Jack Canfield - Chicken Soup for the Dog Lovers Soul: Stories of Canine Companionship, Comedy and Courage

It was just a routine trip to the drugstore but it changed my life.

As I got out of my car, I noticed a scared, starving, mangy dog with rusty red fur in the store parking lot. He looked as though he was waiting for someone. I learned from a store clerk that a man in a pickup truck had dumped the dog in the parking lot and had driven away. Obviously this dog was waiting for the mans return. By the look in the dogs sad eyes, I knew he needed help.

For the next several days I returned to the drugstore parking lot and tried coaxing the dog with food. Like clockwork, the dog would appear from the woods but wouldnt approach the food until I drove away. I realized that if I were going to help this dog, I needed to use a humane trap. But the next day when I pulled into the lot with the humane trap in the car, the dog was gone. I searched the woods and the surrounding area, but the dog was nowhere to be found.

I decided to hang Lost Dog posters in the area. The only information I could put on the poster was a description of the red dog and my phone number. I didnt even know the dogs gender. I dont make a habit of rescuing dogs, and I already had two dogs of my ownwhy was I looking for a dog I knew nothing about? I couldnt explain it, but I was determined to find this dog.

Within a day I received a phone call from a clerk at a convenience store located about a mile from where I had first seen the dog. He said a red dog fitting the description on the poster had appeared at the convenience store and had been running up to pickup trucks in the parking lot. He explained that animal control had picked up the dog and had taken him to the county shelter. Although it was almost an hour away, I drove to the shelter to see if it was the same dog. There he was, crouched in the back corner of his cage growling, barking and very agitated. The shelter must hold dogs for ten days to allow owners time to claim them, so I would have to wait and see what happened with this dog.

Even though I had no plans of adding a third dog to our family, I felt compelled to help this dog. So over the next ten days I checked on him regularly. The people at the shelter told me the dog was very aggressive. They said no one would adopt him, and he would be destroyed when his time was up. On the tenth day I made the long drive back to the shelter to see the red dog. The receptionist asked if my name was Deborah Wood. I didnt pay much attention to her question; just simply replied no as I followed her back to the dogs cage. There was the red dog, just as scared and agitated as before.

Intimidated by the dogs behavior, but still determined to save him, I asked the kennel assistant to bring the dog out to my car and put him into the crate that I had brought for him. I had no idea if I would be able to handle the dog once we reached home, but I knew he couldnt stay at the shelter. As I followed the assistant and dog through the lobby area to my car, the receptionist stopped me. She said there was a Deborah Wood on the phone. She was inquiring about the red dog and wanted to speak to me.

I picked up the phone. The woman named Deborah told me that she had been at the convenience store talking to the clerk about the dog when animal control had picked him up. For some reason, she had been drawn to the red dog, too. Over the past ten days, Deborah had made several visits. She had tried coaxing the dog out of his cage for a walk, but the fearful dog had snapped at her. Despite the dogs behavior, Deborah never gave up on him, and now she wanted to know what I was going to do with the dog. I explained to her that I was taking the dog to the veterinarian for a checkup and that I would call her once I got home. It turned out that Deborah and I lived within five minutes of each other. Both of us had traveled almost an hour to visit the unadoptable red dog at the shelter both of us not completely sure why. I was struck by the lucky timing of her call. If Deborah had called the shelter a moment later, we might never have made a connection.

I was nervous about the dog being in my car and anxious to get him to the vet. Surely I would be able to figure out what to do with him after that. I must be crazy, I thought, as I backed my car out of the shelters parking lot. Why am I doing this? I have an aggressive dog crated in mycar, and I have no idea what Im going to do with him.

Just as I thought this, the red dog looked at me with his expressive eyes and stuck his paw through the crate for a handshake. I reached over and tentatively closed my hand around the outstretched paw. It seemed to me that the red dog was thanking me. This melted my heart. I held his paw in my hand for the entire forty-five-minute ride to the vets office. When we arrived, we were both smiling!

The red dog spent about two weeks at the vets recovering from mange, worms and other health problems. While the red dog was being treated at the vets office, Deborah came often to visit him, and although she had never had a dog before, when the dog was well enough to leave the animal clinic, she offered to foster him until we could find him a permanent home. It didnt surprise anyone that Deborah quickly fell in love with her foster dog and decided to adopt him, naming him Redd. The moment Redd realized that he was safe, he became the perfect dog: affectionate and sociableloving everyone he met. He never again showed any sign of aggression.

It has been five years since Deborah adopted Redd. Initially drawn together by our concern for Redd, Deborah and I have become close friends. And Redd has two families that adore him. He also frequently visits his uncle, the clerk at the convenience store who responded to my poster.

Today, Redd is surrounded by people who love him. When I see this contented dog, lying on the sofa and getting belly rubs, I find it hard to believe that he is the same dog with the haunted eyes I saw in the parking lot five years ago. That routine trip to the drugstore brought a very special dog and a dear friend into my life.

Wendy Kaminsky

I was planting flowers in my garden one day, when I spotted a battered old boxer with a broken chain around his neck, staggering up the road. He had the look of a dog who had been abused. Without any hesitation, he proceeded to walk down my driveway and lie down next to me. Exhausted, he just lay there, his eyes following me as I ran inside to get him a dish of water. Returning with the water, I looked into his dark, soulful eyes. A ripple of shock ran through my body: I knew this dog!

About eight years earlier Id been in the center of town one morning, when a beautiful, fawn-colored boxer puppy ran up to me. Bending down to pet him, I noticed his beautiful eyesand the ID tag around his collar. The tag said he belonged to Mrs. Reynolds and gave a local telephone number. She lived not too far away and came to pick him up in a matter of minutes. After a few wet kisses, the boxer went home. That was the last time I had seen the dog.

My husband came out of the house. I told him I was sure this dog was the one Id found in town years ago. He thought I was crazy. How can you be certain? He doesnt have a collar on and theres no way to identify him. It has to be another dog. This one is so abused; it couldnt belong to that nice family. Besides, do you even remember the name of the family?

Somehow, I did. It was Reynolds, I said. I know it sounds crazy, but Im sure this is their dog!

Running inside, I grabbed the telephone book and called the first Reynolds listed. Mr. Reynolds answered and told me he didnt have a boxer. However, just as he was about to hang up, he said that his brother once had a boxer, and gave me his brothers number.

When I called the first Mr. Reynoldss brother, he said it couldnt be his dog because his dog had been stolen six years before. I convinced him to let me bring the dog over so he could look at him. I put the dog into my car. He collapsed in the backseat and lay very still. Crossing over the main highway going into the town, he started to move around. As we passed through the center of town, he started jumping and bouncing around in the backseat.