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| Our Little Angel. |
You can tell a lot, just by looking at someone. I could tell she was raw, it wasn’t just the eyes that were red from crying. She was fragile, hurt, needing unconditional love.
Instead she was giving it away. To strangers. I was so inspired by how brave, how truly beautiful this woman before me was. Recently divorced. In transition. In some very real ways, alone.
She had enough faith to put an ad on Craigslist in the dreaded Pet Section, offering up her eight-year old, well trained, well behaved, beautiful dog free to a GOOD home. A home that could offer this animal she had loved since it was eight weeks old things that she couldn’t - a fenced yard, kind people who would be home all day to keep it company, perhaps nice children or other dogs to play with from time-to-time.
I sent the ad to my mother, who showed it to my step-father, who replied with great clarity, “I want that dog.” Clarity is a big deal for Tom, he is in the later stages of Alzheimer’s.
When I went to pick up this frisky little schipperke, I also started crying. It was a year ago that I was in a similar situation and gave up my little papillon, Gidget, to someone who gave her a better home than I could offer.
It wasn’t an easy choice, but it was the right one.
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| Tom and his new best buddy. |
I left my mother’s house filled with the appreciation of small miracles. Of the little black buddy who sits on Tom’s lap, looking at the window and pointing out items of interest that help keep Tom alert. She snuggles in next to him, he pets her, endlessly. Beaming.
My mother has that quiet relief that comes with knowing there is another set of eyes and ears to watch him, so she can sneak away to the bathroom for a few minutes to herself without being followed by her anxious husband.
It is such an inconsequential thing it is hardly worth mentioning, a dog passing hands to a new family. So ordinary. So very extraordinary.
