Lucky
The time before Christmas had been unusually warm here in the Northeast. No snow before the holidays -- and people were coming to cut our Christmas pines, firs and spruces in shirtsleeves - and even shorts. It was a happy time, a last touch of warmth before the "real" winter set in.
When it did arrive, just after New Year, it came with a blast that shivered the old farmhouse timbers - and penetrated deep inside our bones. Temperatures that had been in the 50s and 60s plummeted to the teens, with a windchill that went even lower. No weather to willingly face the outdoors...and certainly no time for visitors.
I was working inside when it started...a light scratching at my porch door. And was that a plaintive little yip---or was it just imagination? No, there it was again! What could be out there on this bitter night? I looked out and the little yip came from a puppy, maybe 3 months old, and shivering frantically on the cold stone porch.
Dilemma! I checked the puppy over - a cute, blond Cocker Spaniel type. No collar, no I.D. The answer was obvious: someone had probably dropped the dog off on the road. Perhaps a Christmas gift too quickly outworn, then left to fend for itself. Poor little pup - so young, so helpless!
But he was a sweet one, licking my outstretched hand and looking up at me. First thing, pup, we have to let you in and warm you up. Unexpected event: pup went bersek, running in circles crazily all through the house. Bet he is not even housebroken, I surmised.
So..warm the little guy with some heated milk and my own dog's ration. Set up a box out on the porch, cover him with blankets, and see if he can survive the night.
It dropped even colder in the night. Would he have made it? I crept to the porch with anguish --and then my relief as the little one wagged a shivery tail. Bring him in--warm him up --and the same crazy performance as before. Would this pup ever become a house dog?
In and out through the day we went, covering the little body with warmed blankets and praying that we could find an owner for him. All morning I made calls. No one was missing a dog. No one needed a puppy. And with a bad leg and brand new puppy of my own, I couldn't handle another.
The Ontario County Humane Society - 20 miles away - was called. No, they couldn't come today, but would come tomorrow. Yes, I thought, if the pup lives through another night!
As a last resort, I phoned our local radio station. The voice on the other end sounded helpful and very pleasing. Yes, the ad would go on, but could she possibly come take a look at the puppy...TODAY? And come she did, and we both liked her at first sight. Then came the concerns - the pup might not be healthy; her husband might not want a dog, and she was busy with job and family.
Next morning, my little stray was colder than ever. The man from the Humane Society came, and I watched sadly as with a stout rope he led the pup away. Well, at least he would be warm, and they would keep them for a few days and hope that someone would claim him before too late.
I called the Radio Station and left word that the pup was in Canandaigua, picked up the box and the blankets and the dog's bowls - and went back to life before puppy was dropped on my doorstep.
****
It is now another Christmas, and again the people are coming out to cut our pines, firs and spruces. I can hear their happy shouts and calls from my window as they roam through the trees with saws flashing in the sunlight. But I am sad --I long to be out there with them, but the lame knee is worse. Crutches instead of puppies are my companions now - the alpha and omega of my days.
The doorbell rings - some buyers wanting assistance perhaps. Propel yourself to the door... and then it happens! The lady with the nice voice, a tall, quiet husband, two smiling kids and ...a happy blond dog that looks about a year old.
"Do you remember?" she asked. "Well, we waited for five days while the animal shelter took care of bath, physical and shots. He sleeps on my bed at night, and we love him. We tried to call you to let you know."
Suddenly, the whole world seemed to brighten with the holiday spirit, and I felt the presence of something beyond ourselves.
She continued on: "And can you guess what we called him?
We called him......LUCKY!"
Note: Lucky's owner works at a radio station in Geneva. She, and the author and rescuer of Lucky are staying in touch with each other.