This is the story of golf. And the Veteran’s story. And the story of the prison. And the matter of health. But really, this is a dog story, so let’s start there.
After all, Tommy is a good boy.
Do the floppy ears of a three-year-old yellow lab melt first? Or Ole Black Snout? Maybe it’s the tail that never came with the off switch? But it cannot be argued that he will always know, always understand, always understand the brown eyes that always comfort his celebration of finding the animal behind. Or under the chin. Or receiving treatment; alligator jerky is popular.
The eyes give you that look. You know that one. It connects. It’s binding. Doggos like Tommy never go astray. They are always there.
And Hank Ford desperately needed that catering.
Today, be at their home about a half hour north of Denver, or at Hank’s volunteer work at Coyote Creek Golf, these two talk. Hank would say the words, and Tommy would turn his head and listen. When hank is depressed, Tommy tries to move the steps. There is a shove on the dog’s head. And if that doesn’t work, there’s jump-ling-lap-lap. Everything will be forgotten.
“You can’t help but lose all the animosity you’ve got,” Hank said, “when you’ve got a good-looking dog looking down on you.”
Tommy is a four-legged beat to get up, then.
In more ways than one.
Hank Ford and Tommy, his three-year-old yellow lab.
Dogs inc
For 20 years, Hank said he has been awake. On Aug. 1, 1989, he continued active duty in the march, serving in desert shield and desert storm in Iraq, and in the adriatic sea mission. Four years later, following the military draft, Hank enlisted in the army, where he served for another four years. Beginning in 1997, he served in prison and in the Army Reserve, which included a return to the Middle East, before retiring in 2009. Those are brochures. But this is all that was heard from us:
Buzz. Always a buzz.
Silence follows.
And space. Suffering from PTSD, Hank sought adrenaline, and in the normally calm golf, he found it. The rounds went like this: Tee office, then hit the drink cart. At one point, he was asked to leave the clubhouse. He said he went to the lesson, but he went back and “hit.” “And yes, I mean, alcohol is a good friend,” he said. “You know, I realized I could drink at 8 o’clock in the morning and no one told me not to. And it would wash your mind of the things you were thinking about.”
There was a struggle with it. One got him a job as a volunteer at Coyote Creek; His work in prison helped him break away from the incident, and the course brought him. Only, he said he wanted trouble, not just to respond to it. “I was walking around and I was going to look for a guy who had a small border of beer because we didn’t sell that. But I didn’t have to take care of it. But no, I wanted to take care of it.
“So it got to the point where a pro called me one day and goes, ‘You know, I think you haven’t been socializing.’ And I told him, I said, ‘You know, I agree. I agree.’ And I left.
“And now I didn’t do anything.”
You know where this is going. This is a dog story, remember.
Hank had initial reservations about adopting a service dog. He wants to be strong. But there is strength in numbers, too. He turned around. Then he was considered, after the pupil of TOMMY, Star Pupil of Dogs Inc., and his trainer came to Colorado two years ago.
“Congell cried,” We said, “And I opened the door and you warn me, you say, I’m my dog, and I’m a dog, I say I’m a weasel. leash.
“And he just jumped on my lap and he just started cheating on me because he’s a writer. I started feeling it right away.”
‘It will not be left. ‘It’s grown up. Hank, 54, and Tommy have traveled everywhere together. A restaurant. The bed. They watch football; Hank is a Green Bay Packers fan, and the Jordan Love Touchdown is announced with his screeds and his “zoomies. Finally, Hank is reconnected with Coyote Creek, too. And when you fully see what happened that Hank and Tommy meet. There is silence. Golf, said Hank, who wants to see him. Friends, he said, he has never seen him laugh about anything.
You ask:
Did Tommy save Hank’s life? Did he wake him up?
He says yes. He says he did it. He says he “turned into lights” because of her.
After that Tommy woke him up again.
Hank Ford and Tommy, his three-year-old yellow lab.
Dogs inc
Hank wanted a dog to get him out of bed. After retiring, he said he would go to bed at 2 in the morning and take it out in the afternoon. I won’t do it again. However, the coach was double-checked on his request. And Hank now understands the doubt.
“Every morning, he’ll jump on top of me and his elbows are right next to each other and he’ll just look at me, time to get up.”
On February 7 this year, that is not enough.
Tommy barked again.
And attacked.
And he jumped more.
Find out. At the top.
“I mean, he was scared,” Hank said. “And I’m just like, leave me alone. I don’t want to get up. I was really tired. And there’s no reason for it. And there’s no reason for it.
“And I’m thinking, well, you have to go to the bathroom. I’m not going to make him suffer. And well, he never did it. And then let him do it. And you would bark. And you would bark. And you would bark. And you would bark. And you would bark. And you would bark. And you weren’t going to jump on me. He was doing everything he could.
“So finally, I wake up and stumble to the back door. I open the back door. I’m like, get out.” I’m out. ‘ I’m like, ‘get out, go get busy, get busy.’ He wouldn’t go. And he looks at me and starts jumping. And we have this thing when I’m gone for a while, he can give me a nosebleed.
“This is what he did to my chest.”
As Hank started to wake up, he said he felt dizzy. His heart became “funky.” He touched his carotid – he felt four or five beats at the same time. He got a blood pressure cuff from the VA and checked that – 115 over 150 with a heart rate of 171, “and I like, and I like to be wrong. So I can again.”
He left Tommy.
He went to the hospital. The servants came out and said. The nurse told him he had afib, short for atrial fibrillation, which, according to the Mayo Clinic, is “an abnormal and very common heart rhythm.” The management was working to solve it. He called his wife, Mary. He was coming. He also asked him to bring Tommy. He did. At this point when I was retelling the story, the hank gave chase.
There was his dog. Again.
“He comes through the door,” said Hank, “He pulls down the burning in his hand, jumps on the bed and puts his head on my chest. And then you see his head was a little hard. And then you just see the relaxation.
“How are you, it was like this, that’s where you need to be.”
Later, the doctor told Hank that because he wasn’t waking up at home, he may or may not have had a stroke. But because he was in the hospital, he was able to leave for the day.
Some story, right?
The story of golf. And the Veteran’s story. And the story of the prison. And the matter of health. Everyone’s hearing what happened. Friends, Neighbors. Local media. National media.
But really, this is a dog story, so let’s stop there.
You want to know:
What did Hank tell Tommy?
Something like this.
“I say Tommy you are my best friend and I thank you all the time, you know, for being in my life and saving my life.”
From the chair, Hank called Tommy to jump on his lap. He did.
“Give it to me. Where you’re going. Come on, Buddy.
“Who is your best friend?”
Editor’s note: To learn more about Dogs Inc. Please click here.
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