The Angel on My Shoulder

PROLOGUE It was a brisk October evening when Cheryl’s quick steps approached the dimly-lit house in North Adams, Massachusetts. A slight breeze blew the dry, crackling leaves in a circular swirl around her feet and then stilled. She hesitated, nervously glancing up at the clear night sky, the stars like bright diamonds, glittering in the fall blackness. Although nervous, determination to hear her fate overpowered her unease. She squared her shoulders and began walking once again, sneakers crunching along the walkway, approaching the entry of the old house. A woman opened the door, putting her hand out in greeting, “Cheryl?” she asked, “Please, come in.” The words Cheryl would hear from this nationally known psychic would foreshadow all to come. For, years before she met me, years before Rumer entered our lives, the psychic’s words bespoke our future together. That evening, meeting the woman’s kind gaze, Cheryl, suddenly at ease, smiled and stepped forward… BEGINNING: The road to peace, love, and happiness is paved in many forms but sometimes it is in the form of the literal- a plain, old-fashioned paved road. Why can’t we realize for what they are the moments in time that change all that come after, such moments that direct our paths in life to the point of no return, and, in my case, for so much the better? Why can’t we recognize them, appreciate and savor such moments before they’re gone, forever out of our grasp, never again to be relived in quite the same way? Although I’ve traveled many other roads of peace, love, and happiness since, how I wish I could travel that road of February 1992 from Southampton to Amesbury, MA once again. Only this time, I would know to treasure, appreciate, and revere this road every step of the way. Hindsight does this to us, makes us realize what we have missed; yet¸ because of this, it can also help us learn to appreciate the good in our lives, if we let it. Love-of-my-life… did I feel your birth into this world- this monumental moment in time many miles away- that first flicker of a soul born, destined for great things? Did you already feel how very much you would be loved? Did you already know how very much you would change life for so many? Did you realize how special you were right away? Our beautiful New England falls seem the hardest for me. I’m not sure why…maybe it’s the chill in the air, exciting and fresh, the coolness she so loved after the heat of summer. Maybe it is the winding down, the slowing of life after the frenzied burst of the seasons before, readying the land for winter, she supervising all the activity from her place on the golf cart, her Number 8. Maybe it’s Halloween approaching, knowing how much she loved the preparation for our parties, the month of decorating culminating in making her special outfit. And, perhaps, it’s because it’s the season she died. CHAPTER 1 The ad in the Boston Globe was simple: “Pit Bull puppies for sale. Parents on premises.” After calling the number and getting directions, we were off on a 2 ½ hour ride from Southampton, Massachusetts to Amesbury. I glanced up in excitement at the icy blue February sky, wispy clouds like feathers painting the sky with white, as we walked quickly to the car. The bitter cold air was shut out with an emphatic slam of our car doors as Cheryl and I jumped in to begin our drive, the crystal clear blue of the sky stretching forever into the horizon, the feathers pointing the way toward our goal. We couldn’t wait to see the puppies and chattered the whole way, wondering what the dogs would look like, about the puppy we would choose, so excited to pick our new baby out of a litter of 2 ½ week-old pit bull babies. When we reached the farm and pulled into the driveway, we were greeted by fifteen adult pit bulls chained to doghouses in the yard to the left of the house, out of reach of each other by just a few feet. They eagerly began barking, but not in a vicious manner, some of them excitedly leaping straight up in the air against their collars as we rolled to a stop in front of the house. With little knowledge about “pit bulls” going in, I curiously studied them, amazed at the variety of colors and looks among dogs of the same breed. Cheryl was afraid to get out of the car, being afraid of dogs, so I opened the driver’s side door and stepped out into the cold alone. Even with the din of barking, no one came out to greet us, so I approached the side door of the quaint, burgundy, ranch-style house, my feet crunching in the snow, zipping my coat and hunching my shoulders to the cold. As I knocked, I couldn’t help but look in the window, eye level in the door. To my surprise, I met the eyes of the most beautiful dog I had ever seen. He was standing in the kitchen, watching me with keen intelligence just a few feet away. There was no barking, just a steady stare from curious brown eyes. His body was a deep auburn, his face the chiseled beauty of a pit bull- almost human in its shape, his ears cropped. He stood as still and as soundless as air. His gaze stayed on mine as a man approached the doorway. “Hello, there,” came a friendly Yankee accent from this big, burly, surprisingly young farmer. We introduced ourselves and I couldn’t help but comment on the beauty of the dog inside. “This is Teddy Bear,” Wade said as I stepped into the house. “He isn’t one that I’ve bred, but one I’ve taken in,” he said in explanation that he was also the dog officer in town. Teddy Bear was not only beautiful, but was extremely friendly, wiggling and rubbing against me as I scratched his back. His tail was docked and Wade told me that this was highly unusual and only done because the person who had owned him kept him inside and didn’t want him knocking things over. "Normally though," he said, "pit bulls are admired for long, beautiful tails, the longer and more sloping the better." After our greetings and some small talk, Wade asked me to follow him to the far side of the yard where all the puppy kennels were located. I waved for Cheryl to follow and she finally mustered up enough courage to come, following carefully as we meandered through the sea of chained adults. As we passed through, we were sniffed and licked vigorously by any tongue that could reach us. Neither one of us felt anything but good intentions from the dogs, and not even Cheryl was afraid anymore. I couldn't imagine anyone being afraid when faced with such joyful greetings. I found that I just had to stop and pet such sweet dogs that vied so ardently for our attention, trying all kinds of clownish behavior. Not one was aggressive in any way and I commented on this fact to Wade, unable to believe myself just how friendly his dogs were. Having not had much experience with the breed, my main experience being the horror stories I had read, I had not known what to expect. Wade agreed telling us that, because of their nature and how friendly they are, his dogs have been stolen numerous times. That’s why they were chained with thick locks on their collars. The chains were as thick as my forearms, their dragging having removed all of the grass from around each of the 15 doghouses, the dirt strewn with cow bones as big and as long as my thighs. Wade stopped at one dog and told us that this was the father of the babies from which we would be choosing. His name was Steamer. Steamer was just as beautiful as Teddy Bear but in different ways. He was very light, a vanilla color, with black-rimmed eyes that were the color of milk chocolate and the shape of almonds, and a black nose. He was shorter and stockier where Teddy Bear was taller and leaner. His muzzle was shorter and more full with the tip of his nose lifting just a bit. I kneeled in front of him and placed my hand on his head to pet him, my hand dwarfed by its massive size. He couldn’t st