"THE DAY I MET AMELIA" ~ By Rachel Davidson

It had been 7 weeks since we had said goodbye to our 13-year-old black lab, and only 5 weeks since our beloved cat had stopped returning from her daily adventures.

My son and I sat at the dinner table in the newly created emptiness of a pet-less home and discussed timing. We were still in mourning, still adjusting to this new normal, and decided that it was best if we give ourselves some time to properly grieve the furry family members that we had suddenly lost. It was July, and so we settled on Christmas as a time to revisit the conversation of brining a new furry family member into our home. That felt good; it felt right to take time. While the space in our home was vacant, the space in our hearts was still rented by loss, and the task of finding another pet that we could possibly love as much as our now late pets seemed impossible.

I went to work three days later and found myself moving through a typical day-which in my work is typical only in it’s uniqueness. As neighbors who live in tents and make shift cardboard shanties began to file into our meeting space I did what I have done for the last 5 years: I greeted every person and every pet. Word has always spread fast about my love for animals, and most folks who know me well bring their furry companion to greet me and receive whatever I might have on hand that day in the way of kibble, treats, or affection. In this line of work several things become abundantly clear in a hurry: 1) humans are resilient 2) wisdom can be found in the gaps between what we know in our bones, and what we think we know in our brains 3) connection to another soul can save a life, and usually two or three lives.

On this particular Thursday the sun was relentless. The heat of what already felt like a long summer was oppressive and exhausting. A woman that I had met just a few weeks earlier in a river bank encampment walked into the room with a weight heavier than the heat and hunger and turmoil than she was currently experiencing. She carried with her a smallish dog that I had not seen before. She glanced up just long enough to catch my eye and I motioned for her to come bring the pup to me. The woman obliged, moving across the room slowly, and when she met me she plopped the dog into my arms and began to sob. I could now see that this was not just a small dog the woman had, it was a puppy that folded like a pile of un-starched laundry in my arms, all soft and warmth. As I tried to hand the puppy back, afraid that I had upset her by greedily reaching for the dog, she explained to me that she loved this dog. She herself was a mother, she told me, she had lost her son and was now desperate to put her life back together after three years of unimaginable suffering. Because she was a mother, and because she loved this puppy, she explained, she was desperate to ensure that it had a better life than what she could currently offer it. As we sat and talked, mother-to-mother, woman-to-woman, pet lover-to-pet lover, the puppy slept on my lap.

This 8(ish) week old creature was beginning to lose her hair, her eyes were red with dehydration, and she rattled when she breathed. She was perfect. I broke several deals that I had made with myself that day. I took the puppy home telling myself that it was temporary, but knowing this was as temporary as an ancient sequoia’s roots.

Amelia, named after the famous pilot for her courage, tenacity, and ability to land, rebounded quickly. I came to learn that her dog mama, a gorgeous blue pit bull, had met a tragic end when Amelia was only a couple of weeks old. Her one other puppy sibling had not made it, and she soon began to struggle. Her dog papa was suspected to be a somewhat infamous local Queensland Heeler, and she had inherited his freckled coat, desire to herd, and the most adorable eye patch you’ve ever seen.

The woman who had brought Amelia in and so compassionately surrendered her to my open arms was on the path to recovery and permanent housing. I take Amelia to visit her often. Her loving and generous heart changed my life that Thursday.

That day I couldn’t know what the year ahead would bring, but I can confidently say now, as Amelia sleeps on the couch beside me, that I am not sure what I would have done without this precious dog to hold me down. I have heard before that we don’t find our pets, our pets find us. When you least expect it, sometimes love walks right in the door. Sometimes in the shape of a freckled pit bull. She was the last thing we expected, to be honest, the last thing we wanted, and the best thing that has happened to us in quite some time.