Blind Hope: An Unwanted Dog & the Woman She Rescued

by Kim Meeder

  Laurie shot back an enthusiastic “You bet!” Together we seized the moment and galloped our horses with abandon down a forgotten dirt road. Cutting corners, we ducked under tree branches, dodged fallen logs, and jumped over rain runoff channels.

  “Yeah!” I shouted over my shoulder as we thundered toward the direction of home, a half-dozen miles away. We approached the base of a steep incline and coaxed our energized horses down into a fast walk. When we neared the bottom of the hill, I gave quick instructions to Laurie. “Reach halfway up Lightfoot’s neck and grab a handful of mane. I want you to lean forward and stand up in the stirrups and let him do his job. We’ll go first to show you what I mean.”

  Like a four-legged freight train, Ele bounded up the hill in a series of powerful leaps. Once we reached the top of the ridge, I sat back down in my saddle. I dropped my reins and lowered my hands to rub both sides of my mare’s neck in appreciation of a job well done.

  From below, Laurie encouraged Lightfoot, and her voice carried up to me. “Good boy, good boy! You’re amazing!” In an instant they popped over the top as if it were little more than a speed bump.

  “Arabians! What’s not to love?” I called out in pure admiration.

  Once on top of the crest, we picked our way through a jumble of black lava rock. While our horses walked head to tail, I pointed out the panoramic view to the east. Geology intrigues me, so I took the moment to explain to Laurie how we were actually riding on the high side of a fault plane.

  “All of Central Oregon is volcanic in origin and has been shaped by unique forces. See those black outcroppings of rock? They’re the terminuses, the ends of some very old lava flows, which are primarily basalt, one of the heaviest stones on earth.”

  Laurie, who was still riding behind me, was silent. I wondered if I was boring her with my impromptu geology babble and swung around in my saddle to check on her.

  She smiled at me and then glanced in the direction of the lava features I had just pointed out. Her expression was pensive, telling me that although she was looking at the phenomenon, she was not really seeing it. I could tell her mind was wandering, instead, in a wilderness of consideration.

  Without thought, I slowed my horse’s pace. “What is it?”

  A surge of sadness clouded Laurie’s eyes. “I just want to be there for her, you know? The road that awaits Mia is going to be far less kind than what she’s already been through.” Laurie’s voice caught as her expression began to crumple.

  I asked Ele to halt. Lightfoot sensed what he needed to do and stopped at my mare’s shoulder. “Oh, Lou, you’ve given Mia such a wonderful end to her life. No matter what might lie ahead, she’s secure in the loving home you’ve given her. Because of you, she’ll know nothing but love right up until the very end. And that, my sweet girl, is a good end.”

  Laurie’s gaze did not return to mine. Still looking away, she fought to control her emotions.

  I held my horse steady next to Lightfoot. “You know that Dr. Shawn and I are friends, right?”

  She sniffed and then nodded.

  “He’s told me more than once how incredibly fortunate Mia is that you adopted her. She would’ve died long ago had you not intervened. He also said he knows of few others who would’ve done what you’re doing for Mia. He told me that nobody could do better for her than you have.”

  She raised one hand to her face and wept.

  There, on top of a windswept ridge, two horses stood close to bear their riders even closer. A cold wind blew around us. I pulled up my fleece collar and buttoned my black Carhartt coat around it. It was hard to see my friend’s heart break. Both of us knew that when Mia’s time came, it would be a very difficult good-bye.

  Laurie pulled one of her sleeves from under her coat and dried her eyes. She drew several deep breaths before she spoke again. “I feel like my whole life has been so mixed up, so about me. And then Mia came. In her unique way, she has helped me to see that my life is like a puzzle. Each piece by itself is confusing, but when fitted together into the bigger picture, there’s a greater purpose. I can see that in my lame attempt to insulate myself from pain, I’ve also unintentionally isolated myself from really knowing love. In my need for self-protection, I’ve pulled so far back from anything that could emotionally challenge me to grow that I compromised growing altogether.”

