Back in 1999 my youngest daughter, Julie, attended Bowling Green State University, and pursued a career in special education. One of her classes required her to teach a class in an inner city setting. She soon became mesmerized by twelve ten-year old African American youngsters in inner city Toledo, Ohio. Well into the school year, Julie called and asked if I could bring my two Golden Retrievers to her classroom for some dog therapy.
The children, I was told, were reserved because of their dysfunctional childhood. They retained scars from early emotional wounds—wounds that may not puncture the skin but punctured the heart. Yet despite their reservations, Julie discovered these children to be playful and giggly. Because they were so street smart, they had learned to survive and be happy regardless of their circumstances.
One breezy, beautiful spring morning Jeff and Jesse climbed into my truck and off we drove to the “mission field.” The windows were down, the flowers permeated the air, the dog’s large ears flapped in the breeze, and we were excited!
Two hours later, we arrived at Julie’s classroom, where she met us in the hallway. Julie had prepared the children for our arrival, but no one could have prepared me for the scene that was about to happen.
As we entered the room, all twelve children screamed at the top of their lungs and plastered themselves against the far wall. The screaming continued, so Julie ushered us out and encouraged us to try again. She explained that the only dogs these children come in contact with, are starving, abused, mean dogs. This time she would keep the children on the far wall. Jesse, Jeff, and I would SLOWLY enter and sit in the middle of the room, and I would quietly say, “Let the children come to me.”
What a wise teacher! One by one they came, cautiously step by step. We talked about the dogs, their gentleness, and about how much they love children. The youngsters came closer. Within fifteen minutes all were snuggled close, enjoying the soft fur and puppy kisses.
All twelve children were now in a safe environment, and they knew it. They all needed healing from their horrendous backgrounds, but only God could take care of that. For now, we cherished the moment.
It amazed me how quickly their personalities changed. Fear vanished and we had a memorable afternoon. When it was time for us to leave, all the children cried and hung on to Jeff and Jesse. They wanted more wet kisses, more safety, and no fear.
God’s sweet affection for these children and for me, taught me not to fear, for a life lived in fear isn’t much fun!
Blessings,
Dianne Hammontree, secretary of Homeward Bound Dog Shelter
This is how my dogs Grace, Joy, and baby Joseph will celebrate Mother’s Day with me.
1. Grace and Joy rise at 4:30 am and give me wet willies in both ears. Joseph awakes wiggles and jiggles in pure delight then pees on the floor.
2. All the pups go outside, and while Grace and Joy do their business in their designated places, Joseph bites the bark on the new little tree we just planted. I tried spraying the tree with Bitter Apple, but I think he likes it. Then he comes in and poops in the kitchen.
3 Grace and Joy immediately play tug of war. I try tug of war with Joseph where you hang on until your teeth fall out. Then I throw the toy and ask Joseph to bring it to me. He grabs it and at a full run slams into me. New game = “Fetch and Slam.”
4. Time for our morning walk at the cemetery. The girls walk happily at my side, while Joseph tries to clean up all of the remains of previous dogs, eats bugs and berries and throws up in the kitchen as soon as I open the door.
5. I take the dogs in the truck to the gas station, bank, post office and a quick grocery pick-up. The girls sit beside me, while Joseph is like a ping-Pong ball in a tiny wind tunnel at hurricane speed in the back seat. At home I open the truck door, the girls jump out and Joseph doesn’t. I leave the truck door open and he’s just where I left him, like if he sits there long enough, I will take him for another ride. I’ve become a doggie chauffeur!
6. After the pups take a seventeen-hour nap we start over with #1
P.S. I understand puppies come with a certain amount of inconvenience, but they are good for the heart. And blood pressure. They make us feel loved, but more, they make sure we know we are needed. They really don’t do well without our care and we don’t do that well without their unconditional love.
Blessings and Happy Mother’s Day,
Dianne Hammontree, secretary of Homeward Bound Dog Shelter.org
Even though my Aunt Abe and Uncle Ken lived two thousand miles away in Oregon, I felt led to spend a week with them every year. Uncle Ken had been valiantly dealing with Parkinson’s disease for twelve years and Aunt Abe, at eighty years old, was his caregiver and was facing cancer surgery.
Aunt Abe said to me, on my second day of this visit, “Tomorrow is my birthday and I want a dog, but Ken says NO.” Well, I marched into Uncle Ken’s den and said, “Tomorrow is your wife’s eightieth birthday, and she wants a dog. Keep in mind, before you answer, that she has devoted her life to you and your three sons and has asked for very little. She cares for all your needs every day of every year—WHAT SAY YE?”
