Uncomfortable with exposing her heart, she returned the conversation to Hope. “I don’t know how to get her to eat. She’s not aware of her surroundings that I can tell, but I’m assuming the vet’s office had her eat at some point before sending her home.”
Rachel reached for the spoon. “Can I try?”
“Sure.” She handed over the scoop of dog food. “I held it up to her mouth, but she didn’t bat an eye.”
“Her vision and scent could be affected by her trauma. You’ll have to physically open her mouth.” As she said it, Rachel used her free hand to lift Hope’s jowls and pry her jaws apart. She slipped the spoon inside Hope’s mouth.
Hope’s mouth moved, and she swallowed the food.
“She did it.” Luna never knew she’d be excited over a dog eating, but it felt like Christmas morning and opening the exact gift she’d asked for.
“She’ll get better with each feeding.” Rachel scooped another small spoonful. “Go slow and steady with her.”
Luna grabbed a tissue from a box on the shelf and wiped around Hope’s snout. The injured pup didn’t have the motor skills to keep all the food in her mouth and little dribbles hung from her fur. “You’re doing great, Hope. I know it’s hard but keep trying.”
She had to believe Hope could understand her even if there were no outward signs of comprehension. As long as Hope remained in her care, Luna would speak to her and encourage her improvement.
Four bites later, Hope rejected any more offers of food. Rachel set the spoon aside and covered the can with a lid. “Don’t push her to eat more than she wants. Her body knows what she needs, and she’ll need to work up to regular portions.”
Luna twisted the cap off the water bottle and suctioned out several milliliters of water. Following Rachel’s example, she opened Hope’s mouth and squirted the water toward the back of Hope’s throat. She repeated the process several times. “Do you think God hears our every prayer, even regarding animals?”
Rachel brushed her hands on her knees then stood. “Absolutely.”
“Part of my brain argues that it’s foolish, but I’ve been praying constantly for Hope’s healing.” She gathered all they’d used for feeding and dropped the items in the bag.
“I prayed for Roxie this summer when she had cancer and had her leg amputated.” Rachel spoke with an air of confidence. “I might not have all the answers about God and how he works, but I do know that we can approach Him about anything, and I mean anything. He isn’t a dictator that wants to rule our lives from afar. He wants to be a part of us, involved with our everyday lives.”
She rose to her feet and stood beside Rachel. “All this faith stuff is new to me. It’s like I’m a kid in kindergarten again and have to start at the basics.”
“We all start somewhere.” Rachel took her hand and squeezed it. “What’s important is that you don’t give up. Keep learning and studying and asking questions.”
Don’t give up. That had been her life motto for many years, but she wanted more. She wanted more than to just survive with her head barely above water. She wanted to thrive, and be joyful, and not always fear what lurked around the corner.
Chapter Six
Thanksgiving came on a brisk fall morning, after several days of unseasonable warmth that had melted and dried the previous week’s snowfall. Leaves swirled in the air, dancing wherever the wind blew them. An overcast sky fit the scene, created an ambiance of coziness.
Carl parked behind a silver sedan that he didn’t recognize in his mother’s driveway. It must belong to Jeff, as no one else was expected. The car was a modest but well-kept model, only a few years old. If a car could have a personality, this one said safe and sturdy. Carl liked that, hoped it translated to the vehicle’s owner as well.
He got out of the truck and circled to the passenger seat. Hope laid on a folded blanket—if her bed would have fit properly, he would have put her on that. Over the last four days, she’d come out of her daze, even managed to eat on her own if he lifted the bowl to her mouth.
She still couldn’t stand and had little motor function. When he and Luna had taken her to the vet Tuesday for a check-in, Dr. Scott had expressed concern about Hope’s quality of life if she never regained her motor skills.
Stalwart, Luna refused to consider the possibility of anything but recovery. She’d firmly told the veterinarian that Hope needed more time and she wasn’t giving up yet. Dr. Scott had smiled and nodded, agreed Hope’s story wasn’t over yet.
Carl scooped Hope into his arms, closed the door with his hip, and carried her to the house, all while thinking how proud he was of Luna. As the days passed, her personality came alive, free from the torment of Manny. He admired her conviction and dedication. