67: Guess Who’s Come to Dinner

67: Guess Who’s Come to Dinner

From Chicken Soup for the Soul: The Dog Did What?

Guess Who’s Come to Dinner

Fortune brings in some boats that are not steered.

~William Shakespeare

We were enjoying a perfect fall afternoon, eating Sunday dinner with the nearby sliding glass door open. Suddenly my eight-year-old daughter, Amber, gazed down next to her chair to find a scruffy black and tan mutt sitting beside her. He acted like begging at the table was the most natural thing in the world . . . except we didn’t own a dog.

As the two of them locked gazes, I knew my wife and I would need to tread carefully with this unexpected visitor. After all, with both of us avid dog lovers, Amber had received a double dose of the dog-loving gene.

Before I could say anything, Amber tossed a tidbit from her plate that was caught so quickly in midair that I wasn’t sure the dog had actually moved.

“Guess who’s come to dinner?” my wife asked as Amber slid off her chair, offered her hand to be sniffed before rubbing the dog’s head.

“What a lucky dog you are,” Amber said. “You found your way to us. Can we keep her?”

“I’m sure the dog must already have an owner,” I replied. “He or she seems to be well fed. I’m sure some loving family must be looking for her.” Besides, she must have learned how to beg from somewhere, I thought.

“Isn’t that a collar around her neck?” I asked, trying unsuccessfully to hide my relief. I reached down to inspect more closely. Sure enough, there was also a small medallion attached to the worn collar with “Daisy” inscribed on one side and a phone number on the other.

“See, Daisy just came for a visit. We’ll call her owners after dinner and let them know we have her.” Which we did. Over the next several days we called and called without ever getting an answer. We learned later from our neighbors that she’d been wandering around the neighborhood for several days before she’d stumbled onto our deck and into our home and hearts.

We checked with the pound to let them know we had Daisy in case her owners notified them. Still nothing. Meanwhile Amber kept working on us to keep her. Finally into the second week I knew it was time to raise the white flag when I heard Amber call the dog to her room. “Here Lucky, time for bed.”

“Lucky?” I asked my wife.

“Yea, she told me Daisy didn’t fit but that Lucky was her real name.”

Considering the circumstances I had to agree.

~W. Bradford Swift

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