I love animals, but I have a special place in my heart for dogs. My dogs were a big part of my family life whether at home growing up, or when living on my own. Dogs have their own unique, loving ways to let us know that in times of crisis, in times of celebration, and in times of daily life we are not alone. A wag of a tail, a lick, and a hug are some of the not too subtle ways dogs express their love. Each day my dogs tell me, “I adore you!”
The dog’s brain whirs with the assault of heightened olfactory, visual, and auditory impressions. The dog thinks, “This is a dog I’ve never met before,” or “That woman carries treats in her pocket and gives me one if my human stops to talk with her,” or “This is where I last peed.” or “A siren is coming, or “Usually we cross over there.” The more you take your dog on walks, take him to nursing homes, and visit children, you will see that we two species, human and animal, have much in common yet complement each other by experiencing life in vastly different ways.
Last fall, Grace and I went to a local nursing home to randomly visit patients. A social worker asked me if Grace would visit a lovely lady, Ruby, who has been non-responsive for four days. The social worker said the nurses think she only has a few days to live. We silently walked over to Ruby’s bed, and with the nurse’s permission, lifted my pup up onto the bed.
Ruby didn’t make a sound. I reached under the covers and placed Ruby’s hand on Grace’s soft fur and then… Ruby’s eyes popped wide open and with the biggest smile she shouted, “Hey! Hey!” Then she went back to being non-responsive.
The nurse and the volunteer just looked at me and wondered if we really saw what we saw. So, I moved Ruby’s hand to Grace’s chest and… you guessed it, eyes open and “Hey! Hey!” The thing is, Ruby wasn’t seeing three women and a dog. We believed she was seeing something beautiful, heavenly, happy. The joy and light in her eyes encapsulated the most awesome spiritual encounter we had ever witnessed.
Grace and we three women stayed with Ruby for another twenty minutes and delighted in watching Ruby and Grace connect over, and over again. I lifted Grace off the bed and put Ruby’s hand back under the covers. Then we left for home. I giggled. Grace barked and talked.
At home, Grace and I just snuggled quietly and thanked God for this day.
Early the next morning Ruby’s social worker called and said Ruby peacefully died about 1:00 this morning.
I tell you this story to remind you to open your heart so you can recognize and receive blessings–especially if they arrive accompanied by a bark.
Blessings,
Dianne Hammontree,
secretary of Homeward Bound, Inc
“Oh, how I longed to introduce Joseph to my friend John,” I reminisce. With John residing in a pet-friendly apartment, the opportunity for a puppy rendezvous presented itself, and off we ventured. Joseph, intuitively sensing his new companion, wasted no time in making himself at home. He gracefully maneuvered onto John’s substantial wheelchair, showered him with affectionate licks, and nestled snugly into his lap for a serene morning nap.
Our adventures didn’t end there. Eager to spread joy beyond our circle, we decided to pay a visit to a local nursing home. Maneuvering through the labyrinthine hallways, replete with wheelchairs and stretchers bearing the weight of elderly and infirm residents, felt like navigating a challenging obstacle course. Adjusting Joseph’s leash, we commenced our journey down the corridor. Suddenly, a clamor erupted, “A dog! A dog!” In an instant, we found ourselves encircled by wheelchair-bound patients, each eager to make the acquaintance of Joseph.
Squatting down, I enveloped Joseph in a protective embrace. He leaned into me reassuringly as a young man, his eyes gleaming with excitement, hastened toward us. With an awkward yet endearing gesture, he extended his hand to tenderly pat Joseph, erupting into fits of joyous laughter. Soon after, an elderly lady approached, her eyes brimming with nostalgia. “May I pet him too?” she inquired softly. Joseph, ever the gentle soul, obliged, eliciting fond memories from the lady. “He’s so soft,” she mused, “I once had a dog named Joy.”
As Joseph continued his rounds, more residents joined in, each sharing their own tales and laughter. With each interaction, Joseph’s demeanor seemed to elevate, his spirits soaring as he pranced about, his head held high, basking in the adoration he received.
Upon our departure, a profound sense of contentment enveloped us. I made a silent vow to return and witness those radiant smiles more often, reflecting on the invaluable lesson my furry companion had imparted. Back home, Joseph retreated to his bed, his weary yet satisfied frame a testament to the joy he had spread. What a remarkable companion he was! I couldn’t help but wonder who we would encounter on our next excursion.
Blessings,
Dianne Hammontree
Secretary of Homeward Bound, Inc.
Twenty years ago, Ken and I took a walk in Ashland through the Seminary quad. As we came upon one of the oldest buildings, Ken spotted a piano in the window and asked, “Do you think anyone would mind if I stopped in to play a moment?” The building was lit and had a few students roaming about so in we went.
Ken sat down to play the most beautiful song—Autumn Leaves.
I sat beside him on the bench and began to cry. “What’s wrong?” he asked. I told him it took me two years to learn this very song on the piano so I could play it for my dad on Christmas morning.
