Posts Tagged ‘Dogs’

Puppies, Puppies Everywhere!

Meet our little Geli girl!
(Geli, like “Jelly,” comes from Angelina.)

Star was so tired.

Both girls are much bigger and much wilder now than when these were taken. Basically, when they’re together they wrestle non-stop until they both fall asleep. If you’re thinking the Moore house is a little crazy right now, you are absolutely right! But when has it not been?


It’s a Girl!

Meet the newest member of the Moore family, little miss Queen Esther “Star.” She is 7 lbs. 2 oz. of fuzzy border collie joy. You can see in the pictures below where she gets her name. We are in love with our little Star!

Star and Jackson are already getting along quite well. They are learning to share.


Our Darling Beanie

Response from Mom:

My Dear Siestas, thank you so much for your love and kindness toward us in the loss of our beloved Beanie and in only three weeks from the day that we lost my constant shadow, Sunny. This time I didn’t feel the least funny about you expending energy to pray for us, even if it seemed silly to some. Between the loss of them both, we are torn up. Just torn up. Have cried more in the last three days than I have cried in the last five years put together. When your kids are grown and you’re nurturers by nature like Keith and I are, your pets have a whole different place in the home because you center so much of your activity around them and affection upon them. They are gifts from God to lonesome people. The four of us – Keith, Sunny, Beanie, and I – did everything together. We even took them to Sonic and knew what they liked to order.

The whole time we were enduring Sunny’s tests, terminal diagnosis then death, Keith and I kept saying to one another in tears, “As painful as this is, can you imagine if this were Beanie??” Then before we could even recover, it was. She was just so much younger and such a spoiled baby that we couldn’t stand to think about it. We knew it would be even worse. And, Lord have mercy, was it ever. Her cancer went to the brain in a flash so hers was a very violent death compared to Sunny’s peaceful slipping away. Beanie had non-stop seizures for the last six hours. Enduring those hours before the vet’s office opened with her in such pain was just terrible. She was such a beauty. Such an exquisite animal that people would stop us on the streets and ask us what breed she was. And simply the funniest dog ever. I’ll add one story to Amanda’s wonderful tribute. Beanie loved to “hold hands.” She’d sit next to you, upright like a person, in the car or on the couch and hold out her paw so you’d hold hands with her. You couldn’t resist it because of the sad look she’d get on her face if you didn’t give in. Keith has been on so many road trips where he’s had to say to her, “Beanie, Daddy’s gotta rest his arm! I’m bout to get a cramp in my shoulder!” So darling. We will miss her terribly. Siesta who also has the German Shorthair, your comment made us laugh for the first time. Beanie hunted lizards, too!

So many of you were right on target: It won’t be long till we fill our house with puppies again. We’ll take a little while to recover then dive back in. And they’ll drive us crazy for two solid years and chew up half the furniture. And we won’t care because Keith and I are dog people, plain and simple. Keep the fancy house. We’ll take rompin’ stompin’ dogs. Tranquility never has been what we’ve looked for in a home. We like L-I-F-E even if it covers the couch with fur. Thank you for your sweet hearts toward us and for joining us in giving thanks to our marvelous God for saving my man from harm. You should see his truck. He came so close to driving off that bridge. I kept thinking yesterday, “I could be planning my husband’s funeral.” Perspective.

I love you guys so much. Thanks again for the lavish support. In ways too personal to reflect on a blog, the last couple of months have been hard. My main consolation is that God’s Word is never more alive to me and His Presence never more palpable than when I’m hurting and need it. Need HIM. Oh, I love Him so. I’d rather have Jesus than anything on earth.

Sweet friends, my mom asked me to tell you what has been going on in our lives this week. As you know, just three weeks ago my parents had to say goodbye to their dear old dog, Sunny. We never would have thought that just 13 days later, their dog Beanie would turn up with cancerous tumors throughout her body. My parents had a sad and tumultuous week doing absolutely everything they could to help her. My dad did so much driving back and forth from Houston to Beanie’s special vet in South Texas that he fell asleep at the wheel and had an accident on Tuesday night. He hit the guardrail while driving on an overpass. Thank God, he was unharmed and no other cars were involved. We are so grateful for God’s protection.

