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A Dog Called Patch

Patch

Feature Photo By Mitchell Orr Upsplash.com

A Dog Called Patch

Taken from a true story.

Our Patch was a unique breed of dog. I’m not entirely sure which of about fourteen species he best fitted, so I think I’d best describe him as a little of each.

Our Patch was genial, gregarious, outgoing, and highly sociable. As his name implied, he also had Joseph’s coat of many colors. He was short-haired and of medium height, with one ear raised up and the other flopped down.

We had found Patch at an animal rescue center, and our boys fell in love with him. (I felt it was because of how he cocked his head when they spoke to him.)

Patch had unlimited energy, and my husband and I felt that our quarter-acre property would give him enough space. Our garden was surrounded on three sides by a six-foot wall and a solid hedge in front.

We had not bargained that Patch had a very naughty side to his nature, which came as a surprise. My husband and I were at work each day and our teenage sons were off to school, this resulted in Patch having a fair time on his own.

A day or two after joining our family, we heard Patch barking and someone screaming. We all left the breakfast table, rushing outside to see what was causing the raucous. Well, if it weren’t for the severity of the situation, I would have laughed until my sides ached at what I saw. There was our Milkman on the roof of his cart screaming for help! Patch was not in the least bit concerned as he was busy lapping up milk from broken milk bottles that crashed to the ground as the Milkman made a hasty retreat to his cart.

While I consoled the Milkman, our boys took Patch indoors. A neighbor casually mentioned to my husband that he saw Patch sitting on top of the wall each day. We could not believe that Patch could climb the wall. One day, the two of us watched him skirt up and sit on top of the wall. From that post, he had a birds-eye view of the goings-on in the neighborhood.

The best was yet to come. While walking out the gate, on my way to the bus stop one morning, Patch tried to follow me. I shooed him back into the yard. As my bus arrived, there was Patch, head cocked and tail wagging happily. He tried to follow me onto the bus. Once more, I chased him off and sat down, relieved. Now the bus driver began hooting furiously. I stood up to see what was happening. There was Patch, sitting in front of the bus, refusing to move. “Lady, you will have to get off the bus and take your dog home, please,” the driver was furious.

For about a week, all was calm with Patch, and I was hoping he had turned over a new leaf. No more chasing the Milkman, no more lying down in front of the bus.

But wait, better is yet to come. One Friday evening, as I returned home from work, I noticed a piece of clothing on the front lawn. Picking it up, I was shocked; it was a pair of black lace nickers! I was horrified, suspecting the worst of my sons.

I spoke to my husband about my find, and we agreed to have a stern talking to our two boys after supper.

We called them in and pointed to the pair of nickers on the coffee table. “What’s this all about then?” My husband asked, pointing to the underwear. My eldest stated, “Nothing to do with me, Dad.” The younger made a similar response.

“Right then, lads, since you have nothing better to say, you are gated until I get the truth.” The boys, with shoulders hung, were followed by Patch, tail between legs, left the room.

The next day, as I was cleaning the lounge, something caught my eye. It was Patch jumping down the wall from our neighbor’s side. He strutted across the lawn, proud as punch, with a pair of nickers in his mouth. I ran out front shouting at him. He darted around the back, like lightning, through the kitchen, upstairs to the bedrooms, and made his way under our eldest’s bed.

We all stood around the bed as the boys tried to persuade Patch to come out. We moved the bed finally. “Look at this, Mum,” our younger exclaimed.

Under the bed, was a collection of nickers and bra’s, with Patch standing protectively over them.

“Looks like we’ve found the culprit,” my husband offered sheepishly.

If you feel this article has value, please send this link to others. Writings are meant for people, not for dormant files in our computers. Often, when we share them, it results in positive changes in the lives of individuals and communities.

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If you are spiritually inclined see my other site; www.adcrucemchristi.com

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Weekly Words of Wisdom Friends.

Friends

Feature Photo by 🇸🇮 Janko Ferlič Upsplash.com

In recent times, as the topic of friendship has been raised in my company, I have begun to question, in my own mind, what it means to have friends.

I’ll tell you why. Over the very long span of my life, I have had very few friends. By my definition, friends being those people to whom I’m am close, people I love, and make connections regularly. Yet, if I use this definition, I realize that all of these terms apply to my own family members. (I have a very large family and extended family members – and it grows by the year!)

With all of this now, it begs the question – what are friends? Over the years I have made many, many acquaintances (I am quite clear on this definition.) None of these, however, would fit the description of ‘friends’ as the generally accepted definition of the word goes. I have often heard the statement, “She/he is not just my wife/husband she/he is also my friend.”

From this, I glean that family members and partners can also be friends. This makes me feel much better now, as far as friends are concerned and certainly broadens the scope for me.

If you feel this article has value, please send this link to others. Writings are meant for people, not for dormant files in our computers. Often, when we share them, it results in positive changes in the lives of individuals and communities.

All rights reserved sirpeterjamesdotcom©2020-01-20

If you are spiritually inclined see my other site; www.adcrucemchristi.com

Please feel free to send in questions (see ‘Contact’) and comments (hit the ‘Comments’ Button.)

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Sylvia Rose’s Story – Chapter Nine

I didn’t come here to be average

Never Give Up 7

I have some fabulous news to share with you. In addition; to chat to you about perseverance and why you should not accept when people say you cannot do it. Yes, you can.

Continue reading Sylvia Rose’s Story – Chapter Nine

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A House Divided against Itself – Part Four

Unity

Life returned to a sense of normality, which after two months was turned completely upside down.

It happened when the husband awoke  at two in the morning to find he was alone in bed. He called out softly to his wife and on getting no response; he got up and made his way through the house and on reaching the lounge he heard soft sounds like crying coming from behind the closed door of the study. He tapped on the door and made his way though. His wife was curled Husband Comfortingup on the big easy chair weeping. He reached down to her small, almost frail body and without a word, his big arms enfolded her and he gently lifted her off the chair and sitting in the chair he moved her onto his lap as he would have done with the smallest of his children.

Continue reading A House Divided against Itself – Part Four

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A House Divided Against Itself

Unity

“A house divided against itself cannot stand.

I believe this government cannot endure permanently, half slave and half free.

I do not expect the Union to be dissolved — I do not expect the house to fall — but I do expect it will cease to be divided”.

 Abraham Lincoln – In his speech to the Senate in June 16, 1858

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Sylvia Rose’s Story – Part Five

Depression AJ 12

Come Forth, my Knight in Shining Armour

 “It’s normal to miss someone when you’re alone and lonely. But missing someone when you’re busy having fun, that’s true affection”

Continue reading Sylvia Rose’s Story – Part Five