Pat Davids here.
I have to complain about this. Our quiet, sleepy neighborhood has become a mess. The city is repairing a main bridge on our end of town and all the traffic is being rerouted past our block. It's a sand street and I am living in a Kansas dust bowl as dump trucks and heavy equipment rumble past our house all day long raising clouds of choking gray dust. I wish it would rain.
Then yesterday, out of the dust, came a young visitor. She barely got out of the way of a speeding car.
She doesn't have a name. She has a collar but no tags and a tail that wags in spite of her thinness. You wouldn't believe how thirsty she was. I think she just got lost in all the confusion and changing traffic patterns. I don't recognize her from our neighborhood.
My yellow lab, Sadie, didn't care to have her home invaded, but I couldn't leave this poor girl out on her own. After some stiff-legged growls and a huff or two, they decided to be friends and chase each other around the yard.
How strange is it that when our lives seem all a mess and nothing is going right, God sends us a small reminder to be grateful for the little things. Like a bowl of water, a new friend and our own loving home.
I've been trying to think of a name for my visitor. I know I can't keep her. I've put up signs to direct her owner this way. I hope someone wants her. She's so sweet. Tomorrow, if no one claims her, she'll go to our no-kill shelter. Did you know black dog are hard to adopt out? Who could not want those pretty eyes and wagging tail. Perhaps her white markings will make her more acceptable.
I thought of Twinkle Toes for a name. She got those cute white feet. Or maybe Lucky Lady because the car missed her. Blacky just won't do. Okay writers and readers. I need a name for this girl. I'm not taking her to the shelter without one.