Kristen S Kuhns [ksk]

 
  City of Birth:
Worthington, Ohio
 
 

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It Has Been A Rough Year

I am adding this additional chapter to my introduction, because after I initially wrote the introduction, it was very difficult to come back to it and try to make sense of all that I have experienced through the various stages of my life and the trials that I have endured or overcome.  I wish ...


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The Birth of Charles Leonard Wiggins

The story has already been written for awhile on my blog "From the heart of Praise, Prayer and Perseverance. 0; Here is a link to that posting, Below are the pictures of the blessed event.   http://fromthehea rt-dotwigg.blogsp ot.com/2008/03/an other-2-prayer-re quest-answered.ht ml


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Kristen's Story > Chapters > My Entire Life

"The first dog I ever knew, Hoppo the Wonder Dog" 

 

Date Range: 01/01/1969 To 12/31/1977   Comments: 0   Views: 17,428
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Apparently (another story that has been told to my chagrin numerous times) when I was brought home from the hospital, the first born, the family mutt slid under the parents' bed and puked. Repeatedly.

Hippo, or Hoppo, was a mangy mutt, a funny, dumb dog. But I remember him well as our first pet and his wiry hair and sloppy lips. My parents taught me respect and love for animals, a gift of which I'm forever grateful. Dogs bring a serenity, a responsibility and a great ability to love and forgive into our lives.

I've had a lot of dogs since Hoppo. But since he was the first, he always has a great place there. I remember too the day he left us. It was cold, winter in the midwest as they used to properly be. Snow, wind. My brother and I were running around the house, probably driving my parents nuts, probably a bit stir crazy being inside. It was evening. And cold.

My brother and I ran into the foyer and pushing each other (probably hard too!) one of us opened the front door and the dog slid out. I remember panicking (don't let the dog out!!!) and calling and calling him all night long, our searchlights striking into that bitter night. We never saw Hoppo again.

Years later a neighbor told my father he found some bones under an old tree. Did he slip out knowing it was his time? Did he hear us calling him? Was he scared, or just accepting. Did our voices and search comfort him? His tail wagging weakly as he slipped away from this world? How I envision such things that still bring me to tears.

"Dogs' lives are too short. Their only fault, really."
~Agnes Sligh Turnbull ...



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