Finding a Friend in the Forest by Dean B. Bennett book Review

'Finding a Friend in the Forest' by Dean B. Bennett is the story of a

couple who spend time at a cabin in the woods and their observation of a relationship between their dog and a dear. This is based on true events and is one of those happy stories that are great for children. 

Past that this is a nice wide format book with rich illustrations perfect for bedtime story reading.  It's a nice calming tale that will help put your child to sleep. 

Who should read this book? Everyone

Books read: 120 of 5000

It is Done

This is my old Gus sleeping in the tomato plants. He looks so peaceful. I miss him so. 

3^rd January 2015

Dear Cassi,

Well, it happened, August the dogust, my old Gus, is no more. It had already been done when I got up and Pickle came and took me his collar so I could inform animal control that we no longer had a Doberman Pincher. Pony Girl came and took all the old dog food and dog medication. She got all the dog bowls and such and we were left with the feeling that we would never have another dog in this house.

Pickle cried, but I did my crying the night before, and so I poured the whisky. Forgiven by Wild Turkey was our drink of choice, and we had it with butter scotch cream soda. Pickle kept it going with every kind of alcohol we had in the house to numb the pain of putting the old dog down.

Me, I had a beer to chase the whisky, but spirits never did live in me. I have always gone to my grief alone and so doing so meant keeping my strength in company. I had dishes to do and food to cook with no time for my morning. I guess you know that feeling.

Stay strong, little sister,

Richard Leland Neal

Last Night On Earth

2^nd January 2015

Dear Cassi,

       

I bopped off to the store this morning in the hunt for American made frying pans. The Chinese pans tend to bend under fire and I really haven’t tried pans from any other country. Pickle had two pans that started to peal leaving black flakes in his food.

       

I found my American pans and got two for him to replace those that I had deemed unsafe. When Pickle asked how much he owed me I said, “I’ll trade you the pans for more bones for Gus.”

       

Seeing as the dog had only one more day in this world Pickle agreed and we went off to have ribs. We went to a restaurant that I had introduced him to in historic up town and both had a full rack of baby back ribs.

       

Stuffed to near bursting we came home, and I fed the old dog who wagged his stump of a tail. I went to sleep knowing that my old dog’s last night on earth would be a happy one and then I cried. I cried for Gus and my old lab Pork Chop, and my little tuxedo cat Hyde. I cried for my calico Cheshire and my Russian Blue Swift. I cried one tear for each pet I’ve lost in the last ten years. Then I told myself I had no right to cry.

       

Exhausted, I fell to sleep and woke not long before now. I’m off to work before I give my old Gus is last load on bones and tuck him in one last time.

Moments are priceless, little sister,

Richard Leland Neal

The Sick Old Dog

First of the New Year 2015

Dear Cassi,

 I came home to dog mess on my floor and woke up to a dog covered in his own bowel movements. Pickles, I think I’ll start calling him Pickle, was beside himself on handling this happening. Fellow has no idea what a mop looks like or how to mop up a mess. This meant that he waited for me to rouse to clean up a slick of dog fudge in front of the hall washroom.

In the last few days old Gus has on earth he shouldn’t spend them covered in his own excrement. Then, Pickle should be better at looking after his dog. What a way to start a year, hmm, mucking up dog’s mess and dealing with a child in a man’s body.

In any case, I mopped the brown off the floor and cleaned with ammonia to get the stink out then washed up my old Gus as best I could. He was so light I could stick him under one arm and move him and in so bad shape that he sat where I put him for the rest of the day.

I’m going to miss that old dog when he’s gone.

Love those you have, little sister,

Richard Leland Neal

Wounded Dog

10^th November 2013

Dear Cassi,

       

Pork Chop’s wound is a bloody mess. I woke to find that he had bled all over the garage and left stains on the concrete in the side run. I made a pressure bandage for him but he rustled it off so I went to the store and got things for another. This held, but I could see the blood coming through the gauze pads I had used.

       

My first try at this involved confectioner’s sugar, paper towels, and a pressure band I use for my back. The powder would dry minor bleeding and the sugar would stop infection, but there was just too much blood. The end result of this looked much worse than it was as a glob of the sugar was soaked with blood hanging from the dogs face. It looked like a chunk of skin.

       

At the vet they told me to put pressure on the wound if it bled more and so I have to no result. After fifteen hundred dollars this should have been a clean deal but no. My dog’s blood has stained the walls of my home. I have done all I can to stop the bleeding. 

       

My end result was a bandage that looked like it would hold rather well, but there was just so much bleeding. I’m spend and in hard need for sleep now, Cassi, but I know I need to take the dog to the vet shortly.

No fear, little sister,

Richard Leland Neal

Make the Best of Life

16^th September 2013

Dear Cassi,

       

I was roused today by Pickles calling me to tell me that Pork shop had injured his leg, but when I got out of bed the overweight Labrador was walking fine. I gave the old dog a pat on the head and went about my day as normal.