Less than five minutes later, Aunt Abe was in the car with me, and we were headed for the dog shelter. I do believe God placed Bell in this shelter one day earlier, so that when Abe arrived, she would be met with this beautiful animal with kisses and a desire to please.
Back home we found that Bell seldom growled and approached all creatures, from insect to human with interest, affection, and trust. My aunt’s face softened with pleasure and love when she was with her pup. Bell sat with my uncle while he received physical and occupational therapy and was on his lap as he napped in his Lazy Boy chair. Bell knew full well that her most immediate future held dinner, a short hike, playing ball and snuggle time. She whined with tail thumping excitement, as Abe and Ken laughed and wondered what life was like before Bell.
MY WALKING BUDDY, BY ABE NICHOLS
My walking buddy’s name is Bell. She’s quite a cheerful pup.
We leave her house and wave farewell, stroll down the hill…and up.
Enjoying the sights, her, and I, “So much to see!” we say.
White clouds, green trees, and passersby…we bid them all “Good day!”
Close to my side Bell walks with me, sauntering down to end.
Hiking along with smiles and glee, Bell’s the best strolling friend.
At the end is where we stop to pause, our eyes lock, me, and pup.
We know our joy has ended cause— I need Bell to drag me up.
She’s eager to go on our stroll, I think she’s really swell.
Heave ever uphill with a pull, AMAZING pup named Bell.
Bell couldn’t change Ken’s Parkinson’s or make Abe cancer free, yet this one small, essentially free addition to their home changed the atmosphere. Bell couldn’t change their past, but she could rewrite their future.
Blessings,
Dianne Hammontree, Secretary of Homeward Bound Dog Shelter
I’ve seen dogs that come in terrified of the world, but see them change quickly. Rescues are so resilient. They may have been hurt or neglected, but they are ready to trust humans again. Every single one will overcome, although it takes some longer than others.
Whether it’s a specific moment or a gradual process, a dog’s “homecoming” is one of the great joys of rescuing a second-chance dog. You can finally feel like you can count on them to be faithful, to not run away, and to be responsive to you in ways that they are not with others. And they know they can count on you to comfort them when they are scared, to feed them when they are hungry, and to rub their bellies when they want affection. It’s a moment when the dog is no longer a stranger in your midst, but a member of the family.
Thank you for supporting the Homeward Bound Dog Shelter.
Today, I spent some time speaking with Dianne Hammontree, secretary of Homeward Bound Dog Shelter and Ashland County Commissioner, Vice President Denny Bittle about the Dog Shelter and where things stand.
“Things are coming along good, but monies will still have to be raised due to previous donors not fulfilling their pledge,” Denny Bittle commented.
Every Sunday morning, in the summer of 2004, the three of us, two pups and me, with blanket and Bible, would hike to Freer field to search the scriptures and commune with God. The dogs were so excited for our time together; their tails wagged all the way to the field and then they would plop down on the blanket and lay their huge heads on my legs. This was such a happy time. I was totally free to talk to and listen to God. No one was around to betray me, judge me, manipulate me, or humiliate me. This was an unconventional, yet simple time to enjoy my God’s unconditional love.
Many weeks later, I would learn that sitting in a cell behind barred windows, in a nearby detention center was an older teenager who had been expelled from every school system in the County. Little were we aware that we were being observed from those basement windows. Apparently, the boy had been watching our every movement and had intentionally focused on our Sunday ritual. He had begun to understand—to know my heart. He had been watching us on some of the darkest days of my life. H saw how important my dogs were to me, and wondered what I was reading and Who I was talking to.
Even though the sky was a brilliant blue and the birds were happily perched and chattering in the pine trees, I had a gnawing feeling we were being watched. I tried not to worry, to forget about what I didn’t get done yesterday or what I had to accomplish tomorrow. What if at this very moment we were in harm’s way? Breathe. Breathe. I needed to remember that it’s not the number of breaths I take that give me life. It’s then number of moments that take my breath away that matters the most.
I focused on the out-of-doors fragrances, listened to the sounds of summer, watched the white fluffy clouds float by, snuggled with my dogs and prayed. The amazing gift of peace empowered me and the three of us safely napped. Much later, we left the field knowing we would return with blanket and Bible the very next Sunday.
Towards the end of summer, a tall, lanky teenager wandered over to our blanket and asked if he could join us. HE WAS THE ONE– the one who had been watching us through barred windows barely one hundred yards from our blanket.
I shared with him about talking to God, about peace and grace, about my dogs and their unconditional love. I told him happiness is a byproduct and we can control our own state of happiness—that happiness is not a result of our circumstances.