  Laurie worked to push her damp sleeve back up under her coat. “I didn’t realize just how shut down I’d become until a little blind dog demonstrated how much more satisfying it is to live an honest and open life.”

  We started down the trail again. “I’m happy …” I spoke over my shoulder. “Girl, I’m so happy at how Mia’s helping you to open up. As you already know, a closed heart only knows loneliness. It takes an open heart to receive gifts like hope and love, peace and joy.”

  “You’re right,” she said from behind me. “What I’m starting to grasp for the first time is that love doesn’t just come in; we choose to let it in. Letting love in is now something that I’m working on. I need to choose to let love in.”

  A little blind dog demonstrated how much more satisfying it is to live an honest and open life.

  I turned in my saddle to look back at Laurie. Her expression made me think she was mentally putting up a Post-it note with that same message across her heart. Note to self: let love in!

  She gave me a weak smile. “It’s the funniest thing. Issues I’ve tripped over most of my life, while spinning around in confusion, my dog does naturally. Experiencing things like love, peace, and joy aren’t hard for her at all. I think love is so complex, yet my dog demonstrates that it can also be simple. Mia constantly shows me how easy it is to fill one’s life with what actually matters, like being content with what you have. I’ve struggled with being content, but my dog hasn’t. For her, contentment is effortless. I want to be like that. I want to have that same peaceful awareness.

  “Almost every day she proves how things like sprawling in the sun can be one of the greatest treasures there is. I love it when Mia is resting outside in the yard. I can see her turning her head to catch the sound of the wind moving through the trees.

  “Sometimes I see her tip her head completely sideways when she hears a favorite word, like walk. Maybe the greatest insight of all her dog wisdom is, if you love someone, let them know. There’s no time like the present for a well-placed lick on the chin.”

  Laurie snickered. “Because of a dog, I now understand that a sincere kiss, no matter how stinky, is more valuable than gold.”

  Mia’s days were numbered.

  That painful fact spurred Laurie to live more in the moment. Without trying, Mia challenged her master to make every ounce of time count, really count. Laurie understood that any day she and her dog spent together could be their last.

  Late one afternoon, Laurie noticed that Mia didn’t seem quite right. Laurie tried to soothe her mild concern by telling herself that her dog had just had a busy day and was probably tired. But Mia’s odd behavior continued into the evening; she grew more and more restless. Instead of lying quietly next to Laurie’s feet, Mia constantly shifted her weight, often getting up and roaming around the house. Laurie took her outside a few times, thinking maybe she was going to be sick, but the strange searching behavior only continued outdoors.

  A sincere kiss, no matter how stinky, is more valuable than gold.

  Laurie checked and rechecked Mia’s medication schedule. Okay, everything is fine with her meds. I didn’t miss anything. I know she hasn’t eaten anything she shouldn’t have. Her amount of exercise hasn’t varied much. She should be fine.

  By the time Laurie was getting ready for bed, Mia was nowhere to be found. An anxious search revealed that she had crawled into the back of Laurie’s small closet. Mia had never removed herself like this before. “Oh, girl, what’s going on? This isn’t where you belong. What are you trying to tell me?”

  Laurie had owned a dog in her youth and understood that a setting of privacy would probably her
ald how Mia would choose to leave this life. Dogs possess a sense of their own end and often will hide away from those they love when the time comes. Laurie refused to accept that possibility. She didn’t want it to be true, not today.

  Laurie pushed open the closet door a bit wider and sat down on the tan carpet next to Mia. She stroked her dog’s lowered head and whispered her agony. “It can’t be time, Mia. Not now. You’re doing so well. Please don’t go. Please don’t leave.”

  Mia didn’t stir, didn’t have the energy even to respond. Her tail, which normally wagged behind her, now lay limp on the floor.

  Laurie spoke again to Mia in whispers. “Come on, girl. Come with me.”

  Still no response. Her one remaining eye focused on nothing.

  Laurie tried a different tactic. “Come on, Mia. It’s time to go to bed.” She crawled out of the closet, hoping Mia would follow as she always had.