It breaks my heart to have to tell you that Beanie died yesterday morning. She had to be put down after a very long night of continuous seizures that couldn’t be stopped. I know Beanie is out of pain, but my parents are swimming in it. Granted, if you could choose your pain, we would 100% choose this over losing or having a sick family member. There’s no doubt about that. Our pain is microscopic compared to what so many are going through. But man, this life can hurt, can’t it? In a million different ways.

Beanie was the baby of the family. She came along in 1999 when my parents were creeping up on the empty nest years. I was already in college and Melissa was getting ready to be a senior in high school. Add that to the fact that Beanie contracted a fatal disease from a thorn in South Texas when she was only a year old. Every single birthday she had was a gift. We celebrated her big time because we weren’t supposed to have much time with her. Our family definitely felt that God had done a miracle for us by letting her even live past her third birthday. All that to say, she was babied and given lots of attention from the very beginning.

When my dad first brought her home as a puppy, mom was in the Philippines. Dad charged me with babysitting the new puppy while he was at work. She was so precious and so bad. Melissa and I told him he was going to be in huge trouble when mom got home. I think he was in a little bit of trouble, but mom couldn’t resist the puppy breath and she fell in love with “Sabine.” It wasn’t long before mom and dad were referring to Beanie as our “sister.”

Beanie was an extremely energetic dog. She loved to run. She was incredibly fast, especially in her younger days. If you opened up the front door and there happened to be a squirrel, cat, or rabbit somewhere on the street that she had been eyeing through the window, look out. She could worm her way out the door and fly down the street like a streak of white light. We called this phenomenon a “beanie ran.” For example, Mom might answer my call breathless and frustrated and say, “Oh, we’ve just had a beanie ran. It was a really bad one. It took us thirty minutes to get her back in the house.”

Mom and I were talking about how much of our family vernacular, inside jokes, and silly songs have to do with that dog. Perhaps the most distinct phrase she inspired was “good for bad.” Beanie was terrible for the first two years of her life. She did beanie rans, she gnawed at your hand when you tried to pet her, she destroyed all her stuffed animals within minutes (including dear old Spitty Chicken), etc. Clearly, she was bad. So when she had a good day, we called her “good for bad.” When she had a bad day, she was “bad for bad,” which we all know is really bad. Our Beanie songs included “Hold me closer, teeny Beanie,” and “Hey Beansie! You’re so sweet, your feet smell like people feet! Hey Beansie!” (This latter was more like a cheer.)

Beansie, as vibrant and fun as she was, always had an empty place in her heart. Why was that? Well, someone mean and bad took her tail when she was only a pup. She was practically obsessed with it. The stump was known as the “tootsie tail.” It wagged with mind-boggling speed. If you stared too long at it you might fall under its spell and be made to give Beansie all the Meaty Bones in the pantry at once. Beanie really appreciated it when we held her tail still so that she could reach around and see it, smell it, and nibble on it a bit. When we let go she would spin around like a whirling dervish. Whirling Beanie, if you will. Dad was not too happy about us doing it, but it was so funny.

One of Beanie’s favorite things in all of life was to go on car rides. Dad would drive, mom would sit in the back seat, and Beanie would sit up front in the passenger seat. If you tried to usurp her throne next to dad, she would climb all over you and make you miserable until you finally moved to the back. In time we all accepted it. There are some large fields close to my parents’ house and they would drive over there with both dogs in the car. At just the right moment, they would open the door and both dogs would jump out and take off like a flash. They would run and run and run, stirring up all the rascally rabbits from their hiding places. When they started howling and picked up their speed, we always knew they had found one. Those bunnies always outran the dogs, but they had a great time in the chase.

