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I'm retired and not responsible for much these days. I don't have school-age children who require help with their homework. I sleep in when I choose, do a little writing and repair a few things around the house. My wife's work, on the other hand, is never-ending. Diana takes care of her parents in their mid-nineties, tends to home and garden, volunteers for various community organizations, and is a gold-star grandmother. She is also a dedicated cat lover, and cats have always been her pet of choice.
All that changed when two small black-and-brown dogs scampered into our yard and melted Diana's heart. It happened not long ago. The dogs appeared unannounced and had been seen by hikers on numerous occasions, roaming the woods like tiny lost souls. They were homeless dogs, as wild as the wind. No one could get within 100 yards of them. In their struggle for survival, the two had figured out a way to avoid people and find food and shelter in the wilderness.
They were undeniably cute and appealing. Many of our neighbors tried to lure them in with treats, but the tiny dogs remained unapproachable. My wife began leaving tasty food out, slowly moving the food bowl closer with each feeding. As days passed, they ventured closer and closer. Diana made a conscious effort not to frighten them. She called them to dinner with a comforting voice, letting them know they were safe. It was important that they trusted her. Why? She was looking for something to mother. For Diana, love is the medicine to everything, and nothing tugged at her heartstrings more than a hungry and homeless animal.
Diana named them "Emma" and "Daisy" and she called the dogs her "little wolves." Initially, they would not let her touch them. As days turned into weeks, their bond slowly grew. Soon, Diana was petting them. Next, they were eating from her hand. Before long, she had them sitting in her lap and following her around the yard. And poof! My wife was instantly tra