, and how you have held up through it.

In the Bible it says, “Train up a child in the way he should go, and when he is old, he will not depart from it.” You have done so for all of us. And you have done well. I don’t think I ever have been or ever will be as good a dad as you are.

You have grandchildren who adore you and great-grandchildren who are just starting out. What you taught us will carry on to them.

You probably don’t think of yourself as a hero now. You don’t need to be a hero anymore; you already are.

I love you Dad.

Shaggy and Emily

A Story of Love and Jealosy

Shaggy coveted Kathy’s lap. One day Gus was occupying her spot. She glowered jealously. From that day on, she tormented him.

Shaggy growled fiercely whenever the dog came near her food. Tiny, but powerful – she was but a kitten.

Emily had picked her from the litter of Lucy, who belonged to the teacher across the street. (Emily had been in her class part of one year.)

That was about May of 2000 as Emily recalls. Emily was in fifth grade.

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Shaggy and Lucy

Lucy spent more time at our house than at her owner’s. This benefited Shaggy, who would nurse from her mother long after the other kittens had been given away.

Shaggy shared her life with her mother and the two other cats that called our house theirs.

That is, until Lucy was killed by the Pit Bull from around the corner up the street. Lucy is buried in our front yard.

Shaggy coveted Kathy’s lap. One day Gus was occupying her spot. She glowered jealously. From that day on, she tormented him.

Shaggy always got along with Fang (really Pumpkin) the big male cat. She hated Gus, the piano player, who was always sickly – or maybe she just enjoyed having power over him.

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Emily and George

Later George arrived, and found acceptance by her. Laurel’s Gus was the only hated one.

Shaggy’s greatest enjoyment was being allowed to go out on the front step to roll on the warm concrete. A minute or two and she came back in; she was not a wanderer.

Fang always wandered, and would keep finding new places to hide when I went to bring him in at night. He died at home while Emily was graduating from High School.

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George and Shaggy

Gus died; Laurel cried. I don’t remember when, in the order of things.

Emily moved out after she got her teaching job, and took George with her. She had picked Shaggy, but Shaggy had picked Kathy as her person.

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Tiger Lily

George was replaced at our house by Tiger Lily. Tiger Lily was to be Sophie’s cat at her grandparents’ house. But she chose me as her person.

Shaggy was jealous of the attention that Tiger Lily got and would fight with her. Eventually she became confined in the upstairs Master Bedroom. Life was smaller there, but she could occasionally go out on the balcony to roll.

Shaggy was not bothered by water like many cats. She liked to play with the water if it was dripping from the bathtub faucet. Sometimes she would sit by the faucet waiting for drips that were not to come. She preferred water from the tub or sink faucets over that in a bowl.

Shaggy had a regular nighttime routine. She liked to lie on Kathy. I was her second favorite after Kathy, but eventually she figured out that I didn’t move around as much. Lately, she would start by Kathy’s head, then move to lying on me, and by morning was at the corner of the bed by my feet.

We had a scare a couple of years ago when Shaggy stopped eating. The problem was digestive and the vet sorted it out. We switched her from dry food to canned food. Once she got meaty-treaty, she never took another bite of her dry food.

Shaggy would complain that she was starving; no one ever fed her. She drank more water than any other cat I had known. But she continued to thrive, or so it seemed.

Slowly she lost weight, as old cats often do. She still jumped up on the counter and wanted water from the faucet.

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Shaggy

Shaggy stopped eating. I took her to the vet hoping it was a similar problem as before. I brought her home and waited for the results of tests.

It was not the same as before. The excessive water drinking could have been a clue, had we known. We took her to the vet one last time.

Emily has been teaching now for 7 1/2 years. Shaggy is buried in our front yard close to her mother and to her favorite rolley-rolley spot.