He shared with me that he had been searching the scriptures until he found a special joy that was hard to describe. He had received blessings during his hardships and that we three had left footprints in his heart. Love is a healing thing. No moment for either of us was as memorable as when we were brought together by God’s Word.
Be there in the moment just like my dogs were there for me and just like God was there for this troubled teen.
LEAVE A FOOTPRINT ON SOMEONE’S HEART!
Blessings,
Dianne Hammontree, secretary of Homeward Bound Dog Shelter
Several years have gone by since we lost our two beautiful Golden Retrievers Jeff, and Jesse. The pain has not totally subsided and sometimes I wonder how long it will take for my heart to completely heal.
Jeff, the seven-year-old, was the larger of the two dogs. He was snow white, majestic, and as gentle as a lamb. Jesse was my fifteen-year-old auburn girl. She was loyal and sweet and kind. Both pups were therapy dogs and had earned their Outstanding Therapy Dog Awards for making 338 visits in less than eighteen months. They spent time with nursing home residents, at-risk teens, and children in all twelve grades. They visited inner-city schools, spent many hours with special children and adults, and had been assigned numerous hospice patients. Jeff and Jesse loved us and they also loved as many other humans as they could fit into their day.
One summer, I noticed that Jeff’s abdomen was expanding and thought he might be eating too much dog food. I cut his portions down, yet his girth widened. We made an appointment with the vet. He had a massive tumor. The doctor opened him up and removed an eleven-pound mass from my one hundred pound boy. His incision wouldn’t heal so they opened him up three more times. More cancer.
Jeff died on Tuesday, October 20, at 9:15 a.m. Jesse mourned the loss of her close companion. She lost her hearing completely. She went blind. Her bodily functions ceased.
Jesse died on Tuesday, November 20, at 9:15 a.m. Through my tears, disbelief and stabbing pain, I wondered: Jeff and Jesse—what were you here to teach me that only your deaths could show me?
The answer was that my pups did more living in their seven and fifteen years than most people do in a lifetime. They played. They dashed. They frolicked. They hugged and cuddled and kissed. They were full of joy and loved each moment as though it was their last.
Jeff and Jesse’s lives were gifts to me. Their deaths were also gifts to me. The pups showed me how important it is to slow down, to dance, to look up at the stars, to spend time with family, to talk about God, to share my love and trust.
For me to escape the gravity of despair on my own was an impossible task. God in His great mercy lifted me up on wings like eagles.
Thank you, pups, for showing me what God’s unconditional love is like. I know for sure angels come in all forms.
Blessings,
Dianne Hammontree, Secretary of Homeward Bound Dog Shelter
As a substitute teacher, many surprises happen even if it is the first day on the job. One day, I was subbing at a school for at-risk teens.
One particular student, Nikki who was scrawny and fearful came to the door of my classroom. I believed that if she felt cornered she could become aggressive. Could she have been on the streets as a fifteen year old, starved for food and love and forced to take care of herself?
Since Jesse, my red Golden Retriever was a therapy dog, I was allowed to take her with me to teach. Jesse and I welcomed Nikki and showered her with kindness.
The first thing Nikki did, was swing her right leg backwards so she could kick Jesse in the chest. I blocked her kick and told her if she ever tried to hurt my dog she would live to regret it! She growled profanities at us, stormed into the classroom and plopped down on an old couch with a grunt. Her arms were crossed over her chest in defiance and her glare revealed a hardened heart.
“God, please give me the strength to get through this day,” I prayed. My prayer had no sooner left my lips, when I looked out the corner of my eye and saw Jesse casually walking over to Nikki. Gently, Jesse sat down, and lovingly looked at Nikki. Nikki scooted over to the left a little. Jesse did too. Nikki moved further to the left. Then Jesse, who had never been on a piece of furniture, climbed onto the couch. Nikki moved left again so that she practically melted into the armrest of the couch. Jesse put her head in Nikki’s lap.
For what seemed like hours, dog and child were embodied in a time capsule. Neither of them moved. Then I saw a flicker of light in Nikki’s eyes. Silently, one hand unwound itself and she laid a finger on Jesse’s head. Trying to look as if she didn’t care and failing miserably. Nikki relaxed and let the palm of her hand rest on Jesse’s back. Dog and child connected: mind and heart.
God works in mysterious ways. We don’t need to understand them any more than Nikki did. Probably, for the first time in her life, she experienced unconditional love through Jesse.
