Purdie Finds a Home

"I called about the Dalmatian," the lady said as she and her husband came through the door of the rescue. I was not at all prepared for what I saw. On the phone, the woman had spoken of her husband having once a Dalmatian and being very active, but the man I saw with her did not look well enough to be very active at all. I was immediately worried that our "Purdie," the beautiful female Dalmatian they were coming to see, might be too much for him.

I brought her out to greet them, and Purdie, who was always a little shy, to begin with, walked right over to the man who'd sat down on a chair waiting to meet her. She came and stood right under the chair like she belonged there. "Well, this is a good sign," I said to the lady, whose name was Janet. We decided to walk outside so that they could all get better acquainted. 

Once outside, the woman's husband, whose name was Jim, walked off with the Dalmatian down the parking lot towards the garage, petting her the whole time. Jim was a bit bent over, and his arm just touched the top of Purdie's head naturally as they walked.

"Is your husband ill?" I asked Janet, who gave me a knowing smile and began to answer me. "He was a POW in Vietnam. Four years and seven months," she said proudly as is she'd answered questions like mine dozens of times before. "He has PTSD and is all crippled up from Agent Orange, but he does just great." I looked up and saw him walking along with Purdie; her gait matched his as he held the leash, and they walked together. 

"He was captured two days after his twenty-first birthday in January of '69 and was released after the French treaties in 1973." She continued, "I cannot imagine the horrors he went through, but he does talk about it, which helps. Not all of the fellas that go to the Vet hospital do, but Jim does."

I looked up to watch Jim again and saw him in a whole different light, imagining him as a young soldier and what he once must have been, and done, and seen. I also thought about my own brother-in-law, Wayne, who I never met, who was killed in the same country where Jim did all that time as a captive. I thought about the pictures that hang on the walls of the place I now call home of Wayne as a young man and how Jim was also just no more than a kid when he was a captive in the same war. It made me see Jim and Purdie as really a boy and his dog and my eyes filled with tears. Janet must have read my thoughts and my face, because she said, "Jim and a dog - well - that's really the best thing for him."

I watched as Jim stopped to regain his balance just as Purdie walked between his legs and looked straight up at him - as if to steady him. This brought me to full tears - not just tears running down my face - but I stood there blubbering like a child - full sob - and I excused myself for a tissue. 

As I walked in the rescue, Jim walked back towards Janet, and by the time I'd blown my nose and gotten myself together, they were telling me that Purdie was definitely going home with them. I told them I'd lather her up and get her all pretty for her new life.

And as I stood with the warm water running on Purdie and tears still streaming down my face - I thought what an appropriate match this was going to be because we really didn't know all that much about Purdie; what she had been through and what she had put up with. She acted as though she may have lived through her own captivity and feelings of being lost several times in her life - just like Jim. And from the moment she'd met him, she seemed to sense a sameness of spirit - a kindred need. I whispered to her as I rinsed her and patted her dry "You will be just right for each other. I am so happy for you!"

As I came back out to the front room of the rescue, Jim was sitting and waiting for her as she walked up and nuzzled her head under his hand and looked up at him. "HIS dog!" Janet laughed, and they prepared to go. 

I gave both Janet and Jim a hug and a kiss on the cheek. "Thank you so much for everything you did for us," I said to Jim, and I looked closely at this Vietnam hat and all the medals he had on it. My eyes rested on the pin that said "POW," and I immediately got tears again. "Oh, you're welcome!" he said cheerfully and unassumingly - like it wasn't anything - and he gave my arm a squeeze. "Come on girl," he said to Purdie as I watched him walk out with his hand resting on her head as they walked towards the door. The former soldier - crippled up by his service and the rescue dog with the sketchy past - but truly, a boy and his dog.