May 13th 2010 4:49 am
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Dusty's Adoption Story

On the day before Christmas Eve, my sister-in-law and I visited the local shelter in a small town. We both loved animals and were bored hanging around the house. On the way back to the pet viewing area, a fluffy black and white speckled pup ambushed me. She bounced out from under a desk where she and her brothers were playing. She left all the fun to sit at my feet. I picked her up and she used her power of puppy breath to put a spell on me. She expected me to be hers.

I decided I wanted her without consulting my husband. I knew nothing about her breed characteristics, a mix of Australian Cattle Dog (ACD) and Border Collie. Taking a puppy outside in the frigid winter of Minnesota for frequent potty times is an unwelcome chore. My rash decision along with the other poor choices is not the proper way to choose a life long companion. I began to be overwhelmed with dread. I tried to make myself feel better that I was saving a puppy that was left in a box with her brothers along a snowy highway to freeze to death.

My husband was angry. I didn’t sleep well that night. As I often do when anxious about life events, I left the worry in God’s hands. God would magically send me a sign if adopting her was meant to be. On Christmas Eve morning, I detoured from getting a last minute item at the grocery store to leave a deposit at the shelter. If I didn’t get my sign, then the money could be used as a donation for animals. But otherwise, I could pick up my puppy on Christmas Day when the volunteer came to feed and clean up.

Why I did I bother go to midnight mass, shivering the entire drive to church? God is omnipresent; the sign could come in the warmth of sitting next to the Christmas tree too. How could those abandoned puppies ever survived such frigid weather? Mass began with the familiar order of worship spiced with carols. I prepared myself for the usual homily about Christ’s birth. I could scarcely believe it when the bishop talked about a” hound of heaven.” He was referring to a 1890s poem about God’s grace being like a hound relentlessly pursuing those who have turned away. There was my sign! On Christmas Day, I met the volunteer who came to feed the animals at the shelter and took my pup home. I named her Dusty, short for Christmas Stardust which certainly had magical powers to go along with the season.