  Mia hesitated, then rallied herself. Step by slow step, she followed Laurie out of the closet and found her place on the plush oval dog pillow beside Laurie’s bed. That is where she had slept nearly every night since she and Laurie had been together.

  Laurie lay on the floor, her arms around her dog, assuring Mia of her love. After Mia settled into sleep, Laurie went back into the bathroom to finish her preparations for bed.

  When Laurie returned to the bedroom, the dog bed was empty. Mia was gone.

  She had retreated back into the closet. This time Mia had curled up in an incredibly small place in the very back corner. “Please, Mia, please … Please come.”

  But Mia didn’t respond.

  Laurie collapsed under the weight of her sorrow. “No, Mia. No, not now, not yet.” She ran her hand over her dog’s soft coat.

  “I’m not ready to say good-bye.” She laid her head on Mia’s warm body. “Please, please don’t go.”

  Laurie started to crawl away, begging Mia to follow, but this time her dog couldn’t oblige her.

  Mia was no longer able to crawl out to Laurie … so Laurie crawled in to her. Together they lay in the corner of the closet—a broken dog cradled in the arms of a broken girl.

  “My little dog … You’ll always be my little blind dog.”

  At first, Laurie wanted to encourage Mia to fight for her life. Yet on the heels of that yearning came an even stronger desire. It was her greater hope that the companion she loved so much wouldn’t suffer.

  Who am I to determine what should happen? Mia is the only one who can make that choice—to fight for more time or to let go. It’s not my decision—it is Mia’s.

  If this was going to be her beloved dog’s final night, Laurie wanted her to understand that she was cherished right up to the very end. She wanted Mia to know that she was loved and treasured, that her example of life had changed Laurie’s outlook. This kind dog had helped a lost woman understand that it’s not the outside package that makes people valuable; it’s the truth, the hope, and the new heart that beats within them. All these things she had found in the loving arms of God.

  Laurie sat in the darkened closet and cried. She hoped that Mia would be calmed by the soft, rhythmic strokes of her master’s hand over the top of her head. In the lowest of tones, Laurie sang songs that had always filled her aching heart with comfort. She sang songs to God, songs that promised peace for her struggling girl. Bending down, Laurie moved her lips close to her dying dog’s ear, making sure Mia heard her every word.

  My precious girl, you’re the best dog in the world.

  “My precious girl, you’re the best dog in the world. Sweet baby, I love you.”

  Laurie watched as Mia slipped into a peaceful sleep. She cupped Mia’s face with both hands and offered one final prayer, knowing this would be their last moment together.

  “Thank you, God, for allowing me to know Mia and for blessing my life by letting me take care of her during our short time as a family. Thank you, Lord, for showing me a deeper glimpse of who you are through this little blind dog … Thank you … thank you.”

  The murmured words mixed with her silent tears. When Laurie finished praying, she bent down even farther and gently, repeatedly kissed Mia’s nose and muzzle. Finally she pressed her wet cheek against Mia’s face and just held her.

  “I love you, Mia. I love you, sweet girl. You will always be my precious girl … I love you.” Laurie wanted a message of loving adoration to be the last thing Mia heard.

  Laurie slipped out of the closet and into her bed. She cried long into the darkness, mournful sobs of anguish and grief. Her friend was dying. She tried to console her breaking heart by focusing on the fact that, for the last several months, Mia had been greatly loved. She wouldn’t die alone under a bush or an old car. Laurie reminded herself that Mia was cradled in a warm, safe place with the one person who loved her, and now she was in a deep, tranquil sleep. Laurie wept until she had no more tears.

  Morning came too soon, with the light from Laurie’s bedroom window still flat and gray. The radiant warmth of the sun had not yet reached into her world of sorrow. In the silence of the early dawn, Laurie lay motionless, emptied and exhausted, trying to comprehend all that had happened.

  Did I do it right, God? Did I look after her enough? Did she know how much she was loved?

  Finally, the light in her window began to glow with the golden promise of a new day. There would always be a new day. Laurie prayed out of her aching heart. “Oh, God, I need your help. I don’t know how to do this. I don’t know how to push through this grief.”

