Blessed by a Daisy
Blessed by a Daisy
She wasn't sure about getting a new dog, but someone up above knew she was ready.
Daisies are my favorite flower. Anything with daisies gets my attention–even the word on my computer screen. “Please help save Daisy the Dog!” my friend Judy had posted on Facebook. The message included a picture of a pit bull mix. She looks a lot like Allie, I thought.
Our beloved Staffordshire Terrier had died a year and a half before. I couldn’t imagine replacing her. But I also couldn’t stop myself from reading the post. The picture had come from a Facebook app called Pet Pardons, which helped people find homes for shelter animals scheduled to be put to sleep.
Daisy’s number was up on Monday. Today was the Friday before, and the shelter was located 200 miles away, clear across the state. There was a name and a phone number to call below the picture. Call right now , a voice inside me said.
Getting a dog was a big commitment. Certainly not one I could make without even talking about it with my husband, Shannon, and I wouldn’t be able to reach him at work. Call right now, the voice urged. I picked up the phone and left a message at the number in the post.
“I want to adopt Daisy,” I said, and hung up with my stomach tied in knots. Frankly, I wasn’t ready for another dog. I was still grieving for Allie. And what would Shannon say when he got home from work?
Despite all my doubts, something told me I’d done the right thing. It was as if Daisy was already mine and always had been. My heart was sure.
I was still at the computer when my son Daniel came into the room. I expected him to laugh when I told him what I’d done, maybe ask why I hadn’t consulted the family. Instead he looked at the picture and said, “Call again. You have to make sure your message got through.”
Before I could pick up the phone Shannon walked in. He was holding a pile of letters from the mailbox, and a package he laid on the counter.
“Honey,” I said, “I’ve got something to tell you.” I confessed what I’d done and showed him the picture on my screen.
Shannon just stared at it.
“I know you must be shocked that I’d call about adopting a dog without consulting you.... Her name’s Daisy,” I said by way of explanation. “Please, say something. I’m really sorry.”
“It’s the strangest thing,” he said finally, “but I feel like she’s supposed to be ours.”
Now we seemed to be shocking one another, all three of us having the same exact reaction. What was going on? Could we trust our impulsive inclinations? I jumped when the phone rang.
“Daisy is a sweet, friendly girl,” said the woman from Pet Pardons. I explained that this was a rash decision on our part.
“We don’t want any more disappointments for Daisy. Why don’t you pray on it tonight?” the woman said. “Give me a call when you know how you really feel.”
“Well, what do you think?” I asked Shannon and Daniel when I hung up.
“I think it’s weird to agree to adopt a dog we’ve never met,” Shannon said. “She could have all sorts of problems. We might not like her.”
“She might not like us,” Daniel pointed out.
I didn’t need to hear all the reasons not to adopt Daisy. I was already thinking them myself. So while the guys talked I distracted myself opening the brown package that had come in the mail. It was from a friend from out of town.
“We’ve never even really talked about getting another dog,” Shannon said. “How can we take a chance without even meeting her?”
He looked to me for an answer, but at that moment I couldn’t speak. I’d pulled out a little plaque from the box, along with a note. “I saw this today and thought of you,” my friend had written.
The plaque was an inscription from Hebrews 11:1. “Faith is being sure of what we hope for,” I read out loud, “and certain of what we do not see.”
For a second everyone looked at one another. Then we both burst out laughing. “I guess we have our answer,” Shannon said.
I called right back and said we would definitely adopt Daisy. The woman pulled Daisy from the shelter on Monday and kept her until we could make the trip. One week later we drove across Mississippi to pick her up. Daisy greeted us like old friends, as if she’d been waiting her whole life to see us.
She knew she was ours, just as we did. Maybe an angel had told her so. I know an angel told us.
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