I sat on the porch with my cof\u00adfee. I\u2019d snuck outside, inching the sliding glass door open so as not to wake anyone. My husband, Anthony; daughters, Grace, 13, and Genevieve, 11; and son, Joseph, 6, were still asleep in the cabin we\u2019d rented in the mountains near Asheville, North Carolina. The day before, we had driven 10 hours to get here, with Luna, our 75-pound Lab-bulldog mix, sitting on my lap, and Jo\u00adseph telling endless knock-knock jokes.<\/p>\n
Today was my fortieth birthday. And I needed to be alone.<\/p>\n
Three years earlier, my mom had died right before my birthday, after an eight-month battle with malignant melanoma. I missed her with an ache that went through my bones, through every part of me. I didn\u2019t want to cel\u00adebrate. Was this going to be how I felt on every birthday?<\/p>\n
A banging on the sliding door star\u00adtled me. Joseph was awake. I went in\u00adside. The girls were up as well. \u201cHappy birthday, Mom!\u201d they said, slurping their chocolate vacation cereal.<\/p>\n
On our way to Cedar Creek Stables to go horseback riding, we saw signs for a lost dog. \u201cThat\u2019s so sad!\u201d the kids said. \u201cWhat if Luna got lost?\u201d<\/p>\n
Anthony dropped off the girls and me and went to explore the nearby town of Lake Lure with Jo\u00adseph. Several hours later, Anthony met us at the stables. He had a strange look on his face. \u201cWe got you a birthday pres\u00adent,\u201d he said. \u201cIt\u2019s in the car.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhere\u2019s Joseph?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cHe\u2019s in the car, with the present.\u201d<\/p>\n
We walked around the corner to where the car was parked. I saw Jo\u00adseph\u2019s beaming face first. I peered in the window. There was a medium-size brown dog sitting beside him. When the dog saw me, it wiggled excitedly.<\/p>\n
\u201cCan we keep him, Mom? Please, can we?\u201d Joseph asked. The dog began to lick his face.<\/p>\n
\u201cWe were heading into town when we saw this dog running along the side of the road,\u201d Anthony said. \u201cI pulled over to check on him, and as soon as I opened the door he jumped in.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cIs this the lost dog?\u201d the girls asked. I thought of the pictures on the signs we had seen earlier. Nope. This was not that dog.<\/p>\n
Metal glinted on his collar. \u201cLook!\u201d I said. \u201cHe has tags.\u201d<\/p>\n
Anthony shook his head. \u201cIt\u2019s just the name of a shelter. I checked.\u201d<\/p>\n
I searched for the shelter name on my phone. It was an hour away! All we had for food in the car was a bag of pistachios. The dog looked at me, ears perked, tail wagging, as I opened the bag. I offered him a pistachio, then another. He nudged my hand for more. \u201cLet\u2019s name him Pistachio!\u201d Joseph cried. The girls agreed.<\/p>\n
\u201cCalm down, everyone,\u201d I said. \u201cI didn\u2019t say we could keep him.\u201d<\/p>\n
On the way back to the cabin, I called the shelter and left a message with my name and number and the ID number on the dog\u2019s tag. I turned to pet Pista\u00adchio. The kids were smiling ear to ear.<\/p>\n
\u201cHe ran all that way to get here,\u201d I said, not wanting to get their hopes up. \u201cI wouldn\u2019t be surprised if he runs away from us too.\u201d<\/p>\n
Sure enough, Pistachio raced into the woods. He came back, though, and played with Luna. They dashed around the yard until Pistachio had enough and retreated under the cabin\u2019s deck.<\/p>\n
That night, Pistachio slept in Luna\u2019s crate. When I went to get him in the morning, he leaped and spun in joy. I texted a picture to my sister back in New Jersey. \u201cDog jumped in the car on my birthday. Shelter tags. Kids in love.\u201d<\/p>\n
She texted back, \u201cIs this Mom\u2019s idea of a birthday gift?!\u201d<\/p>\n
We drove to Chimney Rock State Park for a hike. We left Luna in her crate and, over the protests of the kids, Pistachio outside.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat if he runs away?\u201d they cried.<\/p>\n
\u201cThen it wasn\u2019t meant to be,\u201d I said. \u201cHe\u2019s a runner, guys, and he won\u2019t be happy penned up inside all day.\u201d Was I trying to convince the kids or myself? Pistachio was a sweet dog, and I want\u00aded <\/em>to think of him as a birthday gift, a sign that Mom was with God.<\/p>\n On the hike, all the kids talked about was Pistachio. How had he escaped from the shelter? How had he run so far? Would he be there when we got back?<\/p>\n We went to an ice cream shop on the main road. While we were waiting in line, my phone buzzed. The shelter. I stepped outside to take the call.<\/p>\n \u201cHi\u2026is this Jenn?\u201d It was the adop\u00adtion coordinator, who said she had re\u00adceived my message and looked up the dog\u2019s file. \u201cHe was adopted by a couple last year. They\u2019re from a town outside Asheville. But the last paper in his file is a complaint from some neigh\u00adbors saying that he wasn\u2019t being taken care of. So if you would like\u2014I mean, we don\u2019t usually do this, but given the circumstances, he\u2019s yours.\u201d<\/p>\n I went back into the shop and told my family. The kids practically melted with relief. \u201cYay! Pistachio! Let\u2019s keep him!\u201d<\/p>\n We all sat down with our ice cream. Just as we were finishing, my phone buzzed again.<\/p>\n \u201cJenn? I called back because I just talked with the former owner, the man who adopted Pistachio. The dog\u2019s name is actually Hammer.