I still pray for Nikki even though it has been almost thirty years since our classroom experience. She was literally a homeless fifteen-year-old child at that time. She had been evicted from her mother’s house, aunt’s house, grandma’s home, and a foster home. I hope she is okay and that she remembered Jesse who gave her unconditional love, just as God does.
Blessings,
Dianne Hammontree, Secretary of Homeward Bound Dog Shelter
My beautiful, splendid, golden retriever, Jesse was joyful, kind, highly intelligent, and well behaved. She truly, purposely never did anything wrong—until one day she had an accident in my truck.
Let’s back up a day. It’s Christmas morning breakfast at the little church on Center Street. Many guests were served eggs, bagels, fruit, bacon, and coffee. My friend John Sperzel dressed as Santa and Jesse was his reindeer.
So many great smells, so many hugs and bacon-flavored kisses for Jesse. Dogs categorize these tantalizing foods into their little brains so they can find them later when needed.
After cleaning up the kitchen with my helpers, I took three dozen donated blueberry bagels home to scatter outside the boundary of the invisible fence in the woods for the birds and squirrels.
The next day, December 26, Jesse, and I traveled to daughter Julie’s house and before Julie came out to welcome us, I heard this awful rumbling noise in the back seat. I looked into Jesse’s frightened eyes and before we could exit the vehicle Jesse threw up about two dozen donated blueberry bagels. Apparently, she had pushed her way through the invisible fence to find FOOD.
Jesse was so embarrassed. I tried to soothe her with gentle words but before I could finish the sentence and get her out of the truck—up came one more dozen donated blueberry bagels. After cleaning up Jesse, the truck and me, we went home and spent time lying on the floor on ten towels.
We talked about nausea, bagels, crossing over her boundary line, my hopes, our walks, the neighbors, friends, and family. Jess would stare into my eyes and cuddle for ten minutes, twenty, thirty. Those of you who love dogs know about this experience. Dogs listen and try to interpret what all these human words mean. Such patience they have for us.
The responsibility for this wonderful creature was mine alone. Her health, her happiness and the maintenance of her training made her an ideal canine as a therapy dog. The sense of her place in this world was to attend to the needs of special children, hospice patients, at-risk teens, and anyone in need of a hug and a wet sloppy kiss. Even the smallest act of kindness by Jesse had the potential to change the recipient’s life.
Jesse was teaching me to be genuine and welcoming when greeting others, acknowledging their presence with a smile, or hug, or handshake. It was an honor to talk with folks and to cheer them up, and Jesse reminded me to rejoice in my relationships with others.
Thinking of getting a puppy this Christmas? You ask if there will be tons of early morning potty breaks and feedings? Yes. Will a puppy change your life? Yes. Will it take a while to figure each other out? Yes. This includes what you will both need, and what you will need to work on. Then it will just sort of click.
It doesn’t matter how much more complicated your life will be because of your pup. All you need to remember is how much richer your life will be with your puppy in it, and that he will be the best kind of distraction. Remember, it’s not always about learning—it’s a feeling. It’s about your bond. It’s amazing how fulfilled and happy you will be when your pups are happy and joyful. That is why I feel so blessed because I get to be with dogs every day.
I have always wanted to fix things, even when I was little. When I started training pups and helping their humans get ready for therapy dog testing, and when I saw how pups changed people’s lives, I couldn’t picture myself doing anything else. Keeping my puppy business small and intimate is where happiness begins.
This Christmas and in the coming months, consider these breeds when choosing the breed that best fits your family’s needs:
Jack Russell: He will consume one and one-half times his weight in human patience.
Bulldog: He will display that typically English characteristic for which there is no English name.
Poodle: He will act as if he has won first prize in the lottery of life.
Spaniel: He will have a way of getting the answer “yes,” without ever having posed any clear question.
Shih Tzu: He is happy, happy, happy and playful every minute of every day.
Afghan: He knows two things; first, he is not very smart and second, it doesn’t matter.
Lhasa Apso: He will look into your soul and let you know that everything will be ok.
Golden Retriever: He is not a dog, but a form of providing relief from strong or repressed emotions.
Whether you rescue or purchase a pup, know that your life will never be the same again!
Merry Christmas and Happy New Year
Blessings,
Dianne Hammontree, 302 Center Street, Ashland, Ohio
Joe Lyons •
June 10, 2023
Back in 1999 my youngest daughter, Julie, attended Bowling Green State University, and pursued a career in special education. One of her classes required her to teach a class in an inner city setting. She soon became mesmerized by twelve ten-year old African American youngsters in inner city Toledo, Ohio. Well into the school year, Julie called and asked if I could bring my two Golden Retrievers to her classroom for some dog therapy.