  Laurie rolled to the side of her bed—and froze. Her eyes remained fixed on the floor, stunned by the sight. Apparently, at some point during the night, Mia had rallied long enough to relocate herself, as close to Laurie as she could get. She lay curled up on the floor, only inches away from the bed.

  “Oh, Mia … My precious Mia,” Laurie whispered.

  It took a moment before she could muster the will to touch her. Finally, leaning over to stroke her beloved dog one last time, Laurie touched Mia’s head. She was surprised by a hint of warmth.

  “Oh, God.” She spoke aloud to him. “If only I’d known earlier that she was here, I could’ve held her as she died.” The fact that Laurie had missed Mia’s passage by moments wounded her heart even deeper.

  She touched Mia again.

  Under her hand, she felt a twitch, ever so slight.

  What’s happening? She jerked her hand away and stared at her dog.

  With resolve, Laurie reached down and placed her hand on Mia’s smooth head. As if in slow motion, she moved her hand down her dog’s body. Suddenly, Mia lifted her head and looked up at her.

  What? Mia was alive—very much alive!

  Incredulous, Laurie looked down at her revived dog. Her thoughts collided with an instant logjam of questions. How can this be? Her bewilderment was interrupted by the familiar thump, thump, thump of Mia’s tail drumming against the carpet. It was the most welcome sound Laurie had ever heard. Mia peered up at her master as if to ask, “Hey, what’s for breakfast?”

  Laurie slid out of bed and onto the floor beside her dog. She wrapped Mia in her arms and pulled her close. Laurie buried her face into her dog’s neck, crying and laughing at the same time.

  “Thank you, God! Thank you, God! Thank you, God!” poured like a river out of her heart, flooding her soul with gratitude.

  In that moment, Laurie’s mind reeled backward through every random conversation concerning Mia. Conversations that discussed the dog that some thought wasn’t worth saving.

  “She’s too messed up.”

  “She has too many problems.”

  “Just leave her. Let her go.”

  The comments reverberated in her head, while the parallels to her own life resounded even louder. God hadn’t given up on her when she looked too far-gone to save. When others left her for dead because they believed she was too messed up, the Lord stayed with her. Unlike her accusers, he didn’t focus on all her failures. Neither did he ask her to clean up her life before coming t
o him. Instead, when she cried out his name, he came to her.

  Without judgment, the Lord of all had crawled into her darkest closet, and instead of criticizing her, he cradled her. He focused not on what she lacked but on who she was. He didn’t consider her faults; he only saw her potential.

  Even though she had committed many offenses, he spoke of none. Out of his mouth did not pour the expected reprimands. From his lips flowed only his truth. Of all the things he could have said in her most broken states, he didn’t. The only words that poured from his heart into hers were how perfectly he created her, how deeply he believed in her, and how completely he loved her.

  Laurie embraced her dog in the midst of Mia’s eager good morning kisses and was blanketed by more truth.

  Even though Laurie had felt all alone the night before, God had not abandoned her. During her bleakest and most abysmal moments, God had always been by her side. In all those places and times when she lay in the darkness, so broken and heavy-hearted that she felt she might be crushed by the blackness, God had been with her.

  Deep in the caverns of her soul, in the times when her spirit felt closest to death, that was when she had heard it—the voice of Jesus.

  And he was praying for her, speaking words of love over her. Words of peace. Words of truth. Words of comfort.

  And then—hope beyond hope—she could hear something else, the most beautiful melody to ever fill her soul.

  It was her Lord … singing … over her.

  The LORD your God is with you,

  he is mighty to save.

  He will take great delight in you,

  he will quiet you with his love,

  he will rejoice over you with singing.2

  Like a pair of compass needles pointing north, our horses traversed the last of the trail leading back to the ranch. Grateful for their autopilot ability, I pulled up the corduroy collar of my coat and used it to wipe away my tears. I looked across at my friend and exhaled, releasing the remnants of all that I had been holding in while she told about that night with Mia. The reins were draped over Lightfoot’s neck while Laurie cupped her face with both hands.