The Entire Story, From Beginning to End.

My dog is Abbey.

I met her on Saturday. She was so scared. She was dashing about for a corner to hide in … but she was so beautiful. Her big Mastiff head atop her sleek Labrador body. Those rich yellow Vizsla eyes and soft pink nose. Mom said she looked like a lioness.

I agreed to take her for a little walk. She walked perfectly at the length of the lead without pulling. As we got farther away from the shelter, her ears began to perk up at noises and her tail dislodged itself from between her legs and began to resume a normal position. I called her to me and asked her to sit, rewarding her with a bit of hot-dog that the handler had given me for treats. I crouched down in front of her. She met my eye. “You’re gonna be fine once I get you out of here, aren’t you?”

I had kind of already decided that this was my dog, but there was still one thing I wanted to know. We walked back toward the shelter. Abbey got more and more skittish as we got closer, only instead of looking for a corner to dart for, she hid behind my legs and leaned against me. I asked my dad to go home and get Juno, while Mom and I sat with her. Abbey traveled back and forth between us, accepting doses of love at each stop.

When Juno got there they did their little get to know you dance, and seemed to get along quite well. So again I crouched down to talk with Abbey eye to eye. “Do you want to be my dog?” She kissed my nose in response.

I filled out the paper-work and left. About 3 hours later she was mine. I was told I could pick her up when they opened the next day at 11:00. I was so excited, I went to the pet store and bought her treats (Snausages, cuz they’re kind of like hot-dogs), and a new doggy-necklace… a green one with a little gold bone-shaped tag.

I could hardly sleep that night. I arrived Sunday morning a little early, but they let me in and brought her to me. Again, she was totally freaked. I took her out to the car and asked her to get in, which she did instantly. The farther we drove away from the shelter the more excited she got. By the time we got home, she was far from shy. When I opened my door to get out, she climbed over me, spilling her new treats all over the street and honking the horn for a rather long time.

Ears up, tail wagging, nose hard at work. She wanted to know everything about her new digs. Her first impression of her new home was growling at the front door, courtesy of Juno, with a loud and lengthy background of cussing from a frustrated Beth who was wrestling with a clogged toilet. “Welcome home. I’m afraid you’re gonna have to get over this scaredy-dog shit in a f$%*in’ hurry.” And she did. There was no sign of the cowering “Golda” that she used to be. She had done a 180 in the first 15 minutes of her being my dog, and was now the confident and beautiful “Abbey”.

I put Abbey and Juno outside where they could get acquainted, and Abbey could explore the rest of her territory. A squirrel chanced to venture along one of the fences, which Abbey and Juno chased with equal fervor. After that, they were thick as thieves. I chopped some hot-dogs, grabbed the new necklace and went out to join them. “Look, Abbey. This is your new necklace. See? It’s got your new name on it. Abbey. That’s you. And this is your new address and phone number… so all of your boyfriends know where to find you. Wanna try it on?”

Tom came over with Jove. Jove was so excited to have a new playmate. Abbey chased him around and wrestled with him a bit. She was playful, but assertive; establishing her place in the pack as being well above his. I stayed close by, watching. I was utterly astounded by the acute and abrupt transformation that had occurred in this little being.

Tom fixed the toilet and took Jove home, and Beth went shopping. It was just us girls. We lounged on the floor in front of the TV. I half pretended to be interested in a football game, but secretly, my undivided attention was fixed solely on the beautiful creature lying next to me. She really was lion-esque, lying there with her powerful paws delicately crossed and her soft pink tongue protruding and retracting with the rhythm of her panting. “Hello my beautiful Abbey-girl.”

Mom and Dad came over with Nelson and stirred us from our lounging. Abbey walked up to each and greeted them. She was a little cautious of Dad, but I gave him some hot-dog bits (which Abbey readily accepted from him) and reassured her that she was safe, and her fear subsided.

Abbey then began to take laps around the house. Each revolution started and stopped with me, where we cuddled and exchanged kisses. Mom and Dad were talking about what a changed dog she was. “She doesn’t cower at all anymore,” Mom said in my general direction. “I know. Not even when I yell at her to get off the couch.” Mom asked if I had bought her a bed.

