Blind Hope: An Unwanted Dog & the Woman She Rescued (18 page)

We started down the trail again. “I’m happy …” I spoke over my shoulder. “Girl, I’m so happy at how Mia’s helping you to open up. As you already know, a closed heart only knows loneliness. It takes an open heart to receive gifts like hope and love, peace and joy.”

“You’re right,” she said from behind me. “What I’m starting to grasp for the first time is that love doesn’t just come in; we choose to let it in. Letting love in is now something that I’m working on. I need to choose to let love in.”

I turned in my saddle to look back at Laurie. Her expression made me think she was mentally putting up a Post-it note with that same message across her heart. Note to self:
let love in!

She gave me a weak smile. “It’s the funniest thing. Issues I’ve tripped over most of my life, while spinning around in confusion, my dog does naturally. Experiencing things like love, peace, and joy aren’t hard for her at all. I think love is so complex, yet my dog demonstrates that it can also be simple. Mia
constantly shows me how easy it is to fill one’s life with what actually matters, like being content with what you have. I’ve struggled with being content, but my dog hasn’t. For her, contentment is effortless. I want to be like that. I want to have that same peaceful awareness.

“Almost every day she proves how things like sprawling in the sun can be one of the greatest treasures there is. I love it when Mia is resting outside in the yard. I can see her turning her head to catch the sound of the wind moving through the trees.

“Sometimes I see her tip her head completely sideways when she hears a favorite word, like
walk
. Maybe the greatest insight of all her dog wisdom is, if you love someone, let them know. There’s no time like the present for a well-placed lick on the chin.”

Laurie snickered. “Because of a dog, I now understand that a sincere kiss, no matter how stinky, is more valuable than gold.”

Mia’s days were numbered.

That painful fact spurred Laurie to live more in the moment. Without trying, Mia challenged her master to make every ounce of time count, really count. Laurie understood that any day she and her dog spent together could be their last.

Late one afternoon, Laurie noticed that Mia didn’t seem quite right. Laurie tried to soothe her mild concern by telling herself that her dog had just had a busy day and was probably tired. But Mia’s odd behavior continued into the evening; she grew more and more restless. Instead of lying quietly next to Laurie’s feet, Mia constantly shifted her weight, often getting up and roaming around the house. Laurie took her outside a few times, thinking maybe she was going to be sick, but the strange searching behavior only continued outdoors.

Laurie checked and rechecked Mia’s medication schedule.
Okay, everything is fine with her meds. I didn’t miss anything. I know she hasn’t eaten anything she shouldn’t have. Her amount of exercise hasn’t varied much. She should be fine
.

By the time Laurie was getting ready for bed, Mia was nowhere to be found. An anxious search revealed that she had crawled into the back of Laurie’s small closet. Mia had never removed herself like this before. “Oh, girl, what’s going on? This isn’t where you belong. What are you trying to tell me?”

Laurie had owned a dog in her youth and understood that a setting of privacy would probably herald how Mia would choose to leave this life. Dogs possess a sense of their own end
and often will hide away from those they love when the time comes. Laurie refused to accept that possibility. She didn’t want it to be true, not today.

Laurie pushed open the closet door a bit wider and sat down on the tan carpet next to Mia. She stroked her dog’s lowered head and whispered her agony. “It can’t be time, Mia. Not now. You’re doing so well. Please don’t go. Please don’t leave.”

Mia didn’t stir, didn’t have the energy even to respond. Her tail, which normally wagged behind her, now lay limp on the floor.

Laurie spoke again to Mia in whispers. “Come on, girl. Come with me.”

Still no response. Her one remaining eye focused on nothing.

Laurie tried a different tactic. “Come on, Mia. It’s time to go to bed.” She crawled out of the closet, hoping Mia would follow as she always had.

Mia hesitated, then rallied herself. Step by slow step, she followed Laurie out of the closet and found her place on the plush oval dog pillow beside Laurie’s bed. That is where she had slept nearly every night since she and Laurie had been together.

Laurie lay on the floor, her arms around her dog, assuring Mia of her love. After Mia settled into sleep, Laurie went back into the bathroom to finish her preparations for bed.

When Laurie returned to the bedroom, the dog bed was empty. Mia was gone.

She had retreated back into the closet. This time Mia had curled up in an incredibly small place in the very back corner. “Please, Mia, please … Please come.”

But Mia didn’t respond.

