An Unexpected Gift

We had just put our dog Lola to sleep.

A few months earlier, she had stopped eating and I took her in to the vet to find out why.

It was cancer.

It had started in her spleen and spread to her liver.

She was 11. Old enough to have enjoyed a good life, but I knew, she could have lived longer. Our options were to say goodbye that night, do nothing and possibly experience a traumatic spleen rupture, or they could take the spleen out and that would give her some more time. But probably only about 3 months. We decided to do the surgery and planned to make the last 3 months with her special.

She was, after all, our first baby.

When we finally had to say goodbye, I was in the midst of training for a half marathon that was happening in a month. The daily runs took my mind off of my depression…a little.

As a stay at home mom, Lola and I had spent a lot of time, a lot of years and a lot of life together. She knew all the times I’d cried on the floor during my years as a new mom.

She was my friend.

Coming into the house was now a sad occasion. It was an all too frequent reminder that there would be no Lola there, holding her toy and wagging her tail with happiness that her family had returned home.

On the way back from the half-marathon in San Diego, we surprised our kids by stopping to pick up  this sweet little girl.

Lily lifted the dark clouds. I would still look at Lola’s picture and cry, but now I had this little girl to take care of and love.

I have to admit, I wasn’t prepared for a puppy.

Lola was 2 when we adopted her and was lovely and well behaved. This was a baby. With baby impulses and a baby’s lack of control. But she grew with us, and we got to experience this dog as she learned how to be a big girl. Something we never got to do with Lola.

The children especially bonded with her, and gained a sense of responsibility for this little life that had joined our family. And she gave us all the unconditional love a dog has to offer.

And I had a new buddy.

She didn’t stand nicely at the door with her toy waiting for me to come in like Lola did, but would bound through the doggie door when I opened the garage, not paying attention to the fact that a car was coming in.

And if it was dad coming home, she reserved a joyful sprint through the cul-de-sac, which was always followed by him yelling her name through gritted teeth and chasing her while apologizing to the neighbors.

Lily and I went for walks around the neighborhood, hikes in the hills behind our house, and found friends to play with here and there.

She layed in the same sunspot Lola did, and enjoyed sniffing around her new yard. She began to learn some manners too. Sit, stay, and her special whistle to ‘come back’.

At a year and a half she wasn’t quite as well behaved as Lola was, but those were big paws to fill, so we tried not to compare too harshly.

One morning, Lily and I had gone for one of our morning walks. Having a small backyard, I usually tried to go to areas that were less developed so she could have plenty of fun smells, and room to stretch her speedy whippet legs.

This time we went into a riverbed. This was not one of our usual spots because I was always scared of the coyotes.

When I had been training for the half marathon, I had gone on many early morning runs, and had seen quite a few coyotes. A couple of times they were running right along the bike path ahead of me, or even alongside me!

I had heard them howling in there one morning, and when I passed the thicket of trees just off the path, I made sure to keep my wits about me and move quickly!

I had walked down here with Lily the week before and it was great.  No one was there, and we had a long stretch of open area. I decided to let her off the leash this time.

This particular morning I was looking forward to listening to a podcast and walking with my girl. We had gone about a mile and then turned around. She stayed within 10 yards of me at all times, stopping to let me catch up, or coming back if she was too far ahead.

We were about 200 yards from returning to the path when I heard a terrifying screaming sound.

I pulled my earbuds out just in time to see my little girl running by me with a coyote the size of a small german shepherd not 10 feet behind her. I screamed, flailing my arms to make myself seen. A guttural growl from the most instinctual part of me roared out. Noooo!!!  Lily slowed and turned to me.

The coyote intensified its pursuit and I yelled at her ‘Run Lily!’ There was no thought about the fact that she couldn’t understand my words. She must have understood my energy and took off running.

I dropped my things and tried to run after them but the sandy riverbed stole my footsteps and sent me falling to the ground.

Once. Twice.

I made it to the embankment that led to the path above. As I frantically tried to ascend the incline, the soil gave way with every other step. I scraped my knee. As the seconds painfully passed, I feared that my friend, my baby, this innocent being that entrusted me with her safety, was being ripped apart by a big, scary, coyote.

A face appeared at the top of the path. ‘Are you ok!’ she said. ‘Its not me, its my dog!’ I managed through heaving breaths. ‘I’ll run after them!’ she said without hesitation. A wave of relief washed over me as I knew that there was someone who might be able to get to Lily. I slowed my pace enough to grab steadier footholds and made it to the top of the path. ‘Shoo get out of here! Get out of here!’ she yelled out. As I ran up, I saw the large coyote meet up with a smaller one and run off in the other direction.

Lily was alive!

They didn’t have her so she must have gotten away! But I had a new problem. I didn’t know where she was or if she was hurt.

I whistled for her ‘Lily!’ I called out. ‘I’ll go this way’ the lady yelled to me and we split in opposite directions. I headed directly for our house which was in the development on the other side of the path, calling and whistling for her.

I got to our driveway and craned my head around, I didn’t see her so I turned to head back, when I heard the familiar jingling of her collar. She was there!

She had just been hiding. My sweet, smart girl was right here.

But I saw blood.

I opened up the house and put her inside. Then ran back to the lady. ‘I’ve got her, thank you!’ I yelled, then ran back home and took Lily straight to the veterinarians office.

They got her. No doubt about that. Two puncture wounds on one side, and one puncture wound on the other. She got drains put in, some pain meds and I got her home as fast as possible. She was pretty knocked out that evening but I just wanted to look at her hold her face close to mine every once in a while.

It wasn’t until the next day that it really hit me. I could be sitting right now dealing with the pain of losing my precious girl. I could be replaying how she was killed by coyotes in front of me. She could be gone from my life. What would I do? It would rock my world. And the responsibility I would feel would be the hardest to let go. She trusted me and I put her in harms way.

I’ll never know if they lured her back there, if she came upon them sleeping, or if she just caught them off guard. As fast as she is, she is also very delicate. I don’t think she could have tangled with a coyote and come out of it alive. What I know is that I was given a warning.

For what, I’m not sure… Not to be so cavalier with my own safety and the safety of those I love? To appreciate and acknowledge the beautiful souls in my life and how they enrich my existence, because they could be taken away at any time? Be more prepared for what life throws at you? Stop doing so many things at once, and be more present?

I’m sure I’ll be trying to figure that one out for some time.

It also didn’t occur to me until afterwards, the physical danger that woman had put herself into for a complete stranger.

Aside from the decision that I will never take my dog in that wash again, or that I for sure need to carry some sort of protection at all times, I also got a gift. A second chance. 

I’ve met some new friends and I’ve realized how many incredible people are living around me.

Let it be said that this was a horrible, terrifying, life shaking event. But I believe that there is something to be learned from every experience, and this one has been filled with learning opportunities.

I’ve grieved with others over their stories of loss, and found fellow champions of animals. I’ve been reminded of how precious those I love are, and how feeling helpless isn’t something I want to feel again.

But out of this horrible situation, I have found a connection to the people of my community that I haven’t felt before. I recognized a common thread. Compassion.

It ignited my hope. It was something that I just didn’t see coming.

It was most certainly an unexpected gift.