The "Editor's Drawer" column published in the December 1856 Harper's Magazine said, "It's been said that a 'special Providence watches over children, drunkards and the United States.'"
This morning, I'll add very old dogs with cataracts and crippling arthritis to the list.
There's not much short of Providence that explains for me what happened to my son Brandon's 15-year-old pound pooch Brawney during a visit to Harrison the other day.
Brandon saved Brawney from the shelter as a rambunctious and unusually intelligent puppy. With spindly legs, a dark short-haired coat with brown facial highlights, Brawney at about 18 inches tall kinda resembled a miniature Doberman.
Over the years, they have become as tight as canine and human companions can be. Their bond is cemented tighter than, I'd say, a hefty tab of Gorilla Glue.
Sharing our downstairs den and bedroom the other day, Brandon let Brawney outside after dark to take care of business before turning in for the evening. Normally, she doesn't wander far and is ready to get back inside within a few minutes.
That's understandable. After all, Brawney, while still alert with quality of life, is a very old lady in human terms. About 10 minutes after letting her onto the lighted patio, Brandon opened the door to find she wasn't anxiously waiting to head for bed.
That was an odd development. After all, she'd never run away before. Naturally, his heart sank and panic surged. "Where could she possibly be?" He began calling and looking around the yard and adjacent street, all to no avail.
Realizing Brawney couldn't possibly have traveled that far in her condition, we continued the search throughout the next day. Block after surrounding block we walked, drove, called out and whistled without result. Neighbors hadn't spotted her limping through their yard or along a street. It was as if the night had swallowed her.
We'd posted her picture with a request for help on Facebook. Daughter Anna, from Arlington, Tenn., even placed a notice on the local Nextdoor website. Harrison has a local information Facebook site called "A Little Birdie Told Me" where Brawney also ended up on its digital "wanted poster" of sorts.
The question remained. Where could she have gone in an undulating community where trekking up and down the numerous steep hills on good legs can be a challenge?
Then, on the morning of Day Two, a photo of Brawney sitting on the concrete floor of an expansive room appeared on the Little Birdie website, along with a message from Omi Wesley that read: "Is anyone missing this little old lady? She seems to have hip problems and was found trying to cross the bypass near Cash Savers."
It turns out Wesley had been watching, the morning after Brawney disappeared, through the window of the business where she works, more than a mile from our home and past downtown Harrison, when she saw a small dog who was obviously lost and frightened trying to cross the city's bustling four-lane bypass.
Omi left her office and headed out, hoping to save the stray animal that anyone familiar with that hectic location not far from Crooked Creek knows was a death trap for any dog, especially one with bad hips.
Brawney had been reluctant and initially shied away from the young woman. Not to be denied, Omi persisted and finally took Brawney to her workplace.
There, Omi took the photograph and posted it online. But it wasn't until later the evening of Day Two that everyone realized Brawney had been found early that morning about 7:45, which meant by then she had been separated from Brandon for two nights.
Having to be at work on Monday, Brandon had left Harrison for Fayetteville feeling despondent after having searched all day Sunday. Later he sent an appeal to "please find her" because she meant everything to him. Prayer answered.
The providential part of this little story is twofold, considering the large number of stray dogs that regularly turn up in Harrison and across Boone County. Some do wind up with their pictures posted online. Most do not. So just the odds of Brawney being found by a stranger who cared enough to place her photo online, realizing someone likely was missing her, was beyond unusual.
But what sealed this GodNod deal for me was that Omi was working at (of all places) the American Canine Training Center when she spied Brawney wobbling alongside the bypass.
How many among us would have dropped everything to chase down a dog they'd only seen in passing, then care for her, and take and post a picture hoping to locate her owner?
We expressed deep thanks to Omi and gathered up Brawney, who was overjoyed to see familiar faces. In that moment, she seemed almost like a puppy again. Then we drove to reunite her with a thankful son in a happy ending that a day earlier seemed anything but.
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Mike Masterson is a longtime Arkansas journalist, was editor of three Arkansas dailies and headed the master's journalism program at Ohio State University. Email him at [email protected].
Editorial on 09/01/2019