LOTTIE

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 Four years ago today, I went to discard some trash. And found one of our greatest, most enduring treasures.

As I pulled up to the local dumpsters that afternoon, there, laying among the waste as a light snow fell, were two abandoned dogs, one very much no longer with us.

Nearby lay his or her friend, soaked, shivering, and very scared. But—unlike the despicable human(s) who undoubtedly discarded them both—that dog stayed there, loyal to the end.

As I approached—heartbroken and hopeful at once—that surviving dog came to me, cautious, cowering, but still somehow exuding an undeniable sweetness and trust.

How or why—I do not know—she allowed me to scoop her up and bring her home to be with us. With a little food and water and warm place to rest, she started to open up almost at once.

What has unfolded since is the most beautiful soul. Despite it all.

I decided to call her Charlotte, or Lottie for short. It just seemed fitting for such a kind and gentle southern girl.

Every day since Lottie found us, she has proved—yet again—that dogs are far better than too many people. More loving. Far more forgiving. And oh, so joyful. Though she’s quite aged now, every day Lottie bounds and romps, plays with her friends, comes to me often for a soft kiss.

I can honestly say nothing makes me happier.

Maybe Lottie remembers that one awful day, someone who was supposed to care for her so profoundly failed her. And her friend. But I hope not. Because every day she reminds me of the power of unconditional love.