When you adopt a pet, there's always a little something in the back of your mind, wondering if the pet is really happy to be with you.
You wonder whether or not the animal would be happier running free in the wild. And then, at least in my case, you'd start to wonder if your presence and care is enough to fulfill the desires of her canine heart.
So far, living with Macy has been incredible. I've loved every second of the journey thus far to get to know and care for her.
But I just didn't think I could get confirmation about how she felt about me.
I see her suffering with depression at the loss of her last pup (who was taken away from her 4 weeks prematurely), so how could I expect her troubled, motherly heart to have time to consider me? I should be content with the mild tail wags and complacent personality she offers. That is what I wanted, and that is what she can offer me.
But then, last night, as we were on our evening walk, Macy stopped suddenly -- and exceeded what I thought possible.
She didn't sniff the ground, as curious dogs do at a moment like this; instead, she looked ahead, her dear face, calm and patiently waiting, the something for which I could not be sure.
I just watched her.
Then, gradually, the snow that was the background to her image finally came into my focus.
There, carved into the snow, was the word "love," in all of its simplicity and majesty.
Macy had wanted me to see it, I believe, and when I finally did, she gently tugged at the leash for us to continue on.
I thank God for the gift that Macy is to my life. I love her to pieces!