Somewhere in my library, God knoweth not where, is a book of pictures which intends to show the expanse of our physical universe from the sub-atomic [electronmicroscopic] to the farthest reaches of Hubble. On the face of it, then as now, I get the impression that Heaven has a huge responsibility with oversight. But Heaven does appear to run a pretty tight ship. A year or two ago, I stumbled upon an injured groundhog – much in need of help – which, had I been sixty seconds earlier or later, I would have missed.
Timing is all.
Several days ago, my Sabrina was out about town doing chores. On her way home, she remembered to run by Krogers, our local big-chain grocery. T’was a twenty minute side-trip, but sometimes twenty minutes – like sixty seconds – can make all the difference; for in that narrow span of time, the lost dog may not have yet reached our road, or, might have gone out of sight around the steep curve far ahead. She would have missed him altogether.
Twenty minutes – give or take – a lot of things could have happened in that time.
But, as Sabrina drove up the road which abuts our driveway, there he was; head down, tired, hungry, lost, but determined. But determined for what?
Sabrina pulled off the two-lane, set her blinkers, grabbed her dog-treats, got out of the car and beckoned him.
Skittish, he’d have no part of her benevolence. He padded, just out of reach, to the driveway which lies parallel to our own. Sabrina turned in, saw our neighbor and pointed to the lost dog. She called me to come down from our home with an animal carrier stat while she and our next-door friend cornered the lost dog. It came to a point where the dog had to choose between our big neighbor and Sabrina. He chose Sabrina.
Sabrina corralled him gently, although afraid of attack, (“Girl, be careful what you wish for!”) and collared him without physical incident. He proved to be of a temperate and non-aggressive disposition. We got him into the crate and noticed he was covered with fleas. Sabrina covered the crate with a sheet, changed her blouse, and rode him off to the vet’s office for three baths and a pill for parasitic infestation; our hearts would have it no other way.
He was a smallish black Scotty terrier. He had a bald spot on his lower spine. We set up a wire enclosure in our big room. We spent time with him; he was a friendly lad, not a mean bone in him. He had neither collar nor chip, and since he couldn’t tell us his name, I named him ‘Bagpipes’ him being a Scotty and all…
We studied that large bald spot on his hind quarters; the vet told us he not only had fleas, but was allergic to them; a double misery. I sat and loved on the depressed little guy; sometimes he sat in the chair beside me, sometimes on the floor. All this time Sabrina was out putting up flyers in all the businesses she could find.
She tried to attach some info-trailers to local butterflies, a heart-warming endeavor which, alas did not work out as she had hoped. [That’s a joke, son.] Still, you’d have to know my Sabrina to fully understand her dedicated undertaking.
So – had we rescued a dog? Yes. Was he to be ours to keep, a welcome addition to the household? No.
Well, here’s how it worked out. The next morning, two teens and their mom, desperately hoping the vagrant dog was their own arrived at our home, and confirmed his identity. Actually, his mad tail wagging was more than enough evidence for a positive ID. He wagged his tail to an enthusiasm which caused us to fear for his hindquarters. His name was ‘Angus.’ [Okay, a good Scot’s name, but I like ‘Bagpipes’ better.]
It turns out the family had just moved to the valley, and Angus, not knowing this new place was ‘home’ began the long trudge to re-discover his territory [where he and his family used to live.] The son had taken him outside, and as he tried to slip a collar on ‘Bagpipes’, the dog bolted away.
That twenty minute chore Sabrina suddenly remembered, delayed her just enough to save that dog’s life. He’d have been no match for coyotes now so prevalent in our environs.
On the other side of the news: about one year ago, a dog was found roaming free and apparently homeless in our valley. He was picked up by the Roanoke SPCA. He stayed there for some months, then was adopted by a family.
The adoption didn’t work out for whatever reason, so back to the SPCA.
A local TV station told his story, and showed his picture. The broadcast was seen by his original family who had, for that year, been unsuccessful in finding him.
That next morning, when the first employee of the SPCA arrived to open the doors, the family was there, waiting to take him home.
Look for Lucky’s books locally and on-line: I Swear By Apollo; The Oath of Hippocrates; The Cotillian; A Journey Long Delayed; Campfire Tales; Sabonics; More Campfire Tales; Growing Up In Stephentown; Animal Archives; The Story Teller.
SEE SABRINA’S WILDLIFE WEBSITE: FACEBOOK.COM/SWVA WILDLIFE