3 ANGELS

 4221

Pt. 1

In 1996 a precious little white Shih Tzu puppy wandered into our yard. While it is unlikely that she had been “chipped,” almost 30 years ago, I admit I didn’t “go out of the way” to discover her rightful owners. We simply took her in, and made her our own.

I don’t recall how we named her, but I know what we named her. And what we named her was contrary to her gender. We called her “Buddy.” However, in the context of my story, it is important to understand that our daughter, “Margie,” referred to her as “Angel.”

Buddy, (or Angel, as the case may be), experienced a malady which was common to her breed. She experienced allergies which could only be controlled by steroidal medication. Without the medication, she would have scratched her eyes out, (and, sadly, some have).

I have previously written several stories about Buddy. (As a matter of fact, I have written a book about two of our little dearly departed pooches, our little Angel Buddy, and a Corgi named “Lucy”). As a result, I will spare you an elaborate account of her life here.

However, whenever I write about Buddy, it is important for me to say the same thing I have said numerous times in the past. I believe Buddy fulfilled her mission here better than some people ever do.

When we first got her, and I, (I am sorry to say), kept her in the garage for a few days, we heard the door go up in the wee hours of the morning. Buddy began barking, and the door immediately went back down. I discovered some greasy footprints on the driveway the next day.

I suppose it was a couple years later, and our daughter was separated from her husband, and had moved in with my wife and me. As she was lying down one morning, our little pooch pitter pattered into the room, and jumped up into the bed.

At this point, I walked up to the door, and invited my little pooch to accompany me to the post office. Buddy ignored me. She had a task to fulfill.

Then, there was the time my wife was feeling like the weight of the world was on her shoulders. She confessed that as she lay in bed one afternoon, she almost literally felt like she was being pressed into the mattress. Interestingly enough, our little Buddy had been following her around the house for several days. As you might imagine, I urged her to go to the doctor. “Janice” contacted her physician, and he recommended a mammogram. The mammogram indicated a small malignant tumor that was in the process of permeating the duct. Thankfully, the tumor was detected in time, it was removed, and numerous radiation treatments followed.

Yes, our little Angel fulfilled her mission.

Pt. 2

In retrospect, it would appear our little Buddy’s life was shortened as the result of her allergy medication. For you see, rather than living 17 or 18 years, she was only granted 11.

Her condition deteriorated in the course of a week. And that last night, well, it seemed interminable.

My wife, an LPN, has told me that Buddy’s symptoms that night were reminiscent of human beings experiencing heart failure. My precious pooch always slept on a pillow at the end of my bed. On that last night on the last day of February 2006, she was all over the bed. Her breathing was erratic. Long, extended breaths, and, subsequently, extremely rapid breathing. Her tongue was a pasty white. I knew she was in the throes of death. My wife, who has seen many people go on to their reward asked me how I was able to stand it. I told her I simply could not not be there for her, as difficult as it was to be with her throughout that long, awful night.

The next morning our precious pooch was just barely hanging on. I had a couple of phone calls to make, and so I gently lifted our little Angel in my arms, walked into the living room, and laid her down in her doggie bed; just below the television.

Now, I stepped into the dining room, dialed a number on my flip phone, and chatted with, (coincidentally enough), a Dominican man named Angel. Finishing my phone call, I walked back into the living room to check on Buddy. She looked so peaceful lying there. Kneeling down, I could tell was no longer with us. In that short space of time that I was on the phone, her angel had come for her.

And the irony overwhelmed me.

I had been speaking to a man named Angel, when our little Angel was visited by her own personal angel.

I love the words of Psalm 36:6.

“The Lord preserves both mankind and animals alike.”

I am convinced that I will see our little Angel again.

by Bill McDonald, PhD