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Canine Heroes Save Life of Popular Cartoonist (A True Story)

How Two Dogs Saved the Best Cartoonist's Life on the Internet

It's 1994 and I'm relatively new to southern California. I sold my successful bus tour business in Washington D.C. and moved to Los Angeles to try my hand at screenwriting. Not much has shaken me for the first few years. Except for the land. I live in Sherman Oaks in the San Fernando Valley. I can clearly remember being awakened at about five in the morning by my golden puppy Otis who was barking. Otis slept in the bed with me but he stepped to the floor to start his twig. This is not normal skin but I took it outside in the backyard and found a hallway. Otis kept barking and clearly felt uneasy but did not let go. I rubbed my eyes and looked around and there were dozens (if not more) cats walking around in the alley. I've never seen her before. They obviously don't act the way I usually do when they see cats, but they seem to be trying to let go of something. Otis' point continues strong.

The next thing I knew I was thrown into the rough ground. It felt as if I was in the middle of a volcano resisting heat. Then I heard a loud noise. My house and a few others on the block have entered. The rooftop is located on the ground level and the rest hangs in various places. It no longer resembles a roof, and shingles are everywhere. The wall had been set up where my bedroom was used and the giant ceiling beams were on the bed where I had just slept no more than 10 minutes earlier. The soil continues to shake and more structures collapse. Otis stopped barking but the cats kept going in their circle. I was going to learn in a few hours (on my car radio) that I had a terrible Northridge earthquake.

I couldn't go into my house for a few days. The land continued to shake for a few weeks. I've lost everything. I'm fine with furniture and other materials, because they can be replaced, but family albums, memorabilia dating back to kindergarten, childhood videos, college collections and travel will never be found again. So I rented an apartment, which was not easy, as they were quickly filled. The apartment won't allow animals, so first I have to find a good home for a dog that has just saved my life. Fortunately, emotionally, as much as I hate to lose this beautiful animal, he is not one of my fondest memories, as I am far from home and he is still a puppy. I was still feeling a great loss, but, after putting the ad in the paper, Otis drove in a new Rolls shotgun that could be converted on his way to the mansion and yard in the Malibu hills. The men who adopted it have been animal lovers and owners for many years, and both are instantly recognizable. Even though my heart was broken, I knew Otis, who, in the hopes of saving my life, would be fine.

I called the insurance company but waited a long time, that there were many others before me, but be patient. Then my mother called from Mississippi to warn me that she had contracted an incurable form of cancer. She needs me there. I left, and didn't finish any of my valuables. But I will always remember the beautiful golden puppy that saved my life, felt the danger ahead, and informed me. I would not have written here if it hadn't been for Otis.

Going home south of the Mississippi after leaving for so long was difficult for me. I've worked all over the country in corporate America, in places like New York City, Washington, D.C. and some other metropolitan areas. I am now very different from my childhood friends who never left home. It proved difficult to form a friendship bond due to lack of common interest, so there wasn't much talk. It's almost as if we're speaking another language. But I'm learning to be tolerant of that too, and maybe it's a good thing, since it gives me more time to focus on taking care of Mom and the sales work I take on local television stations.

My mother passed away in 1997. I was shocked and depressed. Some college friends now live in Cape Cod, inviting me to stay with them for a week. I did. They keep my spirit alive with movies, dinners and more. One of the movies is Oscar winner with Jack Nicholson and Helen Hunt's "Should It Be So" where a dry, wrinkled writer (played by Nicholson) changes his life by caring for his neighbor's dog (Greg Kinnear), learning unconditional love.

After the movie, I realized that the character played by Nicholson could easily be me.

I have been a writer for most of my life, (as a fourth grade, writing everything from sit-coms to movies, short stories to, finally cartoons). I wanted to start a similar cartoon project like The Far Side, but it was too dry and stressful to launch, plus I was too stressed to work, and just sat at home for months and watched the news (which led to more depression).

Finally I went out and started volunteering at a local university equestrian center, cleaning the barn and feeding the horses. One very stormy day, with tornadoes around, a pack of three dogs appeared. I fell in love with a guy right away, who looks like Benji, but he's a bit scared of people. He was obviously abused and / or hit by a vehicle and his hair was a big mat. Her coloring is amazing, and her spirit eyes show that she wants love, and gives so much. They asked for help. I can tell this one is a survivor. We left food and water for her every night because she didn't want human interaction, and she would eat and drink a little and sleep in the stables with the horses. He thundered with thunder, so his name was "Thor, Dog Of Thunder".

My friend said he would take her home and recover her which might take a month or so, if I would, otherwise she was ready to be taken down. I'm not in a good space, I guess, to take care of animals, but I agree. Little did I know that one day the animal would take care of me. She shaved her mat, laid it on the drip, and took care of it at home night after night. She finally came.

