We live in a neighborhood, on a crescent, where people still care about most of the others living here. It used to be really organized when we first moved here, but twelve years later, many people have moved on and its hard to know all of the neighbors like we used to.Driving in this afternoon, there was a little white dog (much like the one in the photo) on the road and not very far away was a young lady of about ten. She had a squeaky toy in her hand and when she saw us, she flagged us down:
"My dog got away . . . I live at number 409 - red brick and I need some help. He's part of family and I can't get him back. . . "
Long story short, we drove around to number 409 and I got out of the passenger seat, walked up the path and knocked and rang the bell at the same time.
I was a little nervous, I might add.
A very nice lady called out right away and then came to the door. She said her husband was on his way home and she has asthma (it's over 100 degrees here today) and . . .
I got her to get into the car with us and we turned around and went back to where an older child was standing with her daughter who had Oliver by the collar now. We got the dog and his young mistress into the back seat and drove them back to 409.
Everyone was very grateful and the mother's main comment was:
"God sure was watching and sent you folks along at the right time!"
Don't you just love stories like that . . . especially if they are true?
1 comment:
That was a precious story. And they gave God the credit. I like that.
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