Daisy Mae

I looked out the window this morning, holding my piece of toast, ready for the last couple of bites before going upstairs to shower and dress for work. The creek bordering our rear property line was high with a strong current flowing from three days of rain. Something caught my eye on the lip of the embankment, it was at a crook in the creek just before the downed tree spanning the south and north banks. It was a dog desperately trying to crawl out of the water onto dry land, it was in distress and it couldn’t make it.

Down on the kitchen counter went my toast, I went down to the garage, slipped into my gardening shoes, and out the back I went in my pajamas. The white dog with brown spots was frantically trying to pull itself out, but its hind legs kept slipping on the muddy embankment. Into the creek I went, grabbed the dog by its hind quarters, and lifted it out of what was likely certain death – the poor thing was exhausted. If it hadn’t been on the tall side it may have drowned – how long had it struggled?

I asked it to come with me up to the house, it balked until I spoke “dog” to it, then it followed. Dog people know what it is to speak “dog”, it’s a certain tone of voice that translates English, or any native language, into the universal language of dogs.

It trusted me into our storage room. I turned the light on and left it for a few minutes and then returned with bedding, food, and water.

My pajamas were cold and wet with leaves and debris from the creek on them, the water was almost up to my knees. I put them in the washer and went upstairs to get ready for work, mentioning to Vickie in passing that I’d had an adventure – which I explained to her before leaving the house. Also, before I left for work, when we prayed we prayed that the dog would be returned to her home.

The dog had a collar but no ID or dog tags, so Vickie said she’d call the county animal control people.

Around 9:30 the animal control officer showed up. On his way to our home he saw posters on trees and poles with a description of a missing dog named Daisy Mae. He asked our house guest, “Are you Daisy Mae?” Even though he spoke “dog” the dog didn’t answer him. He put the dog in his truck, drove to the end of our driveway, and was met by a lady in an SUV who stopped and got out of her vehicle.

“Do you have my dog?” she asked. “I’m looking for Daisy Mae.”

Sure enough, it was Daisy Mae I’d pulled from the creek. The lady thanked the officer and Vickie, and put Daisy Mae in her SUV where she was greeted by a Lab excited to see her dog sister back. Daisy Mae lived down the road a piece so she’d been doing some traveling during her four days on the run – I wonder if she had been up-creek and swept down by the strong current? How much longer could she have held out on the embankment?

I haven’t written anything in a while, not much blogging lately – this seemed to be a good reason to get the keyboard out.

I must say that it was a nice way to start the day and we’re thankful Daisy Mae got home. There is so much misery in the world, including the animal kingdom, that’s it nice to do a little something to help people and animals along. It's also great to see prayers answered.