Laurie collapsed under the weight of her sorrow. “No, Mia. No, not now, not yet.” She ran her hand over her dog’s soft coat.

“I’m not ready to say good-bye.” She laid her head on Mia’s warm body. “Please, please don’t go.”

Laurie started to crawl away, begging Mia to follow, but this time her dog couldn’t oblige her.

Mia was no longer able to crawl out to Laurie … so Laurie crawled in to her. Together they lay in the corner of the closet—a broken dog cradled in the arms of a broken girl.

“My little dog … You’ll always be my little blind dog.”

At first, Laurie wanted to encourage Mia to fight for her life. Yet on the heels of that yearning came an even stronger desire. It was her greater hope that the companion she loved so much wouldn’t suffer.

Who am I to determine what should happen? Mia is the only one who can make that choice—to fight for more time or to let go. It’s not my decision—it is Mia’s
.

If this was going to be her beloved dog’s final night, Laurie wanted her to understand that she was cherished right up to the very end. She wanted Mia to know that she was loved and treasured, that her example of life had changed Laurie’s outlook. This kind dog had helped a lost woman understand that it’s not the outside package that makes people valuable; it’s the truth, the hope, and the new heart that beats within them. All these things she had found in the loving arms of God.

Laurie sat in the darkened closet and cried. She hoped that Mia would be calmed by the soft, rhythmic strokes of her master’s hand over the top of her head. In the lowest of tones, Laurie sang songs that had always filled her aching heart with comfort. She sang songs to God, songs that promised peace for her struggling girl. Bending down, Laurie moved her lips close to her dying dog’s ear, making sure Mia heard her every word.

“My precious girl, you’re the best dog in the world. Sweet baby, I love you.”

Laurie watched as Mia slipped into a peaceful sleep. She cupped Mia’s face with both hands and offered one final prayer, knowing this would be their last moment together.

“Thank you, God, for allowing me to know Mia and for
blessing my life by letting me take care of her during our short time as a family. Thank you, Lord, for showing me a deeper glimpse of who you are through this little blind dog … Thank you … thank you.”

The murmured words mixed with her silent tears. When Laurie finished praying, she bent down even farther and gently, repeatedly kissed Mia’s nose and muzzle. Finally she pressed her wet cheek against Mia’s face and just held her.

“I love you, Mia. I love you, sweet girl. You will always be my precious girl … I love you.” Laurie wanted a message of loving adoration to be the last thing Mia heard.

Laurie slipped out of the closet and into her bed. She cried long into the darkness, mournful sobs of anguish and grief. Her friend was dying. She tried to console her breaking heart by focusing on the fact that, for the last several months, Mia had been greatly loved. She wouldn’t die alone under a bush or an old car. Laurie reminded herself that Mia was cradled in a warm, safe place with the one person who loved her, and now she was in a deep, tranquil sleep. Laurie wept until she had no more tears.

Morning came too soon, with the light from Laurie’s bedroom window still flat and gray. The radiant warmth of the sun had not yet reached into her world of sorrow. In the silence of
the early dawn, Laurie lay motionless, emptied and exhausted, trying to comprehend all that had happened.

Did I do it right, God? Did I look after her enough? Did she know how much she was loved?

Finally, the light in her window began to glow with the golden promise of a new day. There would always be a new day. Laurie prayed out of her aching heart. “Oh, God, I need your help. I don’t know how to do this. I don’t know how to push through this grief.”

Laurie rolled to the side of her bed—and froze. Her eyes remained fixed on the floor, stunned by the sight. Apparently, at some point during the night, Mia had rallied long enough to relocate herself, as close to Laurie as she could get. She lay curled up on the floor, only inches away from the bed.

“Oh, Mia … My precious Mia,” Laurie whispered.

It took a moment before she could muster the will to touch her. Finally, leaning over to stroke her beloved dog one last time, Laurie touched Mia’s head. She was surprised by a hint of warmth.

“Oh, God.” She spoke aloud to him. “If only I’d known earlier that she was here, I could’ve held her as she died.” The fact that Laurie had missed Mia’s passage by moments wounded her heart even deeper.

She touched Mia again.

Under her hand, she felt a twitch, ever so slight.

What’s happening?
She jerked her hand away and stared at her dog.

With resolve, Laurie reached down and placed her hand on Mia’s smooth head. As if in slow motion, she moved her hand down her dog’s body. Suddenly, Mia lifted her head and looked up at her.