Posted on 12/16/2006 4:12:25 PM PST by Old Professer
Have you ever had your heart stolen? I mean just a drop-dead moment in time when you knew that you had to do what needed to be done.
We looked and looked up and down the rows of cages tying to find the perfect companion and as we walked we kept passing the cage of this one rather large English Springer Spaniel with the saddest eyes I ever saw on a dog.
It was like walking back and forth in front of one of those pictures where, no matter what angle you looked at it, the eyes followed you and stared right back into your own. The first time I couldn't help but wonder how such a magnificent though rather ragged looking pet could end up in prison but we had a puppy to find so I kept walking.
On the third pass through I paused and noticed a sheaf of papers in a plastic pouch on the front of the cage and began to read it. This dog was the fifth generation of AKC Springers with a blood line that put my own to great shame and yet here she was, locked up like some mongrel mutt you might exile for chewing up your prized Pravda pumps.
I went to see the caretaker to ask how this could be and she told me that the owners had to leave town and had no way to take her; she also said that this would be her last day if someone didn't adopt her and give her a home.
I went back again, drawn by those enchanting eyes and looked more closely and it was at that moment that the die was cast and we would become forever friends, this poor, lost dog and I.
Many years went happily by from California to Tennessee and I watched as my daughter's huge puppy guarded her closer than the king's knights while Father Time slowly creeped up on my Maggie.
We moved into our house in December and Maggie had to have an ornament to hang on our Christmas tree, or so my daughter informed me. So off we went and brought home this treasure made of clear brilliant plastic, engraved with a horse and carriage of the sort you might find in an English countryside where the dog would ride wrapped in a blanket beside her masters.
Each year we would take out this jewel for display alongside the other traditional ones and the rest of the glitter and lights and nonsense sort of stuff like styrofoam popcorn on a thread that took half the evening to string one year while Maggie kept begging for a piece thinking it the real thing.
One year, about eight years ago, we had to take Maggie home to rest but still we hung her ornament on the tree. Ever since then, the first ornament to go on our now sadder tree was Maggie's horse and carriage.
Last year the treasured piece of plastic came up missing and try as we might it could not be found. We looked and looked to no avail until finally we just decided that Maggie had reclaimed it somehow or so we pretended.
This year, with a new baby in the house, my daughter's first she set out to decorate the tree yet another time and wonder of wonders, there among the raft of stuff was Maggie's plaque staring back from the tattered box just as her forlorn eyes stared back at mine some many Christmases ago.
We hung it carefully in front of a small white light, a reminder that nothing is really lost, you have probably simply misplaced it or it is in hiding for a time when it will do the most good.
This will be a Merry Christmas for us and I sincerely hope for all of you.
We have a cat named Maggie who is always leaving rug ornaments. Damn cat.
Wonderful story...
But if you've got a daughter that young, you must not be that old.
congratulations to you, and i am glad your daughter found the ornament. we just got a new puppy in our family today, a little sister for our 3 year old male cavalier. Maggie sounds like a wonderful dog and i teared up at your story.
OMG - our's too! Every freaking day.
Is your "Maggie" yellow?
A very touching story.
And a very Merry Christmas to you and yours.
Ah, words - the magic ingredient of Humanity. How the Christmas Season adds just a bit more spice to their magic!
Not yellow. White, long-haired Persian (think James Bond villain). Poor thing doesn't know if she is carrying a dingleberry on her pants or not. Where it falls is totally random. We are thinking of installing red and black numbered tiles on the floor and taking bets.
Combine that with the hairballs, and it's the gift that keeps on giving! Meow.
Thank you ... for a Currier-and-Ives moment.
Two years ago, my 14 yr old Springer, Mandy, went on to her reward. It was --well, you know how bad it was.
I had seen the handwriting on the wall, though, and decided to get a new puppy before Mandy died. I wanted the most UNMandy dog I could find, and ended up with a Labradoodle, who I named Ginger.
For a while, having the puppy around seemed to rejuvenate Mandy, and she even showed a bit of friskiness playing with the puppy--but about 2 months later, Mandy suffered a killing stroke, and was gone.
I happened into one of those gift shops not long after that, one that had lots of unique gifts that you just don't see everywhere. One thing they had was Christmas ornaments. They were different breeds of dogs, and they were all dressed as angels--complete with a shiny halo. When I saw the "Mandy Angel" I was elated, and almost whopped out loud.
Needless to say, our Mandy ornament has a place of honor on our tree.
BTW--Ginger is a great dog as it turned out!
absolutely touching story.
merry christmas!
I love good writing.
What a great story, OP.
Thank you.
Ping to more dog lovers.
You may love this heartwarming story. Very touching, it is.
Thanks for a touching story.
Hair, we think this is puppy-ping worthy.
Beautiful story, Old Professer.
And on a personal note, if any of the readers want to get a new pet friend, PLEASE do not buy one from a pet store.
We just adopted a female Papillon (last April) that was rescued from a puppy mill in MO. She spent the first five years of her lonely life living in filth and having litters, which in turn were stocked in pet shops. She didn't even have a name - just a numbered tag around her neck.
Now we'll spend the next few years providing her with the love and kindness she never knew existed. But we won't have much time. Alas, her health is failing.... and she's only six.
Ahem...it's past dinner time...
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