It was a cold December afternoon as Mom and I drove home from an errand run. Both northbound lanes were stopping and starting erratically. Suddenly the cars in front of us sped away revealing the cause of the slowdown -- a medium-sized, brown dog stood bewildered in the gutter on our side of the highway.
She was stockily built and wore a chain collar dragging a leather leash. You could see at a glance that she had recently had puppies. She had apparently been wandering in the road and the drivers had stopped while she tried to figure out where to go.
“We need to stop,” Mom and I said almost together, pulling into a handy forest preserve parking area. “Father, what is your plan?” I asked, getting out of the car. That quick prayer set the tone for the next five minutes.
I ran along the grassy shoulder after the dog who was already headed south, fortunately still on the side of the highway. “Here Girl!” I called louder and louder till she heard and turned around. She waited. I kept talking to her.
“Thank you, Father, she’s waiting!” I said. She let me pick up the end of her leash, and agreed to step on the grassy shoulder. But she didn’t want to walk in the direction of my car. She felt she needed to go the other way. My mom approached and talked to her. She came with us a few steps and stopped. This girl was too heavy to pick up and carry.
“Father?” I quietly asked. Just then a woman pulled up and rolled down her window. Amazingly, there was almost no traffic behind her, so we could have this conversation.
“Do you need help?” she asked. “I saw the dog in the road and turned around and came back.” I said I wasn’t sure, that the dog didn’t want to come.
Checking for traffic in her rearview mirror, the woman swept clutter off the front passenger seat and said, “See if she’ll get into the car.” This was someone who was familiar with dogs.
I opened the door, patted the seat, and the dog jumped in. “Good girl!” the woman said as I flipped her the leash and closed the door. “Sit,” she said. The dog sat. I waved as she rolled up the window and drove off with the dog on the front seat.
Part of our job was done. The dog out of traffic. This next stranger had appeared and was taking the her on the next part of her journey. The woman could ask any vet to see whether the dog had an identification chip, in which case they could try to contact the owner.
Cynics could offer criticism at this point. But Mom and I had to trust our initial prayer, “Father, what is your plan?” And this was the second part of our job: to continue our prayers for the dog, and to expand them to including all who were homeless, to find their right home. That was perhaps the most important part of the episode.
She was stockily built and wore a chain collar dragging a leather leash. You could see at a glance that she had recently had puppies. She had apparently been wandering in the road and the drivers had stopped while she tried to figure out where to go.
“We need to stop,” Mom and I said almost together, pulling into a handy forest preserve parking area. “Father, what is your plan?” I asked, getting out of the car. That quick prayer set the tone for the next five minutes.
I ran along the grassy shoulder after the dog who was already headed south, fortunately still on the side of the highway. “Here Girl!” I called louder and louder till she heard and turned around. She waited. I kept talking to her.
“Thank you, Father, she’s waiting!” I said. She let me pick up the end of her leash, and agreed to step on the grassy shoulder. But she didn’t want to walk in the direction of my car. She felt she needed to go the other way. My mom approached and talked to her. She came with us a few steps and stopped. This girl was too heavy to pick up and carry.
“Father?” I quietly asked. Just then a woman pulled up and rolled down her window. Amazingly, there was almost no traffic behind her, so we could have this conversation.
“Do you need help?” she asked. “I saw the dog in the road and turned around and came back.” I said I wasn’t sure, that the dog didn’t want to come.
Checking for traffic in her rearview mirror, the woman swept clutter off the front passenger seat and said, “See if she’ll get into the car.” This was someone who was familiar with dogs.
I opened the door, patted the seat, and the dog jumped in. “Good girl!” the woman said as I flipped her the leash and closed the door. “Sit,” she said. The dog sat. I waved as she rolled up the window and drove off with the dog on the front seat.
Part of our job was done. The dog out of traffic. This next stranger had appeared and was taking the her on the next part of her journey. The woman could ask any vet to see whether the dog had an identification chip, in which case they could try to contact the owner.
Cynics could offer criticism at this point. But Mom and I had to trust our initial prayer, “Father, what is your plan?” And this was the second part of our job: to continue our prayers for the dog, and to expand them to including all who were homeless, to find their right home. That was perhaps the most important part of the episode.
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