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Who owned the
beautiful husky who appeared in my yard on that dark day?
An Angel of a Dog?
by Lois Spoon
Springdale, Arkansas
When I found a marble-size
lump in my breast I tried to tell myself it was nothing. I was 42 and had
enjoyed good health my whole life. But deep down I knew better: My mother had
died from breast cancer, which meant I was high risk.
Finally
I summoned my courage and called the doctor. A mammogram and a biopsy confirmed
my worst fear. The lump was malignant and doctors advised a radical double
mastectomy. I agreed to have the surgery. And although all of my medical
questions were answered and my husband, Robert, and son, Luke, gave me endless
amounts of love and support, I kept a lot of my worries to myself. I wished for
another woman to talk to. Someone who understood completely what I was going
through. Lord, help me through this. I feel like I’m on my own.
Only
days after the four-hour surgery I was released from the hospital, but I still
seemed to spend more time with doctors and nurses and counselors than I did at
home. I went to physical therapy every day, but rehabilitation was slow. Simple
things such as rolling down a car window or opening a jar of peanut butter had
become painstaking tasks.
Then at
a follow-up visit with my oncologist I got even worse news. The cancer had
spread far into my lymphatic system. “Frankly, Lois, we can’t be optimistic
about the prognosis,” the doctor said, unable to cushion the blow. Even with
chemotherapy, the odds of my surviving were small.
Back
home I sank onto a chair and watched the rain through the window. I had never
felt so completely alone.
I got up
to draw the curtains when I noticed a Siberian husky trotting up the front walk
as if he knew just where he was going. I’d never seen him in the neighborhood. I
went over to the picture window. The dog cocked his head slightly and studied
me. He came closer to the window and I saw he had one blue eye and one brown.
For a few moments he stared at me, then went to sniff around the front yard.
Wait a
minute, I said to myself. Where did I just read about a missing husky? I grabbed
the previous day’s paper from the coffee table and thumbed to the lost-and-found
section in the classifieds. There it was—a description of a lost dog exactly
like this one. I went to the phone and dialed the number listed. A woman
answered. “I think your dog is in my yard,” I told her.
“I can’t
believe it,” she said. “Wolfy’s been missing for weeks! Please give me your
address. I’ll be right over.”
I hung
up and went back to the window. How could I make sure the dog would stay until
his owner came for him? Robert and Luke were out, and I couldn’t restrain the
big animal on my own. It would be hard to control him if I let him in. He seems
content just to sniff around outside, I thought.
Sitting
back down, I tried to keep an eye on the dog as he wandered around the yard. In
about 10 minutes a knock came at the door. “I’m Becky,” the woman said. “Where’s
my Wolfy?”
“You
don’t see him in the yard?” I looked for myself. “Oh, no! He was here just a
second ago.”
“I’ll
check around the neighborhood,” she said. “He couldn’t have gone far.”
The
woman returned about 20 minutes later. “Well, he’s managed to disappear again,”
she said. “But I’m grateful you called me.”
I felt
awful for Becky. That, on top of my own problems, got me dabbing my eyes with a
tissue.
“Are you
okay?” Becky asked.
“Yes,” I
said. But she persisted. “You sure?” All of a sudden a gush of tears poured from
my eyes. How could I let a stranger see me like this?
“Let’s
talk about it,” Becky said, patting my arm. Something told me it was okay and I
invited her in. “My name’s Lois,” I said. We sat on the sofa, and I explained
what was happening to me. She listened to every detail. When I finished she put
her arms around me.
“Lois, I
want to tell you something,” she said. “Four years ago I had the exact same
diagnosis and the exact same prognosis. Just like you I was given little hope
for survival. But here I am. It can happen to you too,” she said. “God will
stand by you every step of the way—and so will I.”
That day
I gained immeasurable strength from Becky. I confided all my deepest fears to
her, and it made me feel better when she said, “I know what you mean. That’s how
I felt too.” She became a wonderful friend, always knowing just the right words
to encourage me when I didn’t think I could stand another round of chemo. Sad to
say, though, she never did find Wolfy—God had other plans for him.
It’s
been six years since my surgery. I beat the odds. With Becky in my corner, I’m
not surprised. I think it’s safe to say that a dog only heaven could have sent
wanted me to meet her.
The above article originally
appeared in the July/August 1999
issue of Angels
On Earth. To subscribe to Angels On Earth click
here.
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