Sometimes Miracles Happen

Normally, I never let my dogs loose in the city.

On this late winter afternoon however, as I shifted the bag of groceries I was carrying, they somehow managed to wiggle from my grasp, tearing off, side by side with leashes trailing.

They were two little fugitives running free.

Feeling foolish, I sped after them calling their names, "SEPTEMBER SNOW! SCRAPPY!" I hollered, racing down the snowy sidewalk in a wasted effort to catch them.

Running through the snow with a bag of groceries isn't easy, so I simply dropped it. Perhaps I would return for the burst bag, perhaps I wouldn't.

At the moment, my escapees were nearing the intersection and I was getting worried.

Calling after them again, I darted between an older couple out for a walk, brushing the man aside as I passed. "Hey!" he scolded, wagging a finger at my back, "watch where you're going!"

The wintertime sunset in the cold city is beautiful to behold, but at the moment, it was merely an annoyance that blocked my vision.

Raising a hand to shield my eyes as I scanned the corner for my pups, my wind was getting short, and I fell into doubt as they reached it.

Time really does slow down for someone witnessing the unthinkable...

September Snow, my Maltese, couldn't stop in time. Feet skidding, she launched off the icy curb, directly into the path of the oncoming car. I could only watch in horror, welded to the spot, as my snow-white dog disappeared beneath it.

Riding over her body without a second's thought, the guy simply drove on, continuing about his world without so much as a backward glance.

My world changed forever in that second.

Despite the cold tears and the sick lump in my stomach, I prayed, hoped, and prayed against hope, that somehow, someway, God would let me find my precious puppy alive as I approached the corner.

But there, lying in the slushy street was the battered form of my little September Snow.

Kneeling in the wet, dirty sludge, I lifted her gently from the road, lowered my face and wailed.

The walls of my heart were demolished into tiny pieces that cut fiercely as they poured out from every opening onto her still warm body.

When Scrappy's whines finally reached my ears, I saw him pacing back and forth on the corner. By the look on his face, I could see that he knew something was terribly, terribly wrong. "She's gone boy," I choked through my sobs.

A small crowd of people had begun to gather around us expressing their shock and sympathies, the couple that I had rushed past earlier among them.

"Tough luck son," the old man said. Placing a gentle hand on my shoulder, he tried to comfort me. "But sometimes, miracles happen..."

Rising to my feet, I barely heard him. With my dog's lifeless body at my chest, I took Scrappy by the leash in my other hand and started home, weeping as we went.

Scrappy jumped and pawed, whining at my knees the whole way. Like me, I believe he was trying hard to comprehend why only moments ago, little September Snow, who'd been running along side him free as the wind, now lay silent in my arms.

#

I buried her in the back yard at home.

Marking the tiny grave with a small wooden cross nailed together in the garage, the old man's words played over in my head as I worked. "Tough luck son...sometimes miracles happen."

Sure they do.

It would have been a miracle had I not lost control of my dogs.

If only I'd been paying more attention instead of struggling with that stupid bag of groceries, my innocent puppy would be alive, instead of buried beneath the frozen yard.

Her death was my fault and I hated myself for it.

After begging her forgiveness, I threw the shovel in the shed and went in. If only there was some way to go back in time, if only I could relive the moment before they'd slipped out of my hand...maybe I could have changed everything.

But there wasn't, and I couldn't.

"Sometimes miracles happen," I muttered sarcastically, dropping into bed.

My eyes and heart were heavy. With Scrappy nestled in the crook of my arm, I drifted off to sleep and dreamt of September Snow running through fields and meadows.

#

"Hey! Stop it Scrappy...Stop!" I hate it when he licks my face first thing in morning. "STOP!" I scolded again, pushing him away.

As I turned under the covers, it suddenly crashed in on me.

That wasn't Scrappy!

Throwing my eyes open I jammed bolt right up in bed, forcing myself awake.

Incredibly, there, before me, somehow, was my precious September Snow, whole as the day she was born!

Swooping her up with her feet dangling, she licked my face over and over, as I searched her doggy eyes with disbelief.

Had it all been a dream?

Releasing her again, she dropped to the bed, and chased her tail in circles, barking excitedly, as if to tell me that sometimes miracles happen.

END