Faith Story - Cheyenne

Recently I received an email story from a good friend of mine. It has a powerful message. The author suggested that those who read it might want to forward the good news story to others. I have revised the story to be able to make it fit the newspaper column (and this blog.)

The daughter of an elderly father tells the story. Four days after his sixty-seventh birthday, he had a heart attack. He survived. But something inside Dad died. His zest for life was gone. Offers of help were turned aside with sarcasm and insults. His friends stopped coming.

She and her husband, Dick, asked Dad to come live with them. Within a week, she regretted the invitation. He criticized everything. Alarmed, her husband sought out their pastor. At the close of each session he prayed, asking God to soothe Dad's troubled mind.

But it seemed God did not hear. Finally, she called a mental health clinic. Just when she was giving up hope, one worker suddenly exclaimed, 'I just read something that might help you!' The article described a remarkable study done at a nursing home. All of the patients were under treatment for chronic depression. Yet their attitudes had improved dramatically when they were given responsibility for a dog.'

The daughter went immediately to a dog pound. There she discovered the pointer. He was a caricature of the breed. Years had etched his face and muzzle with shades of gray. His hipbones jutted out in lopsided triangles. But it was his eyes that caught and held her attention.

She pointed to the dog. 'Can you tell me about him?' The officer said, 'Appeared out of nowhere and sat in front of the gate. We brought him in, figuring someone would claim him. His time is up tomorrow.' He gestured helplessly.

As the words sank in she turned to the man. 'You mean you're going to kill him?' 'Ma'am,' he said gently, 'that's our policy.' She looked at the pointer again. The calm brown eyes awaited her decision. 'I'll take him,' she said. When she reached home she was helping her prize out of the car when Dad came up. 'Look what I got for you, Dad!' Dad looked, with his face in disgust. 'If I had wanted a dog I would have gotten one.'

Anger rose inside her. She yelled. 'You'd better get used to him, Dad. He's staying!' They stood glaring at each, when suddenly the pointer pulled free. He wobbled toward dad and sat down in front of him. Then slowly, carefully, he raised his paw.

Dad's lower jaw trembled as he stared at the uplifted paw. The pointer waited patiently. Then Dad was on his knees hugging the animal. Dad named the pointer Cheyenne. Together they explored the community, making many friends. They even started to attend Sunday services together.

Dad and Cheyenne were inseparable for three years. Dad's bitterness faded, and he and Cheyenne made many friends. Then one night Dad died in his sleep. Two days later the family shock and grief deepened when they discovered Cheyenne lying dead beside Dad's bed. They wrapped him in the rug he had slept on. As they buried him near a favorite fishing hole, Dad's daughter silently thanked God for the dog and the help he had given in restoring Dad's peace of mind.