September 22

I was driving home late this morning when I noticed a French bulldog walking in circles on the sidewalk. Since I'm not accustomed to seeing unaccompanied Frenchies in public (and also because I adore the breed), I took a quick visual scan of the area and didn't see any people nearby. So I flipped a u-turn, parked next to said-dog, and got out. It took less than two seconds for the dog to bound in my direction, and I reached for her collar in search of contact information. She was, however, a very active Frenchie, so although she eagerly accepted pets, I was unable to hold her still long enough to get a gander at the two phone numbers that I could see etched on her tag.

And then she took of running down a nearby street. After I stopped giggling at my first-ever experience with seeing a Frenchie run, I ran after her, determined to help reunite her with her family (and to keep her from being stolen, since I know they fetch top dollar on the doggie black market). But once again, when I was finally able to catch her, I still couldn't see her tag.

Just when I was mulling my next move, Brady's friend Jackson's mom Shannon came around the corner walking their dog. She saw me wrestling with the pup (who was simultaneously trying to lick my face and run off), cut her phone call short, and together, we were able to contact the owner and get Effie back home safely.

I'm convinced that God put Shannon right there at that moment so we could join forces to help this pup get back to the people who love her. So for the perfectly timed help and for sweet doggies, I am thankful.