Chris Hammer's Open Salon Blog

Love

Mon, 13 Feb 2012 19:02:19 -0500

Love...it seems of all the over used, and mis-used, words in the English language, this one tops the list.

People love their car, their Kindle, their flat screen. They love the latest movie, restaurant, vacation spot.

I even know people who love the sound of their own voice! But I know very few of you who know what it is to truly love because very few of you bother to take the time to appreciate what it is to receive it - how is it then you can expect to experience it?

So, as people are once again poised on the brink of another Valentine's Day, complete with all the stresses of selecting that "just right" card to attach to that "just right" gift she / he will love, I thought I'd weigh in on the matter of this thing you people call L-O-V-E.

Until recently, I will confess, I thought I knew what love was. I lived in a very upscale house with a very refined, self-made man who treated me well, bought me nice things, said he loved me, blah, blah, blah. And then the years started to pass. I could sense something had changed. There was a distance between us, the nice gifts stopped coming and the I love you was randomly heard anymore. And my affection was, when not coolly rejected, only moderately received.

And then one day I was out. Just like that. No good-bye, no show of any remorse, no sign I'd even be missed or remembered.

But I thought you loved me?, I pleaded. He just turned and walked away.

I tried to be brave. I tried to make a plan for my life, for managing alone but I was no young pup anymore and my hearing was a bit off and my eyesight a bit dim and frankly, my frisky days were pretty well behind me. I sensed there wasn't going to be much love in my life anymore.

And then I met Irving in the park. We became fast friends and he invited me to go home with him. No, I don' tthink so. But he did look so happy...I followed after him to see where he lived. I watched him go inside this rather small, unappealing looking house with its shabby lawn and mangy looking bushes and I thought to myself how could he be happy living there?

I peeked inside the windows; there was an old couch all worn and tattered and a big boxy t.v. with rabbit ears and the carpeting looked all faded and discolored. And then I spotted Irving sitting with a woman in a big overstuffed easy chair, and then I noticed others and they all looked so happy and it hit me; this was love! I was seeing love. For the first time in my life, I recognized love.

I made noise, a lot of noise, so they'd hear me and when the woman opened the door, she didn't ask who I was or where I'd come from or even what I wanted. She just said Well, hello, handsome, we've been waiting for you.

My name is Bixby... I used to have a house now I have a home.

