When The Universe Brings Us What We Need

Seven years ago, Rick and I lost our third dog in 2 years to cancer. We were devastated. We had returned home a day early from our annual ski trip to say goodbye to Allie. She was a sweet pit bull / mastiff mix that we had fostered, then adopted. We decided to wait a few months before getting another dog. There was no one to feed or walk and our home was eerily quiet. Two days after saying goodbye to Allie, all of the dog beds, bowls, toys and leashes had been put away. It was a Sunday morning around 8 am. Rick had gone to work and I was still in my pajamas. I was tired, my knee was swollen from our ski trip and I was profoundly sad. I heard a knock on the front door. When I opened it, a man from the neighborhood told me that my puppy was in my driveway. I told him that I didn’t have a puppy. He said he couldn’t take a puppy because his dog, who was laying on my lawn, didn’t like other dogs. Just then, a tiny brown puppy with a white tipped tail and black coloring on her face and back, trotted up the front walkway, past the man and into my life. In my entryway, she looked up at me and let me pick her up. She was soft and cuddled her face into my neck. It was a done deal. I took a picture of her and texted Rick, making sure to show him that I was still in my pajamas and couldn’t have left the house yet. “She just showed up at the front door!” I texted.

Later that day I hung up signs at the cluster of mailboxes, on my car and a few other places. I walked her around and asked if anyone was missing her. We didn’t name her for a week, just in case she wasn’t really ours. She settled right in like she knew the place. She cried like a baby in her crate and curled up on my chest to fall asleep. We all bonded hard and our grief was silently eased. We told ourselves that Allie sent her, knowing that we were lost without a dog at home. We eventually named our puppy Roxy Marvel, our own rambunctious miracle.

I don’t know how Roxy came to our driveway and I don’t know the man who knocked on our door. I do know that Roxy has made a profoundly positive impact on our lives. As dogs inevitably do. She is funny and kind; she thinks I am smart and beautiful. We are good pals and share all of our secrets. We sleep in the same bed and often eat the same food. Now that I work from home, I’m able to spend more time with Roxy. We both like that very much. We play in the morning and take an afternoon walk. I share my carrots at snack break with her and she lays by my desk or watches over me from bed.

I am learning to trust that the universe will take care of me and I only need to look at her face to remember that it already has.