I don’t know how many of you have had the pleasure of having a stray dog as a pet, but I highly recommend it. Growing up we’ve had many stray dogs. They’re the loyalist of any canine breed and always the happiest to see you. You are their savior and they rarely forget it. It has been exactly a year since the latest addition to our menagerie wandered into our lives.
It was my sister who started the tradition of naming the strays in accordance with how they were found. This pup was named Fleabelle, and as you’ve probably guessed was covered in fleas, so Fleabody was changed to Fleabelle. We once had a Louie because he was lost and they both started with the letter ‘L’.
This sweet pup was a needed distraction on a very rough day. She and another stray had wandered into my riding arena. I managed to get both of them into the back yard, and after a quick snack the other stray jumped the fence and was never to be seen again. Fleabelle stuck around (she has very short legs, but I’d like to think she just liked us).
When I tell people the story of Fleabelle they often comment on how great I was to rescue this stray, to take care of her, how lucky she is, but I think in the case of Fleabelle I was the lucky one. I didn’t find her, she found me. She found me when I was in a time of need and has put a smile on my face every day since. Perhaps I wasn’t her savior after all, perhaps she was mine.
People see strays as the unfortunates, the ones that get lost or the ones that were dumped, but every once in a while we are the ones who are lost. The ones who were dumped. Some days we are the strays. So the next time a stray wanders into your life remember how Fleabelle found me, and the smile she puts on my face. Remember that some days you might be the stray wandering into someone else’s riding arena to save someone else’s day.