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHammer?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYes. If you ask me, Pistachio is a much better name. Anyway, he did adopt him, so officially I have to tell you what he said. You can do with this information what you want. But\u2026he would like the dog back.\u201d She gave me the man\u2019s information, saying again, \u201cI just officially have <\/em>to tell you this.\u201d<\/p>\n I pictured an unkempt dog pen, ce\u00adment floors, Pistachio on a chain. Had he been adopted as a guard dog, given the name Hammer and then run away first chance he got?<\/p>\n I told the kids and Anthony. \u201cMom! We can\u2019t bring him back there!\u201d<\/p>\n I felt uneasy about taking a dog that had a rightful owner. But what kind of place would he be going back to? \u201cFirst let\u2019s see if he\u2019s even there when we get to the cabin,\u201d I told the kids.<\/p>\n We drove mostly in silence along the curvy mountain roads. Pulling into the long driveway, I scanned the woods for Pistachio. No sign of him.<\/p>\n Then we turned the bend and the cabin came into view. We all let out a little cry. There was Pistachio, sitting lookout on the front porch. When he saw us, he did three spins of joy and ran to the car. The kids leaped out. An\u00adthony and I shared a look.<\/p>\n I texted my sister, copying my niece, as the two of them volunteered at a dog rescue. \u201cWhat should I do?\u201d I asked.<\/p>\n My niece answered right away. \u201cDo not return him to that owner!\u201d<\/p>\n The next afternoon, we were driv\u00ading high in the mountains on the Blue Ridge Parkway when I got a message from an unknown number. \u201cHi, Jenn, this is the director of the shelter that Hammer is from. I\u2019m calling because this morning his owners drove down here, and they were very upset. I spent a lot of time with them. They want him back. Please call me.\u201d<\/p>\n I could no longer enjoy the beautiful views. I imagined angry owners yelling about their lost guard dog. I pictured a run-down home, where the dog was not loved.<\/p>\n Back at the cabin, I called the shel\u00adter director. I told her my concerns. She listened. \u201cI have been doing this for more than 20 years, and if I am wrong about these people, then I am in the wrong line of work,\u201d she said. \u201cThey really want their dog back.\u201d<\/p>\n I sat looking at Pistachio\u2019s own\u00ader\u2019s number for a long time before I finally dialed. A man answered. His voice was warm and deep. \u201cWe\u2019re so grateful you folks found him,\u201d he said. \u201cMy wife\u2019s been crying ever since he got lost on Monday. We were out of town at a funeral, and when we got home there was no sign of him. He\u2019s always come back before. He waits for us on the front porch.\u201d<\/p>\n We arranged to meet at their house. On the way there, the kids took turns holding Pistachio on their laps, telling him what a good boy he was and how much they would miss him.<\/p>\n I was nervous. I\u2019d gotten a good feeling from Pistachio\u2019s owner while we were on the phone, but what if we showed up and the place was horrible?<\/p>\n \u201cLooks like it\u2019s just up this road,\u201d Anthony said, turning at a wide-open field. I took a deep breath. Pistachio stood and tilted his head. The kids, even Joseph, went silent. A few min\u00adutes later, we took a left onto a paved country road. And then there was the house. Lovely flower gardens. A big, sloping yard that ended in a creek. Plenty of space to run. I couldn\u2019t imag\u00adine anywhere better for a dog, especial\u00adly this dog. Pistachio whimpered when he saw his owners waiting for him on the front porch.<\/p>\n \u201cI think this is his home, Mom,\u201d Jo\u00adseph said.<\/p>\n \u201cI think so too,\u201d I answered.<\/p>\n We opened the door and Pistachio leaped out and raced to his owners. They crouched down and let him lick their faces as he wiggled uncontrolla\u00adbly. They laughed and held him close.<\/p>\n We stood back and watched, know\u00ading this was right. The owners told us again and again how thankful they were. We got in the car, this time with\u00adout Pistachio, and started the drive back. I thought about how Pistachio had been a gift. Not a dog to keep, at least not for long, but a dog with a mes\u00adsage I needed to hear: It\u2019s time to let go. You will be okay.<\/em><\/p>\n The next morning, I sat on the deck as Luna explored behind our cabin. I could hear Anthony and the kids chat\u00adtering in the kitchen. \u201cGood-bye, Mom,\u201d I whispered, taking in the blue sky above. \u201cI love you. I miss you.\u201d Then I stood up to join my family, thinking about the home that Pistachio had returned to, the home that was more beautiful and loving than anything I could have ever imagined.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" I sat on the porch with my cof\u00adfee. I\u2019d snuck outside, inching the sliding glass door open so as not to wake anyone. My husband, Anthony; daughters, Grace, 13, and Genevieve, 11; and son, Joseph, 6, were still asleep in the cabin we\u2019d rented in the mountains near Asheville, North Carolina. The day before, we […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":28358,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_acf_changed":false,"ep_exclude_from_search":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[201],"tags":[74,166,75],"ppma_author":[1447],"class_list":["post-19370","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-dogs","tag-dogs","tag-grief","tag-pets"],"acf":[],"yoast_head":"\n