Fate in Action

I work in a consulting field which requires me to set up work bases around my region in Ottawa/Gatineau as projects are added to my portfolio. This is great as it has allowed to discover many parts of my home city and surrounding area that I may never have ventured to on my own.

Several years ago, as a lover of dogs and the owner of two Great Dane puppies, a brother and sister from the same litter, I always explored any pet stores in new areas of the city where I happened to be stationed. In one area of the city I discovered one that still actually sold puppies. This was a rare occurrence at that time and unseen nowadays thank heavens.

Mid-December of that year, I noticed that two Pug, two Boston Terrier and one Bug (Boston Terrier/Pug mix) puppies had arrived and taken residence in a small area behind a window.

Christmas came and went, and the weeks wore on and turned into months and only two of the precious bundles, a Pug and a Boston Terrier had disappeared, as the other three grew and flourished in their small space.

The owner of the store, Samuel, was a kind man and the puppies appeared well looked after. We often chatted as I walked around the store. He was puzzled that all the puppies had not found homes and attributed this to the icier that normal winter conditions that year.

By spring, I was a regular and one Saturday, I had brought my then 10-year-old daughter to work with me and decided to pop into the pet store on the way home. She immediately made her way to the window and peered inside. She was enthralled as she watched the puppies play and vi for her attention from behind the glass.

She asked Samuel, as he walked by if she could hold one of the puppies and pointed to the Bug. The little overexcited bundle was brought out and deposited into my daughter’s eager arms. The puppy sank into her embrace as if he had been created to reside there. Thinking about it now, I realize this was fate in action, but it did not feel that way at the time.

She walked around the store her face alight with pure bliss, the puppy resting comfortably in her arms as she talked to him quietly. Neither of us noticed that Samuel was watching us intently until he quietly came over to where we were standing and startled us by saying, “I have never seen him react like this to anyone.”

I saw the look of complete contentment on my daughter’s face as she smiled up at Samuel sweetly. And then he shocked us both by adding, “If you want him you can have him.”

I’ll never forget our simultaneous reactions, mine abject horror and Dara’s utter joy. I was stunned into silence for a moment as I thought of my current situation; single Mom to two kids, full-time solo bread winner and the exhausted adopted mother of two Great Danes. All being managed in a rented townhouse with no back yard to speak of. I needed another puppy like I needed a whole in the head.

After I had gathered my wits, I opened my mouth to politely decline the generous offer and essentially watched as my words dashed my daughter’s initial happiness. I quietly explained to her that this was not possible or feasible at this time all the while feeling like the worse mother on the planet.

Samuel was obviously distressed by the situation he had unthinkingly landed me in, and his kind eyes met mine apologetically. I gave him a small smile to let him know that I understood he had meant no harm.

I gently but firmly insisted that Dara say her good-byes and give the puppy back. She hugged him close and reluctantly released him. “Don’t you worry,” Samuel said reassuringly, “I will take good care of him until he finds a home.”

We made our way out of the store and to the car, Dara was sad and quiet. I could tell her she was very disappointed and deep in thought.

We got home and fell into the normal chaotic pattern of our weekend life, cooking, cleaning, shopping, taking the Danes to the dog park and getting ready for the week ahead.

I could tell that she was thinking about him, but Dara did not mention the puppy again until late afternoon on Sunday before we sat down to dinner. She approached me with a piece of paper in her hands and asked if she could talk to me.

We sat down in the living room and she presented me with what she had named in bold letters on top, “Contract between Dara and Mommy for Jackson”. It was obvious that she had spent the better part of the weekend creating it. I welled with an intense feeling of tenderness as I looked at her neat, childish handwriting, outlining in ten bullets her promises to care for the puppy if only we would go back to the store and bring him home.

“What do you think?” she asked, and I felt my heart melting as I looked into her sweet face and enchanting blue eyes so filled with determination and hope.

“Well, I like his name and I am very impressed by the effort and thought you have put into this. I can tell it is very important to you,” I said hedging, thinking to myself by this point, my life was already a daily train wreck, how much difference would one more dog actually make?

And I had not forgotten the look on her face as she held the puppy and walked around store. She was by nature a shy child who did not make friends easily and I knew that she did not ever really feel like she fit in.

“Let me think about it and we will continue this discussion tomorrow after school,” I said. I think we both knew at this point that Jackson belonged with us.

The next day I stopped in at the store on my way to work. I noted with a mixture of relief and disappointment that the puppy was still behind the glass. Samuel approached me sheepishly, still obviously uncomfortable with the faux pas he had made. “I should not have said anything in front of your little girl,” he started.

I chuckled softly, “It did put me in an awkward spot,” I agreed and handed him Dara’s contract. “This is what I am up against,” I added as he read the list, obviously touched.

“She’s a special little lady,” He said, “I could see plain as day that they are meant to be together the minute she put her arms around him.” He explained that he had been considering keeping the puppy himself until he saw him with Dara.

We agreed that I would pick Jackson up after work on Friday, if he had not been sold by that time and in all honesty, I still half hoped he would be. I explained this to Dara when I got home and while she was a little worried that she might lose out, she spent a great deal of the week preparing for Jackson’s arrival.

As appointed on the Friday, I stopped in and Samuel handed over the puppy and a box of items to help us make him feel welcome in his new home. Ironically, both the remaining December Pug and Boston Terrier had sold that week. Almost as if Samuel’s generosity in letting the Bug go for free to its rightful owner was being rewarded from above.

It was a tricky drive home. The baby had only ever been out of the store on two short occasions in almost eight months, so everything was new and frightening to him.

My daughter and her friend waited for me at a nearby park with the Danes. We had decided to introduce Jackson to them on neutral ground. Upon my arrival, I released him from the car. Dara, her friend and the Danes bounded over to us. The integration of Jackson into our pack was so easy and immediate that any remaining doubts I had disintegrated.

They played together at the park for hours that evening as if they had been born of the same litter. Jackson recognized his name almost from the first time Dara called it, following our group along as if he had belonged to us and we belonged to him always.

Dara was not perfect in keeping to the terms of her contract but for a ten-year-old she did very well. And, getting to watch the friendship and love that she and Jackson shared from the moment they met until his very last breath convinced me daily that I made the right choice.