It was the weekend after Thanksgiving and Louise was walking her black and tan cocker spaniel mix through the hilly woods on her property in the back. It was a cool morning with thin mists creeping over the grass and curling through the trees.

Before leaving the house, Louise put a yellow jacket on her furry companion. His fur girl was called Daisy and she didn’t like the cold. Louise liked the bright color because it made spotting Daisy easier if she was chasing a ball into nearby brush and trees.

Just yesterday, the last of his visitors, his daughter and grandson, had flown home. As always when the family visited her, in her absence, Louise felt a little lonely. Spending quality time with Daisy drove away those sad feelings.

Daisy was a gift that Louise gave herself. About a year earlier, while exploring a new shopping mall, Louise walked into the pet store. To her delight, the dogs and puppies from the local kennel were there for adoption.

In an enclosure with a small door was a 10-month-old puppy with bulging eyes and silky fur. Soon it will be Louise’s puppy: Daisy. Louise was 60 years old and the pup was young enough to grow old together. In no time they became the best of friends and kindred spirits.

Daisy brought Louise an old tennis ball that she found in the bushes. Pranced on her front legs, the little dog panted happily, waiting. Muttering words of love to her fur girl, Louise leaned down and scooped up the ball, then tossed it into a thicket of young evergreens. Daisy trotted after him, tail up and wagging.

When Daisy didn’t return, Louise decided to find out what was keeping her. He wasn’t far into the woods when he heard the screech of the car’s brakes. Worry quickened her steps and when Louise reached the top of a hill, at the bottom, shrouded in mist, a yellow blur caught her eye. When he reached the dirt road he saw the motionless body of his precious Daisy.

His little girl was still breathing. Louise picked her up and within minutes Louise was driving to Daisy’s vet. It was a half hour drive and during that time Louise was checking on her fur girl. She had covered Daisy with a woolen blanket. But every time Louise gently put a hand on Daisy’s shoulder, she felt her body go cold and her breathing became shallower.

When Louise entered the office, Daisy complained and it tore Louise’s heart. The vet immediately took them in and, after a quick examination, confided in them that it would be best to put Daisy down. It was beyond the ability of a vet to cure her.

Later, in agony, Louise walked out of the pet hospital sobbing in disbelief and outrage.

*~*

Two weeks later, Louise went back to the vet’s office to pay the bill. She had left so upset that she forgot to pay the money she owed for Daisy’s last visit.

Louise told the receptionist why she was there. The lady behind the counter shook her head… “There’s no charge. I’m so sorry, Louise!” She stood up and reached across the counter to hug the older woman. Louise started to thank him, but sobs knotted the words in her throat. At that moment the bell on the door rang as a man and a woman entered the waiting room.

Trembling in the man’s arms was a small and older dog. His lineage was questionable, possibly some dachshund. It had soft, wispy, reddish fur that stood on end at odd angles.

The couple approached the counter and was quick to explain why they were there. His father had passed away the day before. The dog was theirs and they didn’t know what to do with it.

They told the receptionist that since it was close to Christmas and with funeral arrangements requiring their attention, they didn’t have time to take care of the dog. They also didn’t have any family members willing to take in the elderly dog. They suggested euthanasia as a possible solution.

Louise looked up to see the dog’s eyes scanning the room nervously. The poor thing was scared to death. She began to moan softly, and the lonely sound tore at her heart. “What’s your name?” he told the couple.

“Preston” the man murmured. The vet entered the room and the man handed him a bottle of pills and the dog. Without another word, the two walked out the door.

“Oh, let me hug him,” Louise stammered. He looked at the old dog through tear-washed eyes: tears for his Daisy, tears for this abandoned soul with no one to hum and caress the tremors.

The vet placed the little groomer in Louise’s arms and then studied the medicine bottle. It contained half a bottle of thyroid pills. “Louise,” he said. “Let me examine it, run some tests, then it’s all yours.”

*~*

A month later, Louise returned for more thyroid medication. Preston smartly followed her on his leash. The vet greeted her. Joy flooded her expression as she told him how happy she was to have Preston in her life. Then suddenly tears welled up in her eyes. He asked her why she was crying.

“Last month a small, old dog was at everyone’s mercy and unwanted. I’m an older woman and could easily be at someone’s mercy, unwanted and alone. I thought a younger dog would suit me better, but it wasn’t.” So”. It is not necessarily true. Pain and belief are powerful teachers.”

The vet smiled and his eyes were full of deep understanding. He nodded his head.

“I will open my doors to other senior dogs who need a home with a kindred spirit. I will touch more lives in this way and my life will be enriched beyond measure by the love I will share.” Louise handed the head back to the vet, then looked at Preston. “You know, sometimes we see more clearly through tear-washed eyes…”

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copyright 2007 kathy pippig harris