Our house had been dark, quiet, and overflowing with grief after our loss of Wheaton. I realized that it’s been maybe 30 years or more since we haven’t had any dog in the house. Our loss was even more greatly felt, given Wheaton’s always-sunny nature and his boundless, obvious happiness at just being with us.
But God already had plans that we wouldn’t be left alone for long.
A friend of ours just got married and her new husband had a dog who had been left alone all the time while he was off to work. Would we like to meet her?
Hope dawned in our hearts; could this be God acting in our lives, to help with this abject, crushing grief? We looked past the questions in our minds, and tentatively said yes.
A short time later, our front door opened, and in shyly walked Dara: a ‘mutt’, a mixture of what appears to be Aussie, Spaniel, and maybe a bit of Golden. Her shorter, sturdy legs carried a compact body and soft furry head with big soulful eyes; her Aussie-type tail wagging slowly. She went right to my wife, cuddling up and appreciating any and all attention she got. You could see her looking into my wife’s eyes, trying to understand what she might be thinking.
Meanwhile, I sat down on the top step of the two-steps-down to our living room, to not seem intimidating. It took her a few moments to realize that I was there, then she came over to the top step, sat down next to me, and as I petted her, she leaned gently up against me, somehow sensing our sadness. Once she had just enough from me, she went right back to my wife’s side for a few minutes, then came right back to me, leaning in again. And she gave me that piercing, direct look, as if understanding that I hurt, and needed a furry friend.
Our hearts melted.
Meet Dara. Our new, forever-friend. In her new forever-home.