Sunday, July 23, 2017

Chance

Just after I got engaged, I moved back to Houston.  My fiancée stayed in College Station to continue with her genetic research, but there was no work for me there.  I thought I could move back to the big city, find a high-paying job, and set up our future.  Things didn’t really work out like I planned, but that’s for another story.

I would make the hour and a half drive up to College Station every Friday evening after work to spend the weekends with my fiancée before heading back to Houston on Monday morning.  On one of these weekends, my fiancée and I went for a drive in the country.  If you’ve ever been to College Station, you know that there is a lot of rural countryside to drive through around the city.  It was a warm, sunny day, and we were enjoying the drive in my brand new 2003 S10 pickup truck.  We had our windows down, letting the smell of wildflowers waft through the cab of the truck, and we were chatting about something or another.

Suddenly, we saw something dart out in front of the car in front of us.  He didn’t even try to stop, and whatever had run in front of him bounced off the right side of his bumper and went flying off the road.  He kept on driving, but we stopped to see what it was.  We discovered it, lying in the tall grass in the ditch.  It was a dog, or as we were to find out later, a puppy…just two years old.  He was brown, and white, and black with big floppy ears and long lean legs.  If I were to guess, I’d say he was an American Foxhound.

At first, we thought he was dead, his motionless carcass lying there covered in blood, but then he lifted his head just the slightest.  I slowly approached him, not sure how he’d react to my presence, looking over his wounds as I circled him.  He looked bad.  Blood was everywhere, and he was making no attempt to actually stand up or move other than his head.  I knelt down by his head, talking to him in a soothing voice, and I reached out my hand to gently stroke his neck.  He just stared at me with his chocolate-colored eyes.  I didn’t know how badly he was hurt, but I did know that if we didn’t get him to a hospital soon, that he would die. 

So, with my fiancée’s help, I managed to slide my arms under him as gently as possible and pick him up.  His long legs were hanging limply beneath him as I carried him to the truck.  I didn’t want to put him inside, because of the blood, but I also didn’t want to just throw him into the back of the truck.  Somehow, I managed to hike my backend up on the tailgate and scoot back, while still holding him in my arms.  I slide back, so my fiancée could shut the tailgate, and then I laid him gentle in my lap.  He never fussed or attempted to move.  He just laid there with his head resting on my leg.

With my fiancée behind the wheel, we began the 20 min drive back to the city.  I kept stroking his head, telling him that he was going to make it, hoping that my voice could soothe him and ease the pain I know he must have been feeling.  At some point during the drive back, he lifted his head to look at me, and our eyes locked.  Something passed between us…it was strange.  It was like he was talking to me with his eyes, and I could understand exactly what he was saying.  He said, “I don’t know you, but I know you’re a kind soul.  I trust you to take care of me.  Thank you for pulling over.”  I kid you not, it was as if someone had said those words out loud.  I knew somehow that that was what he was saying to me.

He held my gaze for a minute longer, and then satisfied that I had understood him, he placed his head back on my leg.  I kept stroking his head, and I said, “God sent me to find you.  He’s going to make you better.  He’s going to give you a second chance.  I know you’re hurting, but just hang on a little longer.”

After what seemed like an eternity, we finally pulled into the small animal hospital attached to the university.  I gently picked him up again, scooted to the back of the truck, and dropped down.  My fiancée was already at the door, talking to the nurse inside, when I carried him in.  They directed me to an exam room, where I placed him on the table, and a doctor immediately went to work examining him.

We stepped outside to give the nurse some details about the accident and what we knew of his condition.  She said that it would probably take an hour or so to run all of the tests, and we gave her our number and asked to be notified when they had the results.  On our way out of the door, I remembered what I had said to him in the truck, and I turned back to the nurse.  I said, “I don’t want him to just be called ‘dog’ or something generic like that.  I called him ‘Chance’ because God gave him a second chance.”  She smiled at me, and said, “I understand.  I’ll note that in his file.”

Chance was indeed a lucky dog.  He had a broken hip, but would make a full recover with time.  The nurse told us that we could adopt him, if we wanted, but it would take a lot of money and time to rehabilitate him.  As much as I wanted to, I knew that we weren’t in a position to give him the home that he deserved.  They sponsored him in the Good Samaritan program, so that all of his bills would be paid by donations.  When he had fully recovered, they’d put him up for adoption and find him a good home.

I know that I had only spent about a half an hour with the little guy, but I had already fallen in love with him.  We had an incomprehensible connection.  Something happened in the back of that truck, that I still can’t explain to this day.  We bonded.  Even after we decided to give him up, I was still agonizing over the decision.  The next day, my fiancée found me crying in the living room.  She didn’t ask, she didn’t have to.  She just wrapped her arms around me in a hug and let me cry.

It’s been 14 years, and I still think about Chance.  He’s probably moved on to Heaven by now.  I hope he had a good life.  I hope God put him with people that loved him.  I sometimes wonder if I made the right decision letting him go.  Our life was crazy, especially those first five or six years, so I believe I probably did.  But still…it would have been nice to lavish him with the love he deserved.

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