A few years ago, someone dumped a huge white dog at the end of my road. It was the seventh dog dumped in that location in less than a year.
At first, I thought the dog belonged to the man who lived at the property where it had been hanging out, but soon realized it was another abandoned animal. Ugh! I cringed at the thought.
The dog began spending time in and near the road, looking emaciated and desperate, and I knew I had to do something post haste. When I brought the dog some food, it ate ravenously, and, up close, it appeared even more pitiful – skeletally thin and flea ridden, with patches of hair missing on its body.
My neighbor caught me feeding the stray dog – not on his property, but near it – and came charging out. He gave me a tongue lashing and threatened to shoot the dog if I didn’t keep it from trespassing on his land. Now, mind you, the poor, sickly animal, which turned out to be female, had been hanging out on his property for the past month, yet he didn’t seem to care one way or the other, until I started feeding her.
“Get that dog off my property, or I’m going to shoot it!” he threatened in a thick tongue. Clearly, he’d had one too many beers.
I asked “Grumpy,” as he is known, to please give me a few days to find a home or foster care for the hapless creature, and he agreed, but not without some theatrics, insisting that the dog “better be off his property in two days” – Sunday evening – or he’d take matters into his own hands.
That gave me two days to save the dog’s life.
The couple of days came and went quickly, and in spite of “putting out the fleece” in every direction, no one could, or perhaps would, help.
When I stopped to feed the dog Sunday evening, the man – angry, drunk, and verbally combative – again came out to meet me. He was soon joined by his equally-inebriated brother and nephew, so now it was three against one. Grumpy reminded me that the “grace period” was up. I begged him to give me two more days and then drove away, headed for Sunday evening service.
Pulling into the church parking lot, I prayed, “Lord, please give me a word from the pastor tonight.”
As it so happened, the pastor spoke that evening about Peter walking on water, and, immediately, I perked up when he noted that too often we look at the ‘limitations instead of the possibilities’ of a situation. He went on to say that so long as we’re sure the Lord has said, ‘Come,’ as He did to Peter, then we can trust Him with the details.
Taking the pastor’s words to heart, I left feeling much relieved about the ordeal, for surely God had His hand in the situation and would oversee the matter.
The following morning I posted an ad for the dog on our local Craigslist site, praying and trusting God to find her a good home. That very same evening, a man who lives in Savannah, Georgia, replied to the post.
“Mike,” the potential adopter, said he felt sure this was the dog for him. He went on to say that one of his dogs had recently died of cancer and that he wanted another “white dog”— one in need of “rescuing.” After checking out his social media page and seeing that his other dogs were loved and well cared for, I agreed to let him have the dog. He said he’d pick her up the next day, on Tuesday. I’d pleaded with Grumpy to give me till then.
The following afternoon I walked to Grumpy’s and called for the dog. She did not come. I called a second time, but, again, no response. She had always come right away before. Mike was on his way from Savannah, and after more waiting, I called a third time.
“God is in the details,” I thought, and suddenly, over a little knoll, I saw the great, white “gentle giant” coming toward me.
True to his word, Mike made the 700-mile round trip to pick up his new pooch.
The hardest part was saying “good-bye,” but I knew the dog was going to a secure and enduring home, so she and I looked into each other’s eyes a final time and parted. I felt her saying, “Please keep me,” as Mike picked up his new friend and lifted her gently into his SUV.
As it turned out, Mike was a dream owner.
He took “Lilly-Grace” to the vet the following morning, where she was diagnosed with two kinds of mange, three types of internal parasites, fleas, and was found to be thirty pounds underweight. She wasn’t an adult dog, as first thought, but a huge six-month-old puppy.
Mike had his hands full, bathing his new pet every day for two weeks and putting up with smelly diarrhea at all hours of the day and night. However, three months later, Lilly-Grace looked like a “supermodel.” She blossomed beautifully under Mike’s tender loving care and quickly became a member of the family, playing happily with her adopted “brother and sister,” two Aussie Shepherds.
Mike wrote of her on social media, “She stole my heart the first moment I saw her. So happy she picked us.”
Lilly-Grace is my Cinderella story. I’m not sure how it happens that a man from Savannah, Georgia, looking for a “white dog to rescue” clicks on a Craigslist ad, posted 350 miles from where he lives, and ends up making a 700mile trip to adopt her, but I believe there’s only one possibility: God answers prayers, and He works in mysterious ways. Experiences such as this one have taught me that a little faith goes a long way. And here’s the frosting on the cake: The man who adopted her is the nephew of a nationally-known Christian author and speaker.
Yes, I believe God was in the details.
The author of this article can be reached via email at info@troupcountynews. net.