Since I keep a journal, I've looked back and seen some quotes, "Having trouble finding a reason to live," or "Depression is all-powerful despite therapy and medicine," etc. I'm not suicidal, but I can easily see how someone who can be depressed can think of it as an option. But every time I did, I looked down to see Benji's furry dog ​​with big brown eyes, wanting only a little food, a roof, and love. I didn't realize this would have a negative effect on my mood at that time.

Almost a month later, he socialized, liked to pull, got in the car, went everywhere with me, lay down next to me, and slept in my bed. She's a housebroken. Despite the loud thunder and loud noise, I soon realized that this was not just an animal, but a gift from God. She knows every single one of my moods. I worked from home, and like magic, I created my cartoon after four years of no creativity.

For the longest time, I couldn't see the connection between pet care and increased creativity. At last it started to make sense. He not only loved me, but his charming suspicions made me laugh hysterically. It was as if he knew he was doing it, just to put me in a good mood.

She stays next to me, always smiling. If I call his name, he'll lift his tail, come to me, I'll lean, and he'll kiss my face and keep smiling. The view seems to say, "Keep doing what Rick did, one day you will see good things happen to you." I thought this was all my imagination, but I continued my daily ritual with Thor. He can be very playful and manipulative. When he was in the mood to play, he would tell me that just a kiss wasn't enough. She wants me on the floor with her to play, roll with her, or play with any of her favorite toys. I've always been required. Strangely enough, the longer I have Thor, the more productive I become.

As the months passed, and as the years passed, I saw my cartoon efforts grow. Out of the blue, the email came asking me for my signature. "Why, I thought what did I do?" Thor kept smiling as if he knew. That's what he did. She has slowly helped me gain my creativity and spirit by offering something I have never ... unconditional love. When my mood drops, she automatically comes to me full of kisses, and will jump on the bed and sleep with me, with my head on my pillow if I really feel bad. He knew when I was feeling good, his smile would come back and he would take me to my computer, as if he knew, where I would "make it."

I follow Thor's instructions, which often take me to my computer. I'll follow him there and he'll stand until I sit in the chair and start working. Then he'll lie next to me for hours. She rarely leaves me.

The nurse estimated that Thor was about eight years old (by his teeth) when I met him. Four years later, he developed a disease that made him act catatonic and just stared at the wall. He won't respond to his name or eat much. I rushed to the vet who made an immediate diagnosis: "juvenile seizures" and he had to be placed on barbiturates daily (and other medicines) and would live a short life, not a very good quality of life, and prepare to put it up soon. I gave him the highest grade dog food.

I immediately went to the Internet and started researching. I finally found a controversial surgeon / author of a doctor in Australia named Dr. Ian Billinghurst, who has written several books on what is known as the b.a.r.f diet (bone and raw food) and I researched more about it. There is not much science behind it, but the theory makes sense, since the dog's digestive system has not grown much since they were wolves, just as cats have not been since they were lions (the diet is said to work for both). This will be the first time I've ever tried something so dramatic without the science behind it. The first month was terrible. Although Thor ate the food, his eradication was very bright, a lot of diarrhea and vomiting, and fatigue.

One day I woke up and he jumped on the bed next to me. He's ready to play and play a lot. We played for hours on the floor. She's not only the old self, she's the new dog. The deletion is working properly again. She stopped vomiting. When she was ready to eat, she took me to the fridge. He only eats raw fruits, vegetables, meat and bones. He now turns 13 and walks five miles a day with me. This will continue until he is eighteen years old, and will do so without any illness or veterinarian. I stopped the vaccine, and started giving her homeopathic nos odes and to protect the worm's heart, walnut peanut skin. He's growing fast. He remains the healthiest and healthiest dog I have ever had, much less seen in my life. It was so special that the shop owner came outside just to talk to "Thor" when I took him for a long walk. They just can't believe that an old dog can walk this far, without any breath, and have a love like a person. His energy levels are like puppies, like I have never seen him before, and his attitude is, as positive as it may be. While she has always been very delicate about her diet, and monthly veterinary visits are the norm, both issues are gone. He * likes * to eat everything from melon to raw pork to raw green flour, and is eaten like a wolf by his ancestors.

Thor kept pushing me to work hard. He also stood before me for 3.5 years of college. I returned (online) at age 45 after a major heart attack. The friends who took care of him for me when I was in the hospital told me he was just laying in the corner with his head on his front leg. He is almost inactive except going outside to do his business. When I got home, she was happy again, but actually felt like I wasn't able to get on the floor to play until she jumped on the bed to be with me when I recovered. It never bothers me when I'm too tired, but it's just there for me.

