She Chose Me (Completed)

Okay, I'm back. The trip and putting everything away took longer than I expected. Here's the complete story. : )



I sat like a blob of forgotten oatmeal by the window in my bedroom, watching dust particles dancing merrily in the rays of the late afternoon sun, and wondering, for the thousandth time, why life was so unfair to eleven year olds. It didn’t matter I had loving parents, a solid roof over my head, plenty to eat, and my own horse, which was more some of my classmates had; the fact was, I wanted a dog. There were dogs at my house, but these were work dogs, used for working with cattle. I wanted a dog that was solely mine; a willing body that fetched the ball when I threw it instead of walking by in cold indifference, a you’ve-got-to-be-kidding-me look on their canine faces.

The whine of a diesel truck in the drive interrupted my pity party, and I bounded like a deer through the foyer. “Mama, Daddy’s home!” I yelled as I ran outside, slamming the heavy oak door behind me. . I just have to beat those stupid dogs to the truck this time, I thought as I ran down the drive to the barn where the truck sat silent. In my opinion, even though it was far from true, the dogs were competition for my dad’s attention, and I wasn’t about to let them get to Daddy first. My legs churned like pistons, and my lungs ached as I drew in huge breaths of the nippy October air. Nevertheless, alas, when I arrived, puffing like a steam engine, there sat Daddy’s beloved white German Shepherd, Snowball, in the back of the truck. The other dogs frolicked around Daddy as he spoke gently and rubbed them behind their ears. Hey, what’s going on here? I wondered. There, shoving his huge body against Daddy’s legs was Snowball. I looked at the truck again; still seated in the back was a white German Shepherd. My heart soared as if it had wings, then crashed to the pit of my stomach. No use in getting too excited, I thought glumly, just another work dog. “So, what do you think about your new dog?” Daddy asked, untangling himself from the mass of wriggling canine bodies and walking toward me. “He’s okay I guess. He’s—“ I stopped in mid-sentence as my daddy’s words sunk in to my brain. My joy was boundless as I threw myself against my daddy and engulfed him in a bear hug. “He’s truly mine? I have my own dog?” Oh please don’t let this be a dream, I prayed.

I pushed away from Dad and turned toward the truck. “Hey boy, you’re mine!” I yelled.

The dog barked nervously, then backed into a corner of the truck bed, whining and shaking like a leaf.

“Hey, take it easy,” Daddy said, placing a calloused hand on my shoulder. “First of all, it’s a ‘she’, not a ‘he’. Secondly, this poor pup has had a hard life. It’s going to take her a while to trust people again.”

Slowly, I lowered the tailgate and sat on the edge. A lump the size of a golf ball formed in my throat as I got my first clear view of my new friend. Her sides resembled a washboard, and a pair of bat-like ears, too large for her emaciated body, were laid flat against her head. “Hey baby, I’m not gonna hurt you,” I mumbled.

“Let her come to you,” Daddy said softly, “it all has to be her decision. She’s had too many things forced on her.”

“Where did you get her? How much did she cost?”

“Nothing. I was checking on one of my crews working on the road when I saw a young man beating this dog with a broomstick. I gave him an option; either he could give me the dog, or I’d call the sheriff’s office and file a report against him for animal cruelty.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the dog inching closer to me. Soon I felt the warmness of her body against my hip, and her wet nose gently nudging my hand. Hot tears rolled down my cheeks as I looked down at her and saw the hurt and uncertainty showing in her coffee-brown eyes. She cringed as I lifted my hand to pet her, but sighed deeply and rested her head heavily on my knee as I scratched her behind the ears. “It’s okay baby; no one will ever harm you again.”

“Looks like she’s made her decision, “ Daddy said warmly, a grin on his darkly tanned, weather-worn face “What are you going to call her?”

“Snowflake.” I said.

From that moment on, we were inseparable. For two glorious years, she was companion through all my adventures. Every morning she danced by my side with the grace of a butterfly as I waited for the school bus; every afternoon she was there, standing by the mailbox, her body quivering with anticipation as the bus brought me home.

One bone-chilling October afternoon, Snowflake was absent from her place at the mailbox. “Hey, where’s the pooch?” the bus driver asked as the bus doors opened with a swoosh.

“I-I don’t know,” I replied distractedly as I walked down the steps. I called her name, but there was no white blur racing toward me, no dog happily licking my hand. Instead, my mother appeared at the front door. This can’t be good. My heart raced like a car stuck in neutral, and my legs felt as if they were made of lead as I walked to the front porch.

“Mama, where’s my dog?”

“Honey come inside, it’s too cold out here,” she said, taking me by the hand.

I didn’t like how she avoided eye contact, didn’t like how she avoided the question. “WHERE IS MY DOG?” I insisted.

Mama put her arm around my shoulders. “Honey, Snowflake was in the road today, and she was hit by a car. She’s—“

I jerked away from Mama as if she were poison. “NO!” I screamed, “I don’t want to hear this!”

“She’s not suffering anymore. You—“

“You’re lying to me! How could you say such a cruel thing to your child!” I sobbed.

“I took her to the vet; there was nothing he could do,” Mama insisted as a river of tears coursed down her face.”

“I lied to her,” I screeched. “I promised her no one would harm her, now she’s dead.”

“My dear sweet child,” Mama sobbed, embracing me in a bear hug, “you didn’t lie to her. There’s nothing you could have done to save her.”

In the years that followed, there was a revolving door of dogs in my life, but I kept them at arm’s length; I was fond of them, but never allowed them to win over my heart. In my mind, there was no dog that could compare to my Snowflake, and I was unwilling to give any of them a chance. That was fine with my husband, and for years, I went "dogless".

Last October, my son burst into the house after school. “Mama, come quickly. There’s a dog in the bushes.”

Oh great, another mutt to chase off. Walking outside, I saw a dog lying under the bushes, regarding my coolly with a pair of ice-blue eyes.

“I’ve never seen a dog with eyes that color. What kind is it?” Seth babbled.

“I don’t know,” I mumbled. “C’mere fella,” I called to the pooch. . I gasped in disbelief as the dog yawned, and stretched luxuriously before strutting toward me. “ It’s a Malamute!” I proclaimed, noticing the curled tail and the coat pattern. "A dog like that belongs to someone.”

After a few calls, I found his name was “Blue,” and he belonged to my neighbor down the road. Happy to be reunited with his lost pooch, my neighbor took Blue back home. For a week, the dog came to my house, and my neighbor too him back home. Finally, after the seventh visit, the neighbor grumpily announced he was giving me the dog. “After all, it’s obvious he wants to stay here,” he said as Blue nudged my hand with his nose.

I was elated, Blue had “grown” on me, and had done something no dog since Snowflake had accomplished, he found his way into my heart. I knew Snowflake wouldn’t mind; after all, she sent him to choose me.