Beansie was a great snuggler. She could spoon like a person. She also liked to lay her head on a pillow and be tucked in under sheets. Mom and Dad would call Melissa and me in to say goodnight to our sister. We would go in the room to marvel at Princess Beanie all tucked in her bed. Her head and entire body would remain still as though she were asleep, but that tootsie tail would be thumping the mattress and give her away every time.

The first time I visited my parents’ house after each dog passed away, there was a rabbit hopping around out front. Maybe those rascalies heard that the street was safe again, or maybe they were paying their respects. Whatever the case, that street will be a lot more boring without Beanie and Sunny. We imagine that right now they are running side-by-side through the tallest, greenest grass in heaven with speed they’ve never known and are having an absolute blast. We suspect Beanie might even have her tail back. And as much as we’ll miss that little dickens, that’s good for good.


The Passing of a Wonderful Dog

My Dear Siestas,

I’ve been needing to tell you something but it paled so dreadfully in comparison to the trials of those around us that I wouldn’t have dared share it when it happened. The mention of it would have been an insult. I’ve been looking for a time when we weren’t as mindful of terrible suffering, but the truth is, we daily become aware of astonishing hurts. Only yesterday someone shared another person’s loss in a blog comment that caused me to bawl my head off and get off my chair and onto the floor. This is embarrassingly minute in comparison. It’s just a Moore family thing but since you’ve been so involved in ongoing Sunny sagas, I feel like I should let you know.

On Wednesday, May 21st, I said good-bye to my beloved, faithful shadow and best friend of many years, Sunny. She was an unimpressive medium-size mixed-breed stray when she took up on my porch a jillion years ago but she has been my constant companion ever since and a source of much company and joy through some very lonely times. To tell you that I miss her is an understatement. It has yet to leave my mind.

Right around the time she got lost, she’d started getting really sick. At first, we thought it was an isolated thing but then she continued to have bouts. She got to where she cried much of the time so we knew she had to be in pain. After three different doctors and finally a referral to a specialty vet, we learned that she had a tumor on her spleen and that her liver was already “mottled,” indicating that disease had already spread to that organ. She was only comfortable when heavily medicated by a pain reliever and, if she was awake, she was nauseated. To let her suffer so was no way to treat such a lively, faithful pet.

I got to be with my girl, holding her gray face in my hands and telling her, through sobs, what a great job she’d done when she died. I still can’t recount it without crying. Keith buried her in my favorite place in my garden, right by my bench and surrounded by beautiful flowers. I can’t imagine ever having another little canine companion that will love me like that one did but, to be sure, one day down the road we’ll get another puppy. And she’ll have a hard act to follow.

I just wanted you to know what happened. You’ve been so sweet to care about all our dog drama. I have lots of perspective and am not even asking for prayer. Please spend that energy on people who are desperate to make it through this day. I’m doing fine, Sweet Sisters. Just a tad sad.

Thank you so much for your wonderful company on this pilgrimage with Christ Jesus. He is IT, isn’t He??

I love you like crazy.


A SUNNY DAY!!!!!!!



Not a Sunny Day

No change, you sweet, sweet sisters. Thank you so much for caring. We’ve looked absolutely everywhere in both the car and on foot. I told Melissa about thirty minutes after I picked her up and she’s looked obsessively for her ever since. I think you’ll be blessed to know that she found two of my fellow LPM staff members looking for Sunny in our neighborhood, too, and in two different cars. That’s the kind of people I work with. Sabrina, our director, almost couldn’t pull it together today. Curtis tried to be really low key about the whole thing, not wanting to enter into the drama, then we found out he’d been out in the car looking, too. She’s the kind of dog everybody loves.

We’re making posters and putting them out tomorrow and at that point feel that we’ve done all we can do. I will definitely let you know how this turns out but I won’t just keep on and on about it. In a world of rabid breast cancer and missing children, we’ll try to keep our perspective. Thank you so much, Siesta, for mentioning her chapter in “Feathers From My Nest.” That’s one of the most fitting tributes to our fine dog that we have in print. One of our Siestas, Allison Ashton, painted me the most beautiful and perfect rendering of Sunny that you can imagine for my birthday last year then she had it matted in red and framed in black. It’s the most precious thing ever. I have never loved a gift more. I’m so, so thankful to have it especially now. I love you, Allison.

