In the dream, I stood at the end of a long, straight gravel driveway. At the other end, I could see a white two-story farmhouse. There were no power lines leading to the house. No car in that long driveway. Details revealing that it was an Amish farmhouse, similar to the ones I often drove past near my home in northern Indiana. There was something inside that house that drew me there, but what it was, I didn’t know.
Fields spread out on either side of me, but I focused on the house. As I got closer, I saw a shimmer of gold out of the corner of my eye. I turned to look. The field was fenced and full—not with rows of crops but with puppies. Golden, fuzzy puppies. There were dozens of them, dotting the field like dandelions. One of them approached me. I felt a connection with her.
Then, abruptly, the dream ended. I woke up.
As I got ready for the day, the dream didn’t fade as my dreams usually do. It stayed with me. It felt important—and unfinished, since I never made it inside that farmhouse. Was it some kind of a sign? Something that had to do with our family pup, Charlie?
If I was going to dream about dogs, I would have expected one about Charlie crossing the rainbow bridge. Our beloved Charlie had passed away only a few weeks before. My wife, Kathy, and our kids had adored him. I’d had dogs my whole life, but Charlie was special. He may not have been the brightest dog in the world, but he was kind and gentle and loved to be around people, tail wagging.
Then, at almost 12 years old, Charlie’s tail didn’t wag so much. His health declined. An examination at the vet uncovered the problem. He had tumors throughout his body. Charlie had cancer, and there was nothing we could do. When he could no longer walk, I knew it was time. Our vet came to the house to put him down. Charlie passed away peacefully in our front yard, cradled in my arms.
Friends and family had already started asking when we were getting a new dog. I shrugged it off. We were still grieving. I didn’t know when I’d be ready to let another dog into my heart again, even one as delightful as the dandelion dogs in my dream.
A few months later, Kathy was reading the newspaper and stopped on a page, folding the paper in half.
“Look at this,” she said, pointing to an ad. “Goldendoodle Puppies for Sale,” it read, followed by a phone number. I’d never had one of these golden retriever and poodle mixes, but I’d heard they were intelligent and affable.
“I’ll think about it.”
Though I was hesitant, I kept the newspaper. A few days later, I called the number. A woman answered. “We have one puppy left,” she said. “You can stop by and meet her if you’d like.”
She gave me the address. It was only about 15 miles away. I was familiar with that area. As Kathy had pointed out, it wouldn’t hurt to have a look. I hopped into my car and headed north.
Half an hour later, as I turned down the long gravel driveway, I had a sense that I’d been there before. Then I caught sight of the white two-story house up ahead. And when I pulled up behind the house and parked, an Amish woman came out to greet me.
Okay, this is really strange, I thought. I didn’t know what to make of everything.
The woman led me to a back room of the house and went to get the puppy. When she returned, a golden ball of fluff came around the corner, following behind her. The puppy trotted right up to me. Even though I was a stranger, she showed no fear. She plopped down at my feet and licked my leg. Then she looked up at me with her gentle brown eyes.
She gave me a doggie smile just like the little dandelion pups in my dream had, and that’s when it all clicked. The puppy was what was waiting for me in that house. She was meant to be ours.
“I’ll take her!” I told the woman.
We named her Missy. For the past four years, our beloved Goldendoodle has been a wonderful addition to our family. The dog I was guided to even before I knew my heart was ready.
