Our Ridiculous Excesses
My life and world has changed so much since April 1944. That was the year and month that I was born.
As a family we lived in rural, southern Saskatchewan in small towns. Free times and holidays were always centered at the Kirkpatrick Family Farm – at Truax. Those that are from that Farm Centered Universe will remember scenes like this well.
I would like to take you to the yard just outside the farm house. The main door facing south presented access to the kitchen. The first thing you saw in the kitchen was the old cook stove. I could spend hours in that house just “having fun” as a boy. Each room had its own treasures for boys to look at.
Before I walk you through each room and show all the treasures (maybe another time) – you need to come back outside.
When we drove into the farm yard we were always greeted by one or two faithful centurions of the farm. The farm dog would be barking wildly. When there were two dogs – one would be ahead of the other and they would swirl around the car until someone would open a door. The dogs got a sniff of who and what was inside – you were cleared for landing and they went back to doing what they did so well – sleeping in the warm sunshine of the summer or back into their dog houses.
One dog that I recall was named ‘Caesar’. The other one that I remember was ‘Old Pup’. And then there was … “Cranks” – a dog that ran funny with one leg out of joint – kind of looked like a crank on the old cars.
The changes in my world today can easily be seen in the dogs of this world. It can been seen in the way that we treat them and the way that they react to us… and with us.
These old dogs were farm dogs that lived outside. Yes, they were loved and cared for but they knew their place and we knew their’s as well. They had a job to do – protecting the farm and cooperating with farm tasks. They were fed food from the table – but fed outside in one of their old metal dishes near their dog house – which was not that far from the main door…near the kitchen.
I vaguely remember one of the dogs being hurt or being sick. It was then that one of my uncles had to do the humane thing and put it down. My aunts cried and the uncles moved about their business as tough farmers. Tough farmers don’t cry for old dogs. No one planted flowers over the dead dog’s grave. These were farm dogs… similar to farm cows and farm horses and when they died – well they died. They were gone and soon a new little pup would show up to begin its actions and duties as the new farm dog. In our family farm’s case, the second dog was probably added so that the other dog could train it. Not many others on the farm had time to do that task – it was the lead dog’s duty…it was in the contract.
Something happened in 63 years. Farm dogs have changed. They look the same but they have changed in ability. They now live inside with us. They sleep at our feet and they eat from beside the table. Seldom do they die by being crushed by a car or a farm machine. They die peacefully in the vet’s office surrounded by a loving family sobbing its eyes out. Or in the case of the dog we had, Sparkle, in the arms of her master while the vet administered the sleeping agent that dispatched her to doggie’s heaven.
This past week in New York, it was announced that a dog, “Trouble”, has inherited 12 Million US Dollars. That’s right the dog’s name is “ Trouble” and it is now rich – very rich. Its dead owner, Leona Helmsley, thought so much of her dog “Trouble” that she gave it a whole bunch of money… and left her grandkids nothing. (Leona and Trouble's photo is above)
Here is the anatomy of her will…
But I will venture to say that the dog may have brought more happiness into dear Leona’s life than did people.
That however is another weird way that we have changed. We are more isolated from the surrounding world than every before.
If only I could have taken dear old Leona to the Kibera, in Nairobi, Kenya to see the smiles of the kids near the church, and to hear the amazing music made with the voices of congregation of the church we attended that morning in April, 2007. If she could have given just a small part of the $12 Million USA money – it could have transformed a large portion of the 900,000 people that live in that slum.
The Kibera changed me… Leona’s dog and the knowledge that it is a multi-millionaire won’t. It is still a dog… no matter how you cut its meat or stud its collar with diamonds – IT IS A DOG!
My, oh my how we have changed.
Am I a hard core, tough old bird that lives a dog hating life? No by all means no. I have changed too. In our back yard “Sparkle” has her own place as well. She rests below our big old tree. The shade from the tree’s branches cover the quiet place that she now resides in.
Alida asked me the other if we should look at getting another pup. I shook my head and said to her, “No way, ‘We’ couldn’t afford one… I can’t afford the pain when they leave us… and it costs way too much to take her to the vet… and besides that we haven’t got Leona’s money! No way!”
I don’t like it when Leona brings up the topic again… if she would only have left a little less to “Trouble” – I wouldn’t have to deal with this.
~ Pastor Murray Lincoln ~
Resources and Sources
http://www.theglobeandmail.com/servlet/story/RTGAM.20070830.wldog30/BNStory/lifeMain/home
One little, very much loved, Italian Grey Hound - and my friend Fernand.
As a family we lived in rural, southern Saskatchewan in small towns. Free times and holidays were always centered at the Kirkpatrick Family Farm – at Truax. Those that are from that Farm Centered Universe will remember scenes like this well.
