I was about to leave the animal shelter after walking several dogs when I saw a small Dachshund in one of the indoor pens of concrete and plexiglass. The little dog, named Bella, looked eager for some attention.
A staff member walking by told me Bella was blind and deaf, but despite that, loved interacting with people. Although I didn’t know her backstory, her underbelly made me think she had been used as a breeder in a puppy mill and had endured a hard life. Yet, here she was, being a good sport about her lot in life.
Because I have a soft spot for blind dogs and because she seemed so eager for attention, I decided to spend some time with her rather than calling it a day.
I picked her up and brought her outside to a grassy pen surrounded by a chain link fence. I alternated between holding her and letting her toddle around on the grass in the warm sun. At times, I played Blind Dog Wrangler, heading her off when she was about to bump into the chain link fence.
Little Bella seemed delighted to feel the warm sun and proceeded to roll around on her back, wriggling with joy.
I felt a bittersweet mixture of joy and sadness. The joyful part was obvious. Seeing this little being having fun despite the less than wonderful situation she found herself in was so beautiful.
The sadness was a combination of thinking about Bella’s circumstances and remembering my little blind Min Pin mix rescue dog who never let her blindness slow her down or dim her light, and how much joy she had brought into my life.
After a while, I brought Bella back inside to her pen and left the shelter.
I noticed the next day that she wasn’t listed on the shelter’s website. I was surprised but thrilled to see that. I was surprised because I had seen her right near the end of the day on that previous day and wondered how she could have been adopted in those last few minutes, or the first few hours of the following day.
When I went to the shelter a couple of days later, I asked one of the staff if Bella had gotten adopted.
The woman looked at me with sadness and in a somber tone, shared that Bella had a multitude of serious medical problems that had worsened and that she had been euthanized.
I was stunned by that news. It wasn’t close to what I had expected to hear.
Two thoughts flashed through my mind.
First, little Bella was in a happier place. I was glad for her about that.
Second, I felt so thankful that I had not rushed home, but instead decided to bring her outside to play. The image of her wriggling around on her back with delight brought forth a tender, bittersweet amalgamation of sadness, wistful happiness, and gratitude.
Little did I know in the minutes I witnessed her rolling around on her back that this would be among her last moments on earth and perhaps her last moment outdoors in the fresh air and sunlight.
Since then, I’ve reflected multiple times on this experience, and how it is such a beautiful reminder that tomorrow is promised to no one, and how we never know when our interaction with someone will be our last. Knowing this, what emotions, experience, and memory do we want to leave them — and ourselves — with?
Because of this, it reminded me of the importance of not letting our busyness or preoccupation with our self-referential dramas to cause us to be careless in our treatment of others, allowing ourselves to speak sharply or unkindly or take out a bad mood on the other person.
It reminded me of how important it is to be truly present with those we love and thoughtful about our words and actions, and the emotional wake we leave, because we never know if this interaction will be our last.
It also reminded me of the gift available to all of us, regardless of our life circumstances…the gift we both give and receive simultaneously whenever we offer kindness, generosity, and goodwill to others.
I still feel a warm, poignant glow when I think about little Bella wriggling away and how blessed I feel to have experienced the giving and receiving of joy in that moment.
For another dog story: How Betty the Shelter Dog Taught Me About Hope
About the author: David Lee is a career coach, author, speaker, with a passion for storytelling that uplifts and teaches.
