I was already in bed asleep when my phone rang. I did not recognize the number on my call display but answered the call anyway. When the speaker identified himself as a police officer, the little hairs on the back of my neck stood up. Calls from law enforcement are never good, especially when they come late at night.

He informed me that a former work colleague had been taken into custody and admitted to the hospital. Would I come pick up her dog and keep him until “the situation was resolved”?

Whatever that meant.

I tried to get more details so I could assess the situation before saying yes or no. The officer was tight-lipped and equally persistent, “Look, miss, if you don’t come and get him, I will have no other choice but to take the little fella to the pound. And the owner said you offered to look after her dog in case of an emergency.”

When did I make that promise?

I had not seen Barb or dogsat her toy rat terrier in at least 5 years.

Oh God. How do I say no? I am already overwhelmed; I cannot cope with yet one more thing to look after.

The officer interpreted my silence as consent – “So how long will it take you to get here?”

Isn’t it strange how situations come into your life when you are least equipped to manage them?

Thankfully, Rocky was a by-your-side kind of guy. He slept with me (when my teenage daughter allowed him) and curled up beside me when watching movies. He followed me from room to room, supervising my tasks: making beds, cleaning the toilet, and doing the dishes.

When I came through the door after work, Rocky’s whole back end wagged in tandem with his tiny tail. He circled my feet, pressing himself against my shins, before sitting to watch me take off my boots.

My daughter was fifteen, the age where eye rolls outnumber smiles. She spent her time with friends, at school, at work, or hanging out in her room attached to her phone. Bottomline, her mother was not all that interesting to her.

During the few weeks Rocky lived with us, I did not feel so alone. He became my faithful companion.

Fostering Rocky was like caring for my daughter as an infant. I adjusted to Rocky’s basic needs (feeding, walking, pooping, playing, and cuddling). In doing so, my own attention shifted away from stress and discord, at home and at work.

On that dark and stormy night, when I agreed to care for Rocky “until the situation was resolved,” I could not imagine what had happened leading up to this crisis moment. Barb had been a person I highly respected for the care, compassion, and strength she offered her clients. Even so, the situation with Barb soon became complicated. I needed to mediate with police, SPCA officers and veterinarians on her and Rocky’s behalf.

The day after I picked up Rocky, an SPCA officer knocked on my door to inform me that Rocky was “on their radar “ and recently assessed as needing dental surgery. Furthermore, since he was now in my care, it was my responsibility to cover his veterinary bills. The other choice would be to surrender him to the SPCA immediately.

I signed the paper without a clue of how I could pay for the surgery. I knew Barb could not either. My own financial situation was precarious at the time, and Christmas was coming.

A couple of days later, I woke up and felt  Rocky’s warm body nestled at my feet. His life upturned, yet he slept peacefully. I lay still, not wanting to disturb Rocky. I watched the snow fall. And I prayed.

As if aware that I was thinking about him, Rocky wriggled up the bed and snuggled under my arm. His little black nose peeked out from beneath the covers.

The lyrics of my favourite Christmas carol came to mind.

And all through the night, he stayed at her side,

And he kept them safe with his heart of gold,

And kept them warm in the winter’s cold,

And the gift he gave was his faithful soul,

There at the feet of God.

I brought Rocky to my jobsite each workday. I did not want him to feel alone in an unfamiliar home. Fortunately, the clients and staff at the mental health team received him well. His story touched the social workers and nurses on my team. Calls placed. Resources rallied. Rocky had his surgery the next week- donations and an incredibly special veterinary team covered all costs.

“It is the best present ever. A real-life miracle.” Barb said every time we spoke on the phone. For my part, I marvelled at the Advent timing.

Rocky, the faithful companion, and Barb reunited just before Christmas.

 

A writing prompt for you:

Write about a time when an animal has lifted your spirits or taught you a sacred lesson.

Do you believe animals have souls? Why or why not?

 

Listen to The Carol of the Stable Dog by Corlynn Hanney

 

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