| We post this annually at the request of members.
by Joan
Briggs *A True Christmas Tale*
When we first were owned by Abigail, we were sitting in a
restaurant, on a fine spring day, chatting to a middle aged
couple. We mentioned that we'd been walking on the hills with
our dog. They were looking for a small dog and asked us what
breed we had. We just happened to have a photo with us :-) and
they immediately said that was just what they would like - but
probably not a puppy. After further discussion about the breed
we gave them the address of a breeder and thought no more of it.
A few weeks later we received a tearful phone call from
the woman who told us this dreadful tale of how they had bought
a young adult Bichon bitch from the breeder we had recommended
and that her husband had taken the little dog on the hills on
the first day - foolishly let her run free and then, despite
calling her and chasing her, he had lost her. They rang the
breeder to ask for her advice and she was distraught at the
news. She and several of her friends, with their Bichons,
searched and searched for the missing little one, but she was
nowhere to be seen..
They refused to give up and every weekend throughout that
spring and the hot, dry summer they came to the hills and
searched. There are foxes on the hills, for whom a little white
dog would be easy prey, there are rabbit snares - and there are
narrow, busy roads, twisting their way through the valleys. They
enquired at every farm and cottage over a wide area, but slowly
hope faded with the knowledge that a dog who had spent her life
in the luxury of the breeder's care, would have a slender chance
to survive in the wild.
They had almost given up after months of searching and
the summer had faded into autumn, when word came of the sighting
of a small light coloured animal at an open garbage dump some
ten miles away. Together with a farmer who owned the adjacent
land, they set out with renewed hope. The owners had long since
given up hope of ever finding their lost Bichon and had bought
another dog - a puppy of an entirely different breed. They had
also moved away from the area and their whereabouts were no
longer known. Only the breeder and her friends had continued the
search.
Their vigil by the open dump was rewarded late one
evening when, in the fading light, a small ragged animal came
out of the adjacent hedgerow to scavenge among the days rubbish.
They moved toward her, but as soon as she saw them she was off
and away, running low under the cover of the hedge and was soon
out of sight. Convinced that this was their lost Bichon, the
searchers spent as much time as possible in the region of the
tip, but the sightings were rare and each time the little animal
eluded them. Once they were almost close enough to net her, but
she got away again.
And so it went on through the shortening days into the long
cold nights of winter. We would look at Abigail, brushed, well
fed and warm , sleeping in her chair and our hearts would ache
for that poor little lonely animal up there on the hills,
finding her scarce food and shelter as best she could.. If we
woke at night to hear the rain and the wind, we would not be
able to sleep again for grieving over her. Through October and
November and into December the searchers kept up their vigil..
Every sighting, however fleeting gave them fresh hope. She was
alive. Then for days she was not seen and hope began to fade. .
With Christmas week upon them, most of the searchers were
unable to continue the quest, but their thoughts and their
prayers were out there on the bare wet hills. So much so that on
Christmas Eve one of the men felt he just had to look again. He
got in his car and drove through the sleeting rain to the
rubbish dump. She was there in the encroaching darkness,
scratching around among the soaking refuse.
For once, although she saw him coming, she did not move away
as he walked slowly toward her. He crouched down and stretched
out his hand toward her with a small piece of food in it. She
hesitated, turned as though to run and then, very cautiously,
came to him.
He gave her the food, gathered her in his arms and took her
home. :-))))))))))))))))))) She had been alone in the wild,
fending for herself for nine months. She was so thin, wary,
drenched to the skin, dirty and ragged. Her long matted coat was
caked with mud and she had scars all over her small body - but
she was alive and now she was safe. There were such tears of joy
in that household on that Christmas Eve as they dried and fed
her - and cradled her in front of the fire until she slept in
peace and safety, for the first time in what must have seemed to
her to have been an eternity. There were more tears of joy and
relief from her breeder, who came the next morning to fetch her,
almost unable to believe that such a miracle had happened. It
was the most wonderful Christmas present she had ever had.. .
Within a few weeks, with the most loving and devoted care, the
little dog was restored to full health. Soon she was as neat and
trim and lively as the other Bichons - and to date , seven years
later, she is still there, safe and happy.......and she always
will be, till the end of her days.
Wishing you all a very HAPPY
HOLIDAY SEASON, Joan & Derek Briggs - with Chas
and Dylan - Jamie close by - and Abigail with Henry
watching over us
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