I need to give credit to Petwarmers.com for this great story! I hope anyone who reads it (if anyone does) loves it, I did.
THE STORM'S GIFT
by James Colasanti, Jr.
The dog and I are on the front porch at dusk.
I am sitting in the rickety old white rocking chair staring at
the first stars of the night. Darkening clouds flock to cover the
evening sky with thunder echoing in the distance. And yet, it is
still a good night.
He is at my side, where he always is, carefully keeping his tail
out of harm's reach. The storm clouds gather fringing the horizon
with curtains of rain but they are nothing compared to what this dog
He is from New Orleans -- a long-haired Dachshund and a Katrina
It was there that after 12 years he was abandoned by his forever
family. They left the home in a hurry and he watched from the window
as the car pulled away never knowing when he would see them again.
When the levees broke, the house began to flood with the murky
waters. He climbed up on a porch chair and then on top of the porch
railing. He could not move -- sitting perched above the swirling
Days without food or water went by. People would pass in boats
-- staring -- but no one stopped for him.
Then one day a young fireman snatched him from the railing and
threw him into a small motorboat.
He was taken to a shelter, cleaned up, fed, and watered. It
seemed like there were hundreds of other dogs and cats at this
Weeks went by.
One morning at a breakfast meeting, I told the director of the
Animal Rescue & Foster Program, "I know I don't need any more dogs,
however, if there is an older dog -- one that no one else wants --
bring him or her back for me."
The rescue group was making a trip to New Orleans to rescue some
animals and to find new homes for them. It was after midnight a week
later when the van pulled into Greensboro. In the back of the van in
a small kennel was a little black dog.
A rescue worker grabbed him out of his cage and thrust him into
my arms saying, "Here's your little dog!"
After stroking the length of his fur, I knew that he and I would
be friends forever.
I named him Noah, saying, "Anyone who could survive a storm like
Katrina needed a name of biblical proportions!"
When Noah was neutered I received some disturbing news. The
tears welled in my eyes when the vet said, "Noah is heartworm
positive -- high heartworm positive." Like so many of the Katrina
animals, heartworms are a problem in the Deep South.
The veterinarians performed "half-treatment" saying, "We don't
believe that Noah's heart is strong enough to survive a full dose."
They were right, but someday, hopefully, we will give the treatment
Noah is now my forever dog. He sleeps by my side on the left
side of the bed -- that's his spot. If there are any noises during
the night, his ears are the first thing up. Although his whiskers
have grayed, his hearing is still sharp.
Oftentimes, I call him Old Man, because that is what he will
always be to me. I took him in when no one else did and that makes
it a lifetime commitment.
Noah is my gift from the storm.
-- James Colasanti, Jr. <onegooddog1 @ bellsouth.net>
James is a lead clerk for Barnes & Noble Booksellers. He shares his
home with his housemates -- 17 dogs, and a cat named Pumpkin