When Thor was twenty, he started having minor heart problems so I put it on some special herbs (never a capsule or tablet that offers very little medical value) that I also took and still took, including samento (a strong form cat claws), cayenne, hawthorn berries, and a few others. This put her at risk, but she was unable to take the long road. Finally, about a year later, it reached a more serious level. I finally had to take her to a veterinarian and put her in the heart field. I knew this would eventually affect his heart and kidneys, but at least he stood a chance before the incident. She lived for almost two years. He kept walking, albeit short, until last month. His quality of life remains as high as his attitude and love for life and people.

The veterinarian told me he felt Thor didn't want to be put, even though I was ready and asked him. He advised me that Thor had made too many comebacks, and gave one last try, "throw it away" because his kidney failed because I now needed to give him a heart medication. I was worried he might be uncomfortable, and I was ready, even with all my heart, to put it down. The nurse spoke to me, saying, if there was no liver or kidney damage, she would not be in pain.

But he's very weak right now and I know he's leaving soon. So in my case, I asked the veterinarian to give him the pain medication I was going to take care of at home until he died, that is, if he hadn't made a comeback as he had done several times before.

They give me morphine to administer it every four hours. I lay down on the floor with her because she couldn't jump on the bed. I set an alarm clock for every four hours, and put the pill down on Thor's thorax. He showed no signs of pain, and the veterinarian advised me that he was not in pain; that heart disease and the like are not manifest in animals like humans; they just get tired

and numb; and, to be sure, morphine will prevent pain in the case of liver damage.

I gave her morphine for about an hour and sat on the floor right beside her wiping her back as if to appreciate it. I fell asleep about 3am the next morning after giving it, what would be her last dose. When I woke up, Thor wasn't breathing, but he still had a smile on his face. I could feel the tears building in my eyes. "I kissed her, and told her that I really liked her, and how much she had done for me." The dog that the veterinarian asked to save, eventually saved me.

I wrapped it with a blanket and built a small box from a wooden box. I'm digging a hole

on a mountain in the backyard of my building in Hot Springs, Ar, where Thor's body is today. This is his favorite place to go for a walk with me. There, he chased the squirrels, possums, armadillos, barked at the soaring eagles, and ran around all the scents offered by nature. I cried and didn't stop for almost a month. I still have a sad day almost three months later.

I had a tombstone made and wrote the epitaph, "Here put Thor, the best dog on the planet who brought me and many other people very happy.

Thor is in pain (he may be experienced), and is in a better place. I got some help with it.

I try to think back to all the good times I had with this amazing animal. They cannot be explained in words. Even my local pure corporate bank, by the way, Bank Of America everywhere, not only wants to, but demands that I bring Thor on every visit. No matter where I go, everyone wants Thor there too. He's special.

I also had a beautiful girlfriend not many years ago named "Rosy" who had a fear of dogs for being attacked by someone in her youth. I talked about "Thor" to him. He lives far away, but we visit often. He came one day, and met Thor (when he was about twenty-one) and he loved her immediately, rubbing his feet, demanding that he be embraced. This just surprised me a bit, because I know dogs have a 6th sense of fear and sometimes bark or attacks. But he wasn't afraid of Thor at least and bowed and embraced him. They are instant friends. This is a good sign, as, although Thor liked almost everyone, if someone came close to me that he didn't have a good feeling, he would bark incessantly. I believe Thor feels that Rosy knows how to practice unconditional love, to feel it, and to respond to it.

It was in our apartment, his room, where he could be a territory with other people and animals, but he accepted her immediately, and vice versa. And the fear of the dog is acute, and for good reason. It's gone now. He gave Thor credit for it, and I saw it happening right away. The two of them quickly became friends.

A few days passed and I thought the last month was a difficult one for me. No more playing together. She takes care of geriatric animals, using the same skills I learned to care for my dead mother; something that is my responsibility, something I know I'll never regret doing, but it's not something that should be easy or fun. But I make myself think about all the good times, long daily walks. His reaction when I reached the rope to go on the streets (jumping up and down and smiling) was driving all over the country, even to Canada. She just likes to be with me, and vice versa.

In retrospect, all the stresses and tensions of the care taking phase rewarded. I can do everything I can for both the person who gave me life (my mom) and the dog that eventually taught me how to live and give unconditional love.

This is something I can guarantee that money can't be bought, and they are worth more than money, they are not in the same league. People who have a dime a dozen (no pun intended); the one who practices unconditional love is like finding a needle in a straw. Thanks to my old friend "Thor", I became one of those needles. Otherwise, it will never happen. I'll miss you, "Babydog" (which is one of her nicknames), and remember you for the rest of my life.



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