Faithinflipflops

Living simply, loving deeply!

The Tale of a Veteran, His Daughter, and Her Whiskey Dog

Today is Veteran’s Day. My dad was a veteran of World War II. One of his brothers told me at my dad’s funeral that my dad left for the army a young man and came back an old one. He also struggled with alcohol the rest of his life. Two months before he passed away, I was up late. My dad had a vivid flashback to 60 years prior when he was under attack in a pasture somewhere in Italy. He came rushing out of his room like a young man (he only got around with a walker at this point). He thought I was a German. He was in his 80s and it was as real to him as if it had just happened. Veterans pay a price to protect us that lasts a lifetime. I have blogged about my dad and his service in Lessons from the Greatest Generation and Veteran’s Day: WWII in Pictures.

I have been thinking about my dad a lot lately. I recently got a new dog, Thompson. My dad would have absolutely loved him. He is actually named after my dad’s favorite whiskey, Old Thompson. There are things this dog does that makes me think of my dad daily. Thompson is a rescue dog. I was not looking for a new dog. At all. My family has this belief that you don’t find the dog, the dog finds you. I had lost my last rescue dog, Woodstock back in June. I had decided not to get a new one for awhile. I am not even quite certain on how I came to get Thompson. The past ten days have been a blur.  I feel like somehow I was manipulated by my good friend, Todd, who was looking for a playmate for his dog Captain. Anyway, I decided to look online at dogs, too. Just one time. And I saw Thompson’s picture on the Erie County Humane Society’s page. I just knew I needed to see him. I thought you could only see them by appointment but my friend called. He informed me that he and his sister would be there in two minutes to get me. The rest is history. As soon as I met him, I knew he was mine. He’s a pointer mix mixed with some other kind of hound. I cannot believe I got a hound!!!  My dad was a hunter and we always had beagles, walkers, blue ticks, or some sort of hunting dog growing up.

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Todd & Captain. His plan backfired. Thompson is great with people but struggles with other dogs, I am working on it 🙂

 

It was a family endeavor to name Thompson. There was a family group text that had over 200 texts in it. There were good names mentioned; Kluber (Indians pitcher), Jethro (NCIS), Champ (family song), Clarence (Clemons from the E Street Band), Sipe (for Brian Sipe), Tait (Joe Tait)…can you see our love of Cleveland sports? Thompson was suggested by my sister, Nancy. And it fit. His eyes are the exact color of the whiskey. And he reminds me so much of my dad. I received a text that said this, “Thompson is not ordinary, sounds distinguished, masculine, would remind you of dad, its origin is well known to those who should know, it’s not about a specific time, but in honor and memory of someone who was good and bad but we love ’em just the same…just like you’ll love this little guy. Each time you call the name, it will make you smile as it will the rest of your siblings, and we’ll laugh, cry and remember…forever. It’s a no-brainer.” We, Stricklers, take naming our dogs very seriously. We are a family of dog lovers.

This afternoon, I went on a hike with Thompson. A friend had suggested Edison Creek Metro Park and it was perfect. Halfway through the hike (before we got lost…we ended up hiking at least 6 to 8 miles), I realized we were in the woods by Smokey and Frailey Road. My dad grew up there (in the Ogontz). He would have me take him for rides often and would point out his homestead, his one-room school house, and his old stomping grounds. I realized I was in the very woods he hunted in as a kid and a teenager. I was so overwhelmed and felt so connected to where I had come from. I was with my hound, in the very woods my dad hunted in.

I am so grateful for where I come from. Growing up was not easy. It was messy. It left some scars. But it made me who I am today. There is a song that has been the song of my heart this week. It’s called Reckless Love. I have listened to it over and over again. While I was in the woods, the lyrics came to mind and they became my prayer of thanksgiving. I was overwhelmed with how good and kind God has been to me over the years. He knew the family I needed to be born into, the difficulties I needed to overcome to make me who I am today. God’s reckless, raging love has so captured me. His vastness, goodness, and love overwhelmed me in the woods today.

Before I spoke a word
You were singing over me
You have been so, so
Good to me
Before I took a breath
You breathed Your life in me
You have been so, so
Kind to me

Oh, the overwhelming, never-ending, reckless love of God
Oh, it chases me down, fights ’til I’m found, leaves the ninety-nine
I couldn’t earn it
I don’t deserve it
Still You give yourself away
Oh, the overwhelming, never-ending, reckless love of God

I am thankful for my dad. Thankful for his service to our country and the price that he paid. I am thankful for my dog whom God has used to teach me some lessons and to bring me so much joy. I am thankful for my friend, Todd, whom God used to bring me Thompson. Most importantly, I am thankful for the reckless, raging love of God that has pursued me, protected me and looked out for me throughout the years.

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3 thoughts on “The Tale of a Veteran, His Daughter, and Her Whiskey Dog

  1. Barbara Garrett on said:

    Thank you for memories of Uncle Harry. We got “Buttons” from Uncle Harry. I was six years old, and Buttons died when I was a senior in high school. I guess I always associate Uncle Harry with dogs and love. Love, Cousin Bobbie

  2. Timothy Beeman on said:

    Tim Beeman here in CT. What a wonderful story! We ALL miss Harry. God bless him, and may he rest in peace.

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