Wednesday was a nasty day. Navasota was gray, wet, windy, and cold. The streets and sidewalks were muddy, and no one was out, unless running from a vehicle to a store. Even the birds huddled hidden away under building eaves.
I wouldn't have ventured out of my warm house if I hadn't had a doctor's appointment, but I did. Ronnie, sweetheart that he is, drove me. I left him waiting in the reception room while I had my check-up, but he was outside in the bitter, biting cold when I came out. What the...?
As soon as I opened the door, I had my answer. He was sitting on a bench with a tiny, trembling Chihuahua cuddled against his chest inside his jacket.
"We're not keeping it," I said. I didn't know where the dog came from or what Ronnie was doing with it. All I could think about were the three rambunctious dogs in our backyard and the fourth with my son. Five dogs? I don't think so. Someone had to draw a line in the dirt.
He beat me to it.
"I'm not leaving her," he replied. "She's lost and she's freezing." He stood, resolute, holding the little dog close to his body.
A flurry of conversation followed, with the doctor and her staff joining in. The dog had been seen running with another dog and then all alone, up and down the sidewalk for the past half hour. Ronnie had seen it following a kid on a bike, but the boy said the dog didn't belong to him and he didn't want it. The doctor said the dog had to belong to someone and Ronnie agreed but insisted he wasn't leaving the dog in the cold. Instead, he continued to warm her with his body heat and calm her with his touch.
We brought her home, but with a plan. Tomorrow Ronnie will call the dog pound to see if anyone is looking for a 4-pound female Chihuahua, and he will put an ad in the "FOUND" section of the Navasota newspaper.
In the meanwhile, she's safe with a man who has a heart as big as Texas for God's creatures. Her tail dances like a conductor's baton setting the cadence for the March of the Bumblebee. Her big brown chocolate eyes rival Antonio Banderas' Puss 'n Boots character in all the Shrek movies. No longer trembling cold, but flying up the stairs and snuggling under the blanket he's put for her in his office, she's full of spirit.