“No. She’s gonna sleep with me.”
“Are you sure she’ll do that? Nellie won’t get up on a bed for anything.”
“Let’s see.” I got to my feet, walked leisurely to my room, and crawled onto my bed.
“Abbey, come’ere.” My dog pranced into my room, bounded onto my bed, buried her face into my comforter next to me, and flipped over for some tummy-lovin’. “Yeah, I think maybe this is some she could get used to.”

They stayed until the end of the football game, which none of us were watching, and then gathered their dog and headed home.

Abbey and I were invited to Tom’s house for dinner, which we accepted. After thoroughly exploring every inch of my car, Abbey decided that the ideal spot was to stand on my center console and lean against me. Naturally her head blocked any and all possible views out 2 of 3 of my rear-view mirrors. “Swell. Note to self: Get one of those gate-thingies that will confine her to the back of the wagon.” But secretly I liked the feel of her weight against me.

Tom’s house was a three-ring circus, and the dog’s took center stage. Juno growled her general disapproval of chaos. Jove barked his pleas for Abbey to play with him. Which she did until she was literally dripping with his saliva. Abbey, trying her best to do the right thing, eventually began to politely decline in soft growls, checking with me after each to make sure it was okay that she was growling at the puppy. I affirmed her actions with affectionate head scratches, loving each time she looked up at me with those gripping eyes and placing the chin of her thick muzzle on my hip. “That’s right, Abelour. You tell him.”

During dinner she laid right next to my chair in her most regal and beautiful position. Her eyelids were beginning to get heavy. She had had quite a day, but I wasn’t through with her yet. I was determined to walk my dog every day, and this was day 1. We drove home so we could walk around our own neighborhood and she could start getting familiar with her surroundings. I decided to walk her by the most pedestrian populated intersection of the neighborhood to see just how far she had come that day in her recovery from a fear of people. Turns out, not very far. She was ducking around lampposts and cowering when strangers walked by. I reassured her and praised her, but she made it abundantly clear that she wanted nothing to do with strangers for quite some time. I made a b-line for a dark empty street and made a promise to her not to push her too fast in her re-socialization.

When we got home I turned on the TV. Abbey paced between my room, and me making little communicative whines. “Is it time for bed, Abbey? Okay, baby-girl. You talked me into it.” She followed me everywhere while I got ready for bed. When we finally snuggled in, she grabbed a small corner at the foot of the bed, not touching me. She kept getting up, wanting to investigate sounds. I didn’t want to discourage this behavior, but I did want to sleep, so I took off her necklace. When she was satisfied that all was well, she resume her position at the corner of the bed. I slept lightly; aware throughout the night of each time she stirred and inched closer to me. By morning she was curled up against me in the crook of my knees, sleeping away like a perfect angel. Reluctantly, not wanting to disturb the blissful serenity thing we had going, I kissed her awake and got up to get ready for work. She, of course, followed my every move.

I put her necklace back on, which seemed a relief to her, and let her out the people door into the back yard to do her thing. She had not yet gotten used to the marvelous convenience of the doggy-door (even though Nelson had shown her how, and she used it several times the day before). As she had done the night before, she went out, picked a spot, did her thing, and trotted right back in the door. “You are such a good dog.”

While I was in the shower, she periodically poked her nose in through the curtain to make sure I was okay. … Or, perhaps it was to make sure I was still there and had not, in fact, been washed down the drain with the soapsuds. I set her up in the mudroom with food, water, a place to crash, and doggy-door access. I gave her yummies (she had starting eating actual dog treats and not just hot-dogs) and kisses and said my first goodbye to her.

I was useless at work. I watched time tick by in painful sloth while daydreaming of hikes and camping trips and days on the lake. Lunchtime finally came and I raced home.

I let Abbey in from her confinement area and said a proper hello with scratches and kisses. I then made my lunch of Ramen Noodles and sat down to eat. While I ate, Abbey parked herself in what had already become her favorite spot: A nice bit of hardwood (no rugs for this dog) near the corner of the sofa. When I finished my soup, I rolled onto the rug in front of the coffee table. In spite of her normal aversion to all things rug, Abbey nuzzled up next to me and rolled over for a tummy-rub. I obliged, relishing in her affection. She rolled around and began testing my tolerance for her playing with me by directing her open mouth at my hand. I laughed and encouraged her, playfully grasping at her muzzle.

We settled down and lay next to each other for uncounted minutes. I slowly scratched her belly, whispering sweet-nothings into her ear. I could not recall in that moment ever having felt such bliss and comfort. “You are my baby-girl… forever and ever and ever.”