       

I took him for a short walk after walking the Doberman and Pork chop could hardly make it down the street. The Labrador could hardly walk when I found him wandering the streets and even now struggles with rising and sitting, so this gave me no cause to worry over the big blob of brown fur.

       

As the sun set I took it as a time to give the dog an evening walk, but as I stroked his coat to wake him I felt something like mud in his fur. On investigation I found what looked like an old puncture were the skin had died and left a bald spot that now looked inflamed. I probed this some and removed clods of blood stained fur until I could see the skin clearly.

       

The area was swollen and red looking something like a boil and I pressed it seen blood and infection make its way free until the wound was less bulging. Then on the dog’s leg I found a lump that burst in my hand. A hot pink sludge covered my fingers, but I could tell the wound was still harboring fester, and so I pressed with my poor dog giving out a small whimper.

       

The gore on my hands was unsettling and my old lab will have some hard days to come but the condition is not life threatening.  This dog has lived a hard life that left him with scars and places that will grow pus for years. Still, he is a happy old thing and that is all we can hope for.

Make the best of life, little sister,

Richard Leland Neal

Wound

The animal I talk about in this letter is long dead but he died in his sleep. It was

a peaceful death for a much loved animal and I do miss him so.

8th November 2013

Dear Cassi,

I went to the vet today because Pork Chop had a wound on the side of his face. I found it a few days ago as a lump down near his chin and when I put pressure on it the thing burst covering my hand with blood. He’s had bleeding wounds before so I thought very little of this but last night I noted a smell coming from the area.

My first thought was to wash the wound but that did almost nothing. The smell was gone for a few hours but came back before I left for work that night. So this morning when I came home I loaded the dog into the car and was there as the vet opened.

They told me that he had ulcerated tumors around where the pit-bull had mulled him and they had to be removed. This would run me more than a thousand dollars but Pork Chop needed it.

They took a blood sample and told me to come back the next day. That alone ran me two hundred dollars. I have to admit then I wasn’t expecting this but at least I know the poor dog will get what he needs. Ken told me he wouldn’t live this long but well he defied the odds I guess.

It comes to me that people are always telling me my pets are going to die. What’s up with that? Why is everyone so dismal?

Take it as it comes, little sister,

Richard Leland Neal

Sick Old Boy

5^th August 2013

Dear Cassi,

         

If there is one thing I can tell you about old Porkchop the Bear Dog it’s that he is a sickly fellow. Over the weekend, he developed an abscess on his cheek that looked like an irregular tumor. It was a red-purple node of infected flesh about the size of a large grape. A second point of infection protruded from his ear. This second point was yellow and about the thickness of a stalk of hay.

         

I knew that a trip to the vet would run me at least three hundred dollars and that his problem wasn’t life threatening.  I decided to bleed the infection before putting the money into him as, well, I could do better things for my dog with three hundred dollars.

         

A word I picked up from the veterinarian is ‘express’ as in ‘I need to express the wound’ this is a fancy way of saying ‘milk it to get the infection out’. When I expressed the smaller wound it gave off yellow goop and went away but the larger wound was more persistent.

         

There was more blood than infection is this bizarre growth and expressing this was complicated as there were multiple sacs of fluid. When I cleaned the wound with peroxide I could see between four and six small holes where the fluid had come out. Every few hours I drained and cleaned his wound again. The big brown dog seemed to realize this was for his own good as once I even think he went to sleep.

         

The worst of these happenings for me was when the yellow goo hit me in the eye and made me weary of looking after the dog. Thankfully his infection is unlikely to transfer.

Hope he gets better, little sister,

Richard Leland Neal

Demonic Dog

My Dog is a Mammal

 

Three Good Dogs

14^th January 2012

Dear Cassi,

When I was a boy my mother bred boxers. They were big lovable dogs to my young eyes and even as I have little memory of the three dogs that belonged to her they are still a fond thought. She named them Bessy, Beoly, and Butch. Butch the only male was the last and only dog to die of old age.

Bessy and Beoly met tragic ends. One was killed by a car when she ran into the street. The other dog ran into a burglar who kicked her in the jaw and killed her. She would have torn into him, I’m sure, but he wasn’t even steeling from my house.

Well, as I said old Butch was the last of my mother’s dogs to walk this world. In his old age he developed tumors on his paws that broke open and bled. Old Butch was not one to whimper, so he never made much mind of them.

I recall the day he passed. I had just gotten those dog treats that look like little O bone stakes and had put them out for him when he just lay down. His eyes were open and to my young mind I had no idea what to think of his lethargy. I tried to put a dog treat in his mouth, but he sat still.

My mother came out and took him away and told me that he had died. Mom was never one to mess about with facts. She never told us about the tooth fairy, and she never said that our dog would go to heaven.

    

All things that live must someday die, and Butch had a good death. I recall no tears for the old dog as his passing was so slalom and gentle. We should all hope to go so well.

Stay safe, Cassi,

Richard Leland Neal