Enough. Thanks for sharing my drama today. You are a wonderful community and you mean something to my life. Now, I’m going to go fix some comfort drinks (homemade hot chocolate with whipped cream) for Lis and I.

Mom wanted me to let you know that Sunny was not at the pound. We are hoping that she is just going to show up at the front door any time now. Please pray for Mom that she will be able to, in her words, pull it together. She is picking up Melissa from the airport right now. It’s her first trip home since she moved and we don’t want a cloud of sadness hanging over this sweet time with her. And in case this isn’t clear, I want y’all to know that we do have perspective about this. Sunny is just a dog, but it’s still sad to think about the loss of a furry friend. We love y’all! Thanks!

Hey, My Dear Siestas! I had planned to write you something funny today and share a few highlights from our trip to D.C. for the Esther intros and outros but something happened that took the funny right out of me.

My beloved Sunny dog is missing. When I got home from work yesterday around 5:00 PM, she darted out the front door. That’s not at all unusual. The whole neighborhood knows her and she has some good dog friends she frequently visits. She’s never been a dog you could confine. She will dig her way out of any backyard and shoot her way out of any open door. She was a stray sixteen years ago when she took up on my front porch. Our family has always teased that she was from the Order of Melchizedek because we never knew where she came from. Over the months that followed we became inseparable. During the worst season of my life, she sat right beside me while I bawled then would suddenly give my face what Keith and I came to call “the speed lick.” You never saw it coming. Then I’d laugh really hard and she’d wag her tail. Mission accomplished.

She should have sauntered back within the hour but didn’t. Keith and I drove all over the place last night then each got up many times during the night and looked out front for her. I put water on the porch because I knew when she came back she’d be thirsty. This morning, still no sign of her. Keith drove for over an hour this morning while I tried to get ready for work at home but bawled so hard, I couldn’t get my make-up on for the longest. We really hoped that the dog pound picked her up but, so far, they say they don’t have her. Keith is going to the facility as soon as it opens at 1:00 PM to see for himself.

I know this sounds silly to anyone who is not a dog lover but I am beside myself. She is my best buddy and is absolutely obsessed with me. She cries even if I’m temporarily out of sight. She follows me around, bless her heart, and sits wherever I do then sleeps right beside my bed where I can literally reach down and pet her. She is very old and I know she won’t live a whole lot longer but I want to be right beside her holding her furry gray face when she finishes her job as the world’s best guard dog and my most trusty friend.

I’ll let you know what happens. We Siestas have shared a lot of life in the last many months and I thought you might as well know that your buddy is fit to be tied. I love you guys and I’ll get you an update as soon as I have one.


Just Dreaming?

Hey, Siestas! It’s Bible study day and I don’t have three minutes to spare but I had a thought I wanted to quickly share with you. I’m sitting at my breakfast room table with my Bible, books, and notes, putting the last few sentences on my message for tonight. (Can’t sit outside because the wind is whipping so hard that I can’t keep my notes on the table! It’s nearly blowing the feathers off my blue jays!) Keith is out and about, leaving the house nice and quiet so I can prepare – which was going well until I got distracted by a particularly silly birddog.

Beanie is sound asleep on the couch but must be dreaming she’s chasing a rabbit or a squirrel. She’s barking in her sleep the way she does when she’s chasing a critter and all four legs are going back and forth as if she’s running like the wind. It’s the funniest thing you’ve ever seen. She does it periodically so maybe one of these days after I master the camera, I can move to video and catch her in action.