I would like to take you to the yard just outside the farm house. The main door facing south presented access to the kitchen. The first thing you saw in the kitchen was the old cook stove. I could spend hours in that house just “having fun” as a boy. Each room had its own treasures for boys to look at.
Before I walk you through each room and show all the treasures (maybe another time) – you need to come back outside.
When we drove into the farm yard we were always greeted by one or two faithful centurions of the farm. The farm dog would be barking wildly. When there were two dogs – one would be ahead of the other and they would swirl around the car until someone would open a door. The dogs got a sniff of who and what was inside – you were cleared for landing and they went back to doing what they did so well – sleeping in the warm sunshine of the summer or back into their dog houses.
One dog that I recall was named ‘Caesar’. The other one that I remember was ‘Old Pup’. And then there was … “Cranks” – a dog that ran funny with one leg out of joint – kind of looked like a crank on the old cars.
The changes in my world today can easily be seen in the dogs of this world. It can been seen in the way that we treat them and the way that they react to us… and with us.These old dogs were farm dogs that lived outside. Yes, they were loved and cared for but they knew their place and we knew their’s as well. They had a job to do – protecting the farm and cooperating with farm tasks. They were fed food from the table – but fed outside in one of their old metal dishes near their dog house – which was not that far from the main door…near the kitchen.
I vaguely remember one of the dogs being hurt or being sick. It was then that one of my uncles had to do the humane thing and put it down. My aunts cried and the uncles moved about their business as tough farmers. Tough farmers don’t cry for old dogs. No one planted flowers over the dead dog’s grave. These were farm dogs… similar to farm cows and farm horses and when they died – well they died. They were gone and soon a new little pup would show up to begin its actions and duties as the new farm dog. In our family farm’s case, the second dog was probably added so that the other dog could train it. Not many others on the farm had time to do that task – it was the lead dog’s duty…it was in the contract.
Something happened in 63 years. Farm dogs have changed. They look the same but they have changed in ability. They now live inside with us. They sleep at our feet and they eat from beside the table. Seldom do they die by being crushed by a car or a farm machine. They die peacefully in the vet’s office surrounded by a loving family sobbing its eyes out. Or in the case of the dog we had, Sparkle, in the arms of her master while the vet administered the sleeping agent that dispatched her to doggie’s heaven.
This past week in New York, it was announced that a dog, “Trouble”, has inherited 12 Million US Dollars. That’s right the dog’s name is “ Trouble” and it is now rich – very rich. Its dead owner, Leona Helmsley, thought so much of her dog “Trouble” that she gave it a whole bunch of money… and left her grandkids nothing. (Leona and Trouble's photo is above)
Here is the anatomy of her will…
- $12-million to Trouble, Ms. Helmsley's dog.
- $10-million to Alvin Rosenthal, Ms. Helmsley's brother.
- $5-million each to two grandchildren, David and Walter Panzirer, as long as they visit their father's grave at least once a year.
- $3-million for Helmsley mausoleum upkeep.
- $100,000 to her chauffeur, Nicholas Celea.
- $0 to grandson Craig Panzirer and granddaughter Meegan Panzirer, "for reasons which are known to them," Ms. Helmsley wrote.
- Everything else, including cash from the sale of residences and belongings, reportedly worth billions, is to go to the Leona M. and Harry B. Helmsley Charitable Trust
But I will venture to say that the dog may have brought more happiness into dear Leona’s life than did people.
That however is another weird way that we have changed. We are more isolated from the surrounding world than every before.
If only I could have taken dear old Leona to the Kibera, in Nairobi, Kenya to see the smiles of the kids near the church, and to hear the amazing music made with the voices of congregation of the church we attended that morning in April, 2007. If she could have given just a small part of the $12 Million USA money – it could have transformed a large portion of the 900,000 people that live in that slum.
The Kibera changed me… Leona’s dog and the knowledge that it is a multi-millionaire won’t. It is still a dog… no matter how you cut its meat or stud its collar with diamonds – IT IS A DOG!
My, oh my how we have changed.
Am I a hard core, tough old bird that lives a dog hating life? No by all means no. I have changed too. In our back yard “Sparkle” has her own place as well. She rests below our big old tree. The shade from the tree’s branches cover the quiet place that she now resides in.Alida asked me the other if we should look at getting another pup. I shook my head and said to her, “No way, ‘We’ couldn’t afford one… I can’t afford the pain when they leave us… and it costs way too much to take her to the vet… and besides that we haven’t got Leona’s money! No way!”
I don’t like it when Leona brings up the topic again… if she would only have left a little less to “Trouble” – I wouldn’t have to deal with this.
~ Pastor Murray Lincoln ~
Resources and Sources
http://www.theglobeandmail.com/servlet/story/RTGAM.20070830.wldog30/BNStory/lifeMain/home
One little, very much loved, Italian Grey Hound - and my friend Fernand.
posted by Murray Lincoln at
Sunday, September 02, 2007
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