The clock told me it was time to get back to work. I put her back in the mudroom, gave her more treats and said our second goodbye. From home I went by the pet store to purchase the gate thing for my car, then proceeded to work.

That evening, when I returned home, my Abbey was gone. There were scratch marks on the doorknob and door of the mudroom. The latch to the front gate had been lifted and the gate pulled in. My dog was a regular f%^&ing Houdini.

In a panic, I grabbed her leash and began walking. Within a block, logic began to return to me. “Alright. It’s possible that she’s been out for up to 3 ½ hours, and she is wearing tags.” I returned home and checked the messages. Nothing. I grabbed my car keys and got into my car. I began driving with 2 things in mind. I have no idea which direction she may have headed, and she doesn’t really know her name. Not the one I gave her, and not her previous one either. As I drove I began to develop a plan. I would systematically drive up every street and down every alley within a 2-mile radius of my house, calling her name and whistling as I had done before when calling her to me.

It had long since gotten dark. My gaslight was on and my clutch had begun to smell of misuse after so many hours of neighborhood driving. I was emotionally throttled. My back and legs ached. My eyes burned and felt heavy. I had completed my planned search area and didn’t know where else to go, so I went home.

I checked the voicemail again. Then I broke. I sobbed uncontrollably. I begged, pleaded and prayed … to God, to Abbey herself…. I was gripped with the fear of knowing that my baby-girl was out in the wide world alone and scared. I could see her cowering, as I’d seen her do before, and darting for corners. My bawling prayer was a process; a meditative journey through selfishness. I began with something like, “Please, bring her back to me,” and worked into something like, “Please…. Please… I know that my girl is out there somewhere. It’s so cold outside and I know that she’s scared. Please… just… bring her to a place where she won’t be scared anymore. Please… just help her to not be scared.”

Knowing that my odds of sleeping were scarce, I began to drink… bundled up on the front porch in case she happened to wander by. When I finally got ready for bed, well into the morning hours, I left the gate ajar and the doggy-door, as well as my bedroom door open … hoping, in spite of all reason, that she would just jump up onto my bed while I slept and nestle herself into the crook of my knees.

When I awoke the next morning, I felt that sleep had failed to give me rest. The instinct to survive was the only thing that moved me from my bed. I believed that if I didn’t get up and just go through the motions of a day, I would surely die. My red, puffy eyes refused to open fully. Face flushed, hair tossed, I skipped the shower, threw on whatever and headed for the office.

I checked my voicemail every hour. Nothing. I decided to go home for lunch even though I brought a sandwich. A misplaced over-abundance of hope wanted to see Abbey lounging leisurely on the front porch when I arrived. It wasn’t to be. I arrived home, noticed the gate still ajar, and went inside. The first thing I did was grab the phone and check the messages for the nth time that morning. There was one new message. I caught a sharp breath and pressed the play button.

My prayers had been answered. My little Abbey was no longer scared. She had been hit by a car while crossing a highway near the pet store.

I listened to the message twice, taking down all of the information that the officer gave me. Then I hung up the phone and I crumbled. I fell to the floor on the spot where we had laid together the day before. I could still smell her there, and I spilled onto it, drop by drop, all of my sadness and missing and longing. All of my frustration and fear. And finally, all of my relief and gratitude for an answered prayer.

When I finally forced myself to my feet, I grabbed my keys and headed for the place where the officer said that she was. I had brought my own Kleenex and felt it gathering sweat in my palm as I waited for the next shelter volunteer to help me. After some checking they confirmed that my girl was there by handing me her necklace.

I was asked if I wanted to see her. I did. I touched her face and her neck as I had done for what seemed like a lifetime before. Her hair was coarse. Her body was stiff. The life that I had known was gone from here. The volunteer asked if this was my dog. I nodded into my Kleenex.

I didn’t ask, but she seemed to know how much I needed to take my girl home. Two hours later I returned and was carefully handed a Folgers can full of Abbey’s bones.

“Do you know what I think? I think the Universe used you. I think it was Abbey’s time to go and she needed just one good day full of love and happiness to send her on her way… and you were it.”
“I just don’t understand how I was able to fall so much in love with her so fast.”
“Well, if you hadn’t than you wouldn’t have been able to give Abbey what she needed.”

“Do you really believe that?”
“Yes I do.”
“Thanks, Mom.”