Blind Hope: An Unwanted Dog & the Woman She Rescued (5 page)

Insidiously, her vices took over—until one day Laurie realized she was no longer in control of the ploys she used to gain what she needed; they were in control of her. In that black season, Laurie finally recognized that she was being pulled into the throat of a behemoth. The monster that sought to destroy her had a ravenous mouth that knew no satisfaction. Its jagged teeth closed around her, paralyzing her with despair. The sharp fangs that gripped her had names: guilt, hopelessness, shame, selfishness, pride, fear, sorrow, worthlessness.

Although Laurie knew about God, she had chosen not to turn to him. She had mistaken God for a church, a group of people, and a set of rules. When they failed her, she believed that God also had failed her. God felt too far away to satisfy her needs. Even though she had been raised in a Christian home, she had never genuinely embraced her own relationship with God. Instead, she assumed only enough Christianity to make her look good when she needed to. Laurie learned how to wear faith like an accessory, choosing to bring it out only to complement her exterior appearance in order to blend in with others who had a deeper faith than her own.

On the outside, Laurie looked righteous and together, but inside she was in turmoil. She had never worked to cultivate genuine faith; she had never harvested genuine peace. She had come to the private conclusion that if God had plans to do something good in her life, he would have to prove himself to her. He would have to show her in a tangible way, according to her expectations, that he was real.

Driving up to a fork in the road, Laurie suddenly had to choose which direction would lead her back home.
What am I doing? Trying to make myself feel better by rescuing a dog? Even if it’s the right thing to do, am I still doing it for the wrong reasons?
Laurie
acknowledged her attempt to fill the void in her heart with an unselfish act of benevolence. So far she didn’t feel any better. In fact, she felt worse.

She had pushed her blackness so far down into the caverns of her soul that she had come close to convincing herself that her heart was healing, that everything was going to be all right. When she looked at the ragged and rejected dog, instinctively she knew that this creature was a four-legged reflection of herself.

Laurie still felt unsettled about the decision she had just made. She didn’t question whether she had done the right thing. Her only real question was whether she was the right one to do it. In an unconscious gesture of reassurance, Laurie reached across the seat and placed a gentle hand on the dog’s back. The dog shifted her weight, trying to move away. Laurie kept her hand quietly in place until the dog lay still. Without a word, she ran her hand over the smooth top of her dog’s head, attempting to ease away both of their fears.

“Sweet dog, you can relax now. You’re going to be okay. Everything is going to be all right. I’m going to take care of
you. I don’t know how, but I’m willing to try. Rest easy. We’re going to work this out together.”

It was nearly dark when Laurie and I rounded the bottom of the ranch driveway. Old-fashioned lanterns hung in the twilight, beckoning us to follow them up the hill toward the promise of a warm fire. The snow had stopped falling, furnishing a sanctuary of silence. Reflecting on all she had said, Laurie snuggled her hands into her coat pockets and confided, “In that moment, my life was about to be permanently changed—by a dog.”

A
nother hot and dusty day was coming to a close on the ranch. After receiving hugs and words of encouragement, a giggling stream of kids trickled down the long driveway. The staff and I combed over the ranch, each seeking to rake, scoop, or sweep the areas we were responsible for.

I coiled the water hose on our grassy hill and picked up crushed paper cups. The afternoon breeze had hidden them in the rabbitbrush that flanks the green knoll. Only moments earlier, the now mangled cups had been the weapons used in a spontaneous, squealing water fight. The ambush had been waged between some of my staff and a group of mischievous and now soaking wet kids. It had been such a good day. In fact, any afternoon spent in the company of children is a good day.

I corralled a herd of mashed cups in my arms and made my way down the hill toward a garbage can by the barn door. When I released the cups over the can, a few renegades bounced off the rim and dropped to the ground.

Laurie, having just swept the boardwalk, came toward me with broom in hand. “Aha!” She laughed and pinned the stray cups to the ground before the breeze could scatter them again.

“Thanks, Lou.” I picked up the last rebels and tossed them in the trash.

She made use of her fake western drawl. “Glad I could help ya, ma’am.”

We laughed and talked about some of the highlights of the day, and then I saw Laurie’s expression turn thoughtful.

“Do you have a minute?” she asked.

Over the years, I’ve observed from my staff, friends, and family that this statement is far less a question than it is a plea to be heard. “Sure, let’s head up to the top of the hill.” I gestured sideways with my head.

We walked the short distance to the highest place we could find and, without grace, collapsed on the cool grass. I gazed
across the lowlands toward the rising Cascade mountains, grateful for the chance to be still. Each of the peaks and glaciers, valleys and crevasses, took me on an instant, reminiscent journey of hiking, skiing, or mountaineering.

I stretched out on the grass and raised one arm toward Laurie. “Speak to me,” I said with mock drama that matched my goofy smile.

True to her nature, Laurie laughed and then shook her head. “No, it’s nothing big. I just wanted to tell you some really cool things that have been happening between my new dog and me.”

“I’d love to hear what’s been going on. Fire away!”

“By speaking out loud what I’m learning, it makes it more real, more permanent in my life. Know what I mean?” Her eyebrows accented her question.

I nodded in agreement.

“Well, once I brought my dog home, everything changed. She wasn’t just scared. She was really sick and weak and needed my help to recover. I wasn’t sure how things were going to work out, but within a few days I could tell she’d decided she could trust me. For some crazy reason, she chose to like me and wanted to play with me and sleep on my bed during her recuperation. Then, I believe, she started to love me … and I chose to love her back. She wasn’t the cool blue-eyed dog I had hoped
for, but I started to see all that she was—a homely, kind, and loving dog. In a short amount of time, we’ve become really good friends.”

I couldn’t contain the broad smile that I felt spreading across my face. “Well, look at that. Good for you, girl, for stepping up. It matters more than you know. Whether she chose to love you or not wouldn’t have changed the fact that you did the right thing, and now something wonderful is happening because of it.”

Laurie plucked several blades of grass. “I didn’t think it was possible to become such good friends with a dog in such a short amount of time. I guess it took me a bit to realize that I needed to let go of my expectations and just accept her as she was.”

I agreed. “Honestly, I doubt there’s a creature on this earth that does exactly what you’ve just described better than a dog. No matter how badly we fail them, they just keep accepting us for who we are and love us anyway.”

“Yeah, she’s so much better at that than I am, but I’m learning. Wait! Make that, ‘we’re learning
together
.’”

“That’s the spirit!” I laughed and tossed a few blades of grass her way.

“There were so many changes my ‘Aussie girl’ and I needed
to adjust to, like when I decided to rename her. Her old owner had called her Angel, which I didn’t feel suited her at all. Besides, I wanted her to have a new name to identify her new start with me. I wanted her to know she was mine, that she belonged to someone. After lots of thought, I finally chose Chiquita Mia, which is Spanish for ‘my little girl.’ I knew that Mia was a very different sounding name from the one she had known before. Still, I felt confident that we could make the transition together.”