An Eye-Opening Experience

Every so often, someone comes along and removes the plank from our eyes and we just can't get over the view!

Childbirth was like that for me. Sure, I was pretty much one of the lead actors in that event, but I'll be honest with you...I didn't really know what I was doing. And it's not like anyone consulted me anyway, aside from occasionally asking me to grunt or squeeze or quit massaging the morphine drip.

Otherwise, I was pretty much a vessel that night. A vehicle, if you will, for the real star--Eric Carlson Holt (or Allison Shepard Holt, if you happened to have caught the sequel).

This past week, I had a similar experience, although I must say that I have managed to retain my girlish figure and can even lift things that weigh over 10 pounds, despite it!

On Tuesday night, this scraggly guy, Dawson, caught my eye while I was trolling the human-meets-canine site called Petfinder. He lived a little too far for a long-distance relationship--Kansas City--but I couldn't shake his good looks.

So I called his number. Got an answering machine but, an hour or so later, his handler, a woman named Debbie, called me back. She said she'd just figured out how to upload his photo and--Voila!--the calls started pouring in. Fortunately, mine was the first, so I had first crack at Dawson.

She even pointed out that he'd been living in Holt, Missouri, which, frankly, this otherwise postmodern girl took as a sign.

So I made arrangements to come to Missouri on Saturday, to meet the dapper guy at a local McDonalds outside of Kansas City.

Suffice it to say that I never made the trip, even though I am looking at Dawson (now referred to as "Finn") while I type this.

Enter the plank-removing part of my story. The part where three rescue groups, including a bunch of people who had never met and who had no reason to assume I was anything but a dog-trolling schmuck (but kindly thought otherwise) made sure Dawson (now Finn) found his way to me.

For this to happen, one kind person--Alma Knoll, with Midwest Wheaten Rescue--first mentioned she had a friend heading to KC the next day to help out some rescued Boston Terriers. Enter Jennifer, who rescues those Terriers, and a man whose name I never did learn, who drives dogs wherever they need to be driven, just to give them a second chance.

Oh, then there's Debbie, Dawson's kind caretaker, who must have taken some personal time at lunch just to round up the paperwork and make a drive to a local convenience store north of the Missouri River, where she handed over Dawson, so that he might make his way home. To me. And my family. Sight unseen.

If you haven't figured it out yet, these folks have passion and commitment. And they do amazing work. And, until this week, I had almost no idea such an underground railroad existed for animals.

For awhile that day--and even now--my head got all swirly as I tried to understand this most rootsy of grass-roots organizations each working together--willingly--on the off chance that they can improve a dog's life.
...oh, and a family's life, as well.

Yeah, much like my birthing ordeals, this week's strange venture has paid off in spades for the Holt family. Already, we love Dawson Finn like one of our own, and he's found his place in our lives...

...right there, in our hearts. Where he belongs.