I lasted 44 days without a dog. As fate, or luck, would have it, I was wandering around Wayland one Friday afternoon, when I spied a used furniture shop. Never one to pass up used anything, I stopped in. It was a nice shop, and there was a real nice lady running it, the first lady of Wayland, the mayor’s wife, Sonya Roth. I noticed she was eying me as I poked around the store. Finally she said, “You just had a dog pass away, Holly Girl, right? I read your article in the newspaper.”
“Yes,” I sighed. “Holly Dog was fifteen.”
“Well,” she said, with a gleam in her eye. “I’m the unofficial dog savior of Wayland, and I have a real nice two-year-old male at a temporary home right here in Wayland. He’s a smallish dog, house trained, and-neutered, with all his shots. And he’s free.”
She had said the magic word. Foolish me, I asked, “What kind of dog is he?” like I was just being polite.
Sonya had me and she knew it. “He’s a mix, maybe a Lhasa Apso/Schnauzer cross. The kind that doesn’t shed.”
That did it. Sonya and I drove out to the people’s house who were caring for the dog. They were a real nice couple, Ken and Janice Rich. The minute I saw Freddie, and he jumped in my arms and licked my face, I knew I wanted him. He even had a fresh haircut. The Rich’s sent Freddie home with me with some food and a leash. I offered to pay them for their care, but they refused.
Freddie (now Buddy) snuggled up on my lap on the car trip home.
My phone rang. It was a client asking where I was. A sinking feeling hit my gut. I had completely spaced out an appointment, and had been wandering around Wayland like I was lost. Maybe I was. I dunno, but offhand, I would say Buddy was meant to be.