I had to lose all I had to find all I wanted... and had my heart never broken I'd have never found love...

~~~www.irvinghouse.org where love lives and hope shines~~~

Carpe Diem!

Sun, 20 Mar 2011 10:03:45 -0400

Small in stature. Chicho possessed a lion’s heart. When the tubby little Chihuahua decided he wasn’t about to let Annie give up on life, he unexpectedly became the unofficial therapy dog of Irving House.

A senior himself, and fresh from death row, Chicho seemed to have an innate understanding and compassion for Annie’s fragile emotional state following her life-saving, and life-changing, surgery to remove her colon at age seventy-one.

The two met quite by chance when Annie’s caregiver, Chris, also Irving House’s founder, took Chicho along on one of her daily visits designed to get Annie to do her physical therapy that typically ended with Annie’s adamant refusal and weary request to be left alone.

Annie was not immediately delighted by the bouncy little chi who took to running around on his four little legs insistently bringing Annie his ball, yapping at her until she rolled it across the floor for him over and over, passing the hour.

Eventually, their routine grew to include Chicho racing around the dining room where he'd make any kind of noise to make Annie get up and see what he was into, usually a shopping bag, or the laundry basket. It wasn’t long before he learned that if he snatched a bra from the basket Annie would waddle after him with her cane. The faster he ran, the faster she waddled.

She would point her arthritic finger at him and warn “I’m going to get you” and Chicho would walk backwards urging her to try. Days seldom found Annie on the couch anymore – unless it was to give Chicho a brushing and a cookie.

Annie took to talking to the tubby little chi, opening up about her feelings with a trust she didn't seem able to share with any person. Chicho would routinely sit with his head cocked to one side intent on Annie's every word or else, the times Annie needed to release the tears she'd been holding, Chicho would lay quietly with his head in Annie's lap.

The months passed quickly and on a bright and breezy Spring afternoon Annie tied her own sneakers and with Chicho’s leash in one hand and Chris’s hand in the other this lady, who had not been out of her house in over a year, took her first proud steps outside and seized the day!

In less time than seemed possible, Chicho accomplished for Annie what a team of highly trained physical therapists could not – he got her out of her house. he got her walking and doing her exercises and he got her living her life again.

I Promise

Fri, 21 Jan 2011 09:01:31 -0500

If you give me a chance to live, love and play I promise to pay you back in a thousand different ways! I'll lick your face and I'll give you my paw and I promise not to go wee-wee on your nice clean floor. I'm really a nice boy but I'm scared here and confused and I'm scheduled to die because no one wants to love me and I don't understand why.

My name is Budweiser and I'm just a year and a half old white boxer mix and I'm begging you please don't let my life end like this. Can you please help the folks at Irving House to give me a new start...be my forever foster...just give me a chance and open your heart.

If you have room in your heart and your home to be a permanent foster and you would like to help us at Irving House save this beautiful boy's life, please send us an e-mail at info@irvinghouse.org and we will send you a Permanent Foster Agreement.

~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Irving House~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

where special animals are cared for by special people...like you...

www.irvinghouse.org

Table for One

Thu, 18 Nov 2010 13:11:53 -0500

As I prepare to turn fifty in just a week's time, I am most struck by how dramatically my views on life have changed, and while I could easily go on at length in vain attempt to explain, I believe a younger woman put it best last evening....

I was dining out, alone, as is my preference of late, when a group of twenty-something year old's walked past my table. A brief look was exchanged, curious on their part, wry on mine, and at one young woman's commenting on how sad that I had no one to join me, another commented that she didn't think I wanted to be joined and she thought that was so vogue.

It was hard for me not to laugh given that for more years than I am willing to admit, I too thought it sad when I would spy a woman dining alone in a restaurant, or buying only one ticket to a movie, or even cruising the grocery or department store aisles unaccompanied.

How sad I thought it was that she had no one by her side, no one to engage in dinner conversation, no one to offer an opinion on this matter or that. Surely, she was a lonely soul whose only joy in life was derived from the comfort and company of cats waiting at home.

It never occured to me that I would one day be her, or moreover, that I would yearn to join this sisterhood of wise women, these independent, self assured, and confidently accomplished females who proudly answer 'One, please' when asked 'How many?' No timidity in their voice, no lowered head, rather a touch of aristocracy as they take claim of their table for one.

Yes... how vogue indeed...and until my preferred companions are permittted restaurant dining, I'll be taking that bit of leftover salmon home for the cats...

Rocky's on the Ropes

Mon, 18 Oct 2010 12:10:41 -0400

Have you ever been accused of something not your fault? Sucks, right? Rocky thinks so. He's a four year old hound mix rescued from life as a bait dog and put into a home where he was mistreated and forced to fight back. Now he's back at the shelter convicted of a crime he didn't commit and sentenced to death. PLEASE help us at Irving House help Rocky. If you have room in your heart & home be Rocky's IH foster. He's not ready to die.

Well, that's as straightforward as I know how to be. Time is running out for Rocky because he's been deemed aggressive and nobody wants him. In truth, he is a gentle soul who despite being caged and confined to solitary STILL holds out his tugge when he spots the random passer-by. He walks well on leash, doesn't pull or chase, plays well with others and even likes bath time. His favorite thing to do though is to curl up in his blanket next to his human buddy.

So how'd he get the aggressive label? After being rescued from life as a bait dog when a local fighting ring was broken up Rocky was easy to adopt out and placed into a home where the teenage son charged at him, wrestled him into a headlock and slammed him to the floor. When Rocky got up he was disoriented and when the kid charged at him again, Rocky snapped at him. The family returned him to the shelter, told the tale, and Rocky was caged and handed a death sentence.

Rocky is on the ropes...please don't let him go down for the count.

If you have room in your heart and your home, write us at www.irvinghouse.org and we will send you a Foster Agreement because Rocky shouldn't have to pay the price for someone else's crime.