It had been an agonizing night at work for me. I kept busy, although my mind was on what might be waiting at home. Finally, the graveyard shift clocked in, and I, literally, ran to the computer to clock-out, then grab my coat and keys, and barely said goodnight to my co-workers.

God tells us not to be anxious. I quietly kept reminding myself, “whatever happens is for the best and his time is not our time.” Should this be God’s time? After crossing the bridge, would she wait for me? When it was time for us to meet again, we could take our walks along with the others that had been rescued from their pain, but didn’t make it. They would be forever young and bask in the love that would be so much deserved.

When I arrived home, and, in the light from the hallway, I saw her form on the sofa. She hadn’t made a move or offer to lift her head nor greet me as she usually did. My heart went nearly to my throat. I removed my coat and hung it on the chair then turned the kitchen light, and still, no movement. She was fourteen now, her black, and, where once was a deep mahogany, now turned gray, hair was gleaming in the dim light. I started to choke. She had finished with the antibiotics prescribed from her surgery and seemed to be recovering, and now, this! Could it be an unforeseen reaction?

As I sat on the sofa next to her, I looked for movement from her chest area. I put my fingers lightly behind her forearm to check for a heartbeat. She had been so sick vomiting. The poor thing had nothing left in her. Poison, and I had always tried to be so careful. Could it be a flipped intestine from severe “gas?” It was an uncertainty for me. I had been forcing fluids and feeding plain yogurt, while keeping my natural healing book close at hand. Her health had declined so fast. I was having difficulty feeling the heart beat. Her eyes were slits and half-opened. I’m thinking, “oh no, is she saying good-bye?”

Using my one hand, I started a light massage of her spine and sides, while checking her breathing with the other hand. She had not made a move. If she were really dying, wouldn’t she be more stretched? Finally, the third or fourth try of checking her breathing, I detected the slightest of moves, and, as I massaged down her legs and feet, she kicked her back legs just a bit. Her eyes started to open more though no lifting of head as yet.

Okay, I will take a chance. As I lifted her little body, she groaned and started to move. I placed her on the floor with my hands ready to catch, should she fall. Mary gave a small shake. Still wobbly, she took a few sleepy steps to her dog bed. No problem with her sleeping in her own bed tonight, though, I would listen for her light small snores. Had she been in such a deep sleep or did God decide to give us more time together?