Bubba, my 11-year-old dog, is as loving and as sensitive as can be. But I never thought of him as particularly smart, or at least not as smart as some of the other dogs I’ve had.
A mix of border collie and Australian shepherd, he had an absentminded streak. Sometimes he just wandered off, oblivious to dangers like cars. So we kept him in our yard, afraid of what would happen if he strayed out into the street.
One day he turned up missing. I drove down every road and alley in the neighborhood, shouting his name. After two hours I gave up and went home. Maybe he’d come back. No, no sign of Bubba. Father, I prayed, lead Bubba back to me. Please.
My prayer worked. Not long after, I heard the jangle of his tags as he loped into the yard. I started to scold him, but stopped when I saw this strange look in his eyes. A look that seemed to say, I wish I could tell you where I’ve been.
Two days later I was in the front yard with Bubba when an elderly woman walked by. She did a double take when she saw Bubba, then stopped to talk to me.
“Is that your dog?” she asked me.
“Yep. This is Bubba,” I told her.
“He’s the one!” she practically shouted, her face lighting up.
“What do you mean?” I asked her curiously.
“Two days ago I came walking by here. I recently had surgery so I was taking a walk to try to improve my health. I only live a few blocks away, but didn’t have the energy to make it back. This dog could tell something was wrong. He ran right up to me. I put my hand on him. His fur was soft and so warm it was almost as if it were giving me strength. Every few steps I had to rest. Your wonderful dog never left my side, all the way home. Thank God for Bubba—that dog is an angel.”
Yes, I thought, yes, he is.
