Of Prayers and Puppies

My mom watched the wiggling bundle of exuberance busting forth from the little brown puppy’s furry body.

“How did this happen?” She pondered long and hard about allowing this shrimp-of-a pup to become the newest member of our family. She didn’t want a dog. The entire family had allergies to dog dander. She didn’t go window shopping and peer into big brown, puppy eyes that make the most stout of hearts get weak-kneed and give in. No. None of that, but yet, here was a little homeless fur-baby in need of a family of her own.

Returning back in time, Mom shivered as she revisited that cold, cold wintery morning a week ago. I had just tumbled out of bed and fumbled my way into the kitchen when we both heard it . . . a small, yet desperate wailing. I pulled back the heavy curtain covering the sliding-glass door and there it was! A puppy. A cold, cold puppy weighing all of five pounds was dancing around our patio seeking refuge from the unforgiving and frosty concrete. Without hesitation my 12-year old feet rushed into to frigid morning air. Clad in a flannel nightgown, I scooped the little thing up in my arms. That puppy needed help. That puppy needed me!

Up until that day, the only dog that had been allowed to satisfy my deep yearning for my very own puppy was a battery operated toy covered in cheap, faux fur. Sure, it barked and walked when I tugged on the leash that served as an “on/off” mechanism, but it was nothing like the flesh and blood pup now nestled in my warm embrace. Mom even took pity on the poor thing and fed her a pancake for breakfast. I was too excited to eat and had no desire to get ready for school, but finally relented when Mom let me fill a box with rags for the pup to snuggle in while I was at school.

That was the genesis of her current quandary. Now, the decision of whether the pup joined our family rested with Mom. As she wrestled with all the reasons why a dog was not good for our family, she couldn’t help but wonder if a greater force was at work. Where had that young pup come from? She was so little, how did she end up in our backyard? Mom knew how desperately I wanted a dog. Sure, I had my mechanical dog, but it couldn’t offer slobbery kisses. Images of dogs lined my walls, but they could not produce the giggles that the wiggles from real dogs evoke from little girls. Plastic dogs of all shapes and sizes adorned my doll houses and decorated my dresser, but they were just cheap imitations. She had a thought and confronted me when I returned home from school.

“Shona, have you been praying for a dog?”

“Oh Momma, I’ve been praying every night!”

“Well, there’s your dog.” A new understanding smiled in her heart.

©2013 Shona Neff