Every time she does it I think the same thing: is that what we’re doing? Are we just snoozing our way through (purposeful) life and day dreaming about how we’re going to chase down what Christ chased us down for – or are we going to wake up and actively pursue what God has created us for – even when the path gets rough? I ask the question because I’ve faced the dilemma. See if you can go here with me a minute: We get some vision from God and get pretty jazzed about it then, as God leads, we start taking steps that direction and suddenly the path gets hard. Or LONG. We wanted to leap there. Not crawl there. Somehow we weren’t expecting it to be like this. We were thinking it was going to be fun. Always fulfilling. And, for crying out loud, not so dad-blasted hard and irritating. We didn’t want to have to learn it or live it. We just wanted to do it. NOW.

So we retreat and decide we dreamed it all up – just like Satan was hoping we would. We don’t understand that the pressures we face getting to our places of full-throttle effectiveness in Christ are crucial for developing the muscle to sustain ministry there. He’s developing the character the calling requires. The Apostle Paul knew better than anybody what the path to Christ-ordained effectiveness required. In 1 Corinthians 16:8-9, he told of a “great and effectual door” that God had opened for him in Ephesus and in the same breath mentioned the great opposition he faced there. Let me echo here on this blog again and again: Satan will never oppose us more than when he thinks we’re onto our callings. Bet on that. As L.B. Cowman said in Streams in the Desert, “Both in the physical realm and spiritual realm, great pressure means great power.” (p.9)

Read these words from Paul with a fresh application to your significant life:
“Not that I have already obtained all this, or have already been made perfect, but I press on to take hold of that for which Christ Jesus took hold of me…Forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead, I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus.” (Philippians 3:12-14)

Let nothing – no obstacle, opposition, pressure, PAST, or passage of time – stop you besides Christ Himself. And if HE does, stop immediately. It will be only for your good and your clarification. You will know the difference as you lie on your face before Him and ask Him. To double check that we ourselves have not inadvertently caused a delay, let’s be sure and turn dramatically from pride and every hint of selfish ambition so that Christ can entrust us with power from on high…

“For the vision is yet for an appointed time, but at the end it shall speak, and not lie: though it tarry, wait for it; because it will surely come.” Habakkuk 2:3

“Wake up, O sleeper, rise from the dead, and Christ will shine on you”! Eph. 5:14


My Best Buddy

I am so worried right now. My beloved Sunny, the mixed-breed dog that showed up on my porch many years ago and became my shadow and my best friend, is not doing well. She is fifteen years old now, has failing hearing and some failing sight, and arthritis in her back legs. We’ve had her to the vet a number of times and we’re doing all we can to make her comfortable and to extend her days. Of course, like all creatures, the course of her days is in her Creator’s hands. I just know He loves this little furry servant He sent to us years ago when I was so lonely I didn’t know what to do.

She has been indescribable company to me while my lively home has grown quieter and quieter with each sparrow that has flown from the nest. Sunny, whose coal black fur is now salt and pepper gray, is getting very old and I’ll be honest with you. I can hardly stand the thought of not having her. (I can hardly see through my tears to write.) She is so attached to me right now that if I walk out the front door or even leave the room and she awakens from a nap and doesn’t see me, she hops up and cries, looking around frantically. Many years ago, some of the neighbor boys used to make fun of her because she’s such a mutt. They’d mock, “What kind of dog is she anyway?” And one of our kids would always answer, “A guard dog!” And that she is. She’s been what Keith and I always call our “trusty dog.” When I wake up, she’s right on the floor next to my side of the bed. When I come home in the afternoon, she’s waiting on the front porch. When I’m out of town, Keith has to pick her up and carry her in the house because she doesn’t want to go in until I’m home.

I know that so many people have far worse pain and far more debilitating troubles. I prayed for a number of them in my prayer time a little while ago. But the prospect of losing a pet that has been such a fixture in the family for so long is still painful in its own right. This morning I let her out in the front yard to roam a bit like she likes and, refreshingly, I watched her prance around almost youthfully. As is her usual routine, she then headed down toward the end of the street to visit her dog friends. A funny thought occurred to me as I watched her make a bee-line their direction. Sunny is probably going to say all these same things to her dog buddies about me.

Sunny and Beth in 1998

Sunny being her most patient self as baby Jackson plays with her fur