A Dog Named Fancy

Someone once said that “every exit is just an entrance.”

And so it was after Olaf passed away. To say we were devastated by the loss of our little companion would be an understatement. But as we went through the process of grieving him, I began to realize that Grief is a Leadership function. Unfortunately, I’ve never seen an FM (Field Manual) on the subject. Actually, I had. Trouble is, when you try doing something on your own, it often times doesn’t work out.

What I should have done was pulled out the FM to end all FMs, The Bible. In it, I would have found this little nugget in Psalm 147: He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds. Maybe it was a good thing I hadn’t found it. After all, my poor baby was crying her eyes out over Olaf. I’d have been left in that weird place between faith and “Right!”

Not knowing what to do, but needing to do something, I began the search for another pet.

After all, there was no way, no how I was going to raise that little dog from the dead. The best I could do was find another dog. And before long, I had everyone looking. Our pastor was looking. Our kids were looking. We were finding a lot of small dogs, but nothing was coming of the search.

My trouble is I wasn’t praying much about the search. I showed Julie what was out there and she shook her head. She was hurting way more than me. But she said something that became a prayer. “If God wants me to have another dog, I want it to be a little girl and a rescue puppy!”

Sounds like a triple dog dare kind of prayer to me.

That kind of prayer didn’t go unanswered for long. Within the hour, the phone rang. It was our groomer. She knew of a breeder who had to get the animal control officers involved with a pet she’d sold to someone. The animal was being starved, abused, and was very sick. And it was a little girl.

The officers had taken the dog out of the situation and the breeder, desperate to find it a home began throwing out feelers.

With the prayer answered, we went a picked her up. As we drove, Julie was wondering what to name her. We’re both Reba fans and felt the name “Fancy” fit her.

Our first look was heartbreaking. Here’s this tiny animal so traumatized that all she could do was sit. She didn’t bark. She didn’t growl. What fur she had was matted and the rest was falling out. She was thin.

The scariest part was the emptiness in her eyes. She was living in darkness. Someone said that Darkness is not the absence of light. Darkness is the conviction that the light will never return. And that’s where she was. No hope equaled no light.

Our groomer had told us to bring her right over once we picked her up and she’d clean her up. When she finished and we picked Fancy. Only then did we think she might live up to her name. She’d been bathed, her hair cut, and she had little bows in her hair.

We got her home. Despite looking better, she was still very sick and very hurt. Someplace along the way, her nose had been broken and she didn’t even know how to eat dog food. Finally, we got her to eat a little. We were very concerned she wasn’t going to last the week, but we decided she’d know at least someone loved her if she should die.

The next day, I took her to the pet hospital. The vet that day was an older man and learning she was a rescue puppy, gave her a couple of shots and some medication for her stomach. He recommended I try feeding her chicken from the deli. Suprise of surprises, she ate it.

Slowly, we began getting her built back up. One of the most interesting things I noted about her was that she didn’t know how to be dog. Taking her outside was an exercise in terror for her. The yard seemed to be a mysterious and frightening place to her. The only thing to do was stand out there with her. But as she saw Shadow running about, she slowly began to get the idea that the place was safe.

While she trusted Julie after a few days, I was a different matter. It was a couple of weeks before she even began warming up to me. One of the things that did it was Julie went with the girls someplace. I sat down in Julie’s chair and made a cradle of sorts between my legs. With a blanket over us and with Shadow resting with us, and a totally boring documentary on TV, she finally began to relax around me. But for a long time, if I put on a ball cap, she’d bark and growl at me and run and hide.

She also didn’t know how to play with toys. I got some of the toys we bought her, got on the floor, and pretended to be a puppy playing with them. Inviting her in, she got the idea and today loves her toys.

Now, she’s a princess and lives up to her name.

I still see the stuff learned when she was younger. She hugs the walls when she’s moving around the house. And like some rescue dogs, she walks slightly hunched.

But she knows she’s loved.