Most people believe you cannot love someone you don’t even know. I didn’t know Ken emotionally or physically, yet I knew him. We had an attachment that was much more than a romantic feeling. It was not temporary or selfish in nature. We did not fall in love. Our love was definitely orchestrated by God. We developed a deep appreciation and admiration for each other, an awareness of each other’s needs, strengths, and character. We began to experience true love, one that could grow for our lifetime.
God wants to give us miracles because every miracle is a testimony of how much He loves us. I thank God for His gift of love and for the music of Autumn Leaves.
Blessings,
Dianne Hammontree,
secretary of Homeward Bound, Inc.
My dog Jesse and I were excited to begin her direct-patient care service as a brand-new Hospice volunteer. To prepare for her first patient, I gave Jesse a bath with cherry vanilla shampoo, gave her a good brushing and placed her identification necklace and red bandana around her neck. We proudly walked to the nursing home and located the correct room. When I saw the gentleman’s name on the door, my heart stopped beating.
Don, the meanest man in the world, was Jesse’s first Hospice patient.
About two months earlier, Don came to look at one of my remodeled houses with his daughter. His daughter loved the house and wanted to sign the paperwork to purchase it. Don began verbally ripping my house apart, inch by inch, electrical, plumbing, paint, carpentry, etc., etc., etc. He not only insulted my hard work but attacked my character as well.
I was too dumbfounded by his evil and abusive words to reply or to stand up for myself. By the time Don and his daughter left my spirit was crushed to the floor. Regardless of his disgusting attitude, Jesse and I met our weekly obligations with Don for months.
Usually, Hospice is responsible for a patient deemed terminal for a six-month period then staff and volunteers are called off. After six months, Don was still alive and stable. We continued our weekly visits anyway.
One afternoon, I received an emergency phone call from Don’s nursing home. “Please bring Jesse—quick!” the nurse said. “Your patient is hysterical and violent. We have tried everything to calm him down, but nothing is working. BRING JESSE NOW!”
Jesse and I entered the room to find Don totally out of control. His sweet little wife couldn’t calm him down without getting hurt. Even though he was older and weak, he could send even a large person flying across the room with his thrashing arms and legs.
Jesse slowly walked over to Don’s bed and waited. His wild eyes spotted her, and he waited. She laid her head on his bed. Ever so slowly he came back to reality without hurting Jesse. As he petted her soft fur, he talked and talked.
He had just realized that he was going to die and did not know where he was going, heaven or hell. Don had spent years ignoring God, feeling lonely to the core, feeling unsafe and unprotected. Life was such a frighting place because he thought we were all just thrown out there with no purpose, no plan, no direction, and no help.
Little by little, with great trepidation and embarrassment, he began to entertain the possibility of God’s existence. He was amazed to find out that even after all this time of pushing God away, God had never left him. All he had to do was open his eyes and ears and heart.
Don died shortly after this amazing journey, and Jesse and I felt privileged to have had the pleasure of knowing the ‘meanest man’ as our friend.
Blessings,
Dianne Hammontree,
secretary of Homeward Bound, Inc.
Find your passion—what is the strong energy or emotion that completes you? Of course, my faith, family, art, and service have always been in the forefront of my life. But, at age 65, I hungered for more. With the encouragement of my husband and family, I enrolled in the National K-9 School for Dog Trainers in Columbus. My soul sparked to life!
In February, Mike, my sister’s seven-month-old English Shepherd, and I set off for six weeks of intense training. God had placed a passion in my heart for a greater purpose—to help puppy owners enjoy their canine companions and to teach them how to share their pups with children, hurting people, and special adults.
I was thankful for this incredible and grueling opportunity, but as the day of departure arrived, I was paralyzed from the eyeballs down. My mind kept asking, “Am I good enough to do this?” Realizing that the journey was just as important as the destination, I lived happily in a very small dorm room for the first time in my life, and after six weeks Mike and I graduated.
I was the second oldest student to graduate from the K-9 school in its fifty years of existence! For the past ten years, many folks have allowed me to be part of their lives and multitudes of dogs have taught me valuable lessons about loyalty, confidence and joy.
There was Joy who spent every Thursday in the Alzheimer’s unit at Good Shepherd nursing home accompanied by my daughter Julie.
There was Jesse and her favorite Hospice patient, Don, who stroked her velvety ears and cried because he didn’t know where he was going after he died.
There was Jeff who gave big, sloppy kisses to every human he met.
There was Simon Peter who lay beside his beloved Hospice patient, Carrie, as she slipped away from this world.
There was Mary Magdalene who comforted every single person she met and patiently sat on the laps of abused children as they testified in court.
There was Mike, who was trained in basic obedience, advanced obedience, advanced utility, soft mouth retrieval, drug detection, and tracking and trailing.
There are new seasons of opportunity and personal growth around the bend. Good things come from changes and changes bring more people and more dogs into my life. C.S. Lewis once said, “Isn’t it funny how day by day nothing changes, but when you look back, everything is different.” Different can be good. Find your passion and go for it!
Happy New Year!
Blessings,
Dianne Hammontree, 302 Center Street
Hammontreegracejoy@gmail.com
Joe Lyons •
April 6, 2024