Whenever I have a big decision to make, I have to mull–and I need a sign. This can be a very lengthy process since I’ve learned over the years that some of my choices based on impulse were totally wrong for me. Big time.

Finding the sign isn’t easy. I mean, I literally pray for the sign and then wait patiently for it to appear. Kind of like the joke about the guy who asked God to save him from drowning. When he got to heaven he asked God why he didn’t save him. God replied, “I sent a rowboat, a motorboat, and a helicopter. What more did you want?”

So, anyway, I’ve mulled for two years about getting a new puppy. I wanted a springer spaniel like Pete https://kathleen-mckee.com/pete/ but wondered if I was too old or too set in my ways, or if I’d find one with the characteristics of Pete that I found so endearing. I wanted the right pup to show up on my doorstep–literally. Obviously, that wasn’t going to happen.

For two years, from time to time, a thought would pop into my head. Call the farmer. Quite honestly, it was as if I could picture my dad standing next to me. Call the farmer. Since I’m not totally crazy, I ignored the image.

Those of you who know Pete’s story realize that my dad picked out Pete from a farm in Lancaster. Call the farmer. Dad’s no longer with us, sad to say, but I’m sure he’s watching over me. Call the farmer.

So, last week, I went to Pete’s file and found his original papers. The farmer’s name and address were included, but no phone number. I googled the address and the farmer’s phone number popped up. When does that ever happen? With goosebumps, I called the farmer.

You’d think that was my sign, but it wasn’t enough. Nor did the farmer raise springers any longer. But he put me in contact with another local farmer, who put m contact with another one. Eventually, I spoke to the owner of 8 new springer pups. Wow.

But I still needed a sign. I went to visit the pups, with very clear expectations. I wanted the same markings as Pete, a docked tail, and no tan eyebrows. They make the dog look like Groucho Marx. And the pup would have to run toward me.

Darn if the first pup to come to me had the eyebrows and totally different markings than Pete. But she was a sweetie. Still, I was ready to walk away until the owner told me that she had worked with Native Americans out west for a year. They believed that those eyebrows were a marking of the Great Spirit. That was my sign.

So, I introduce you to Maggie. She will soon be old enough to come share my home. Don’t be surprised if someday there’s a companion book to Pete’s story. If anything, I know that Maggie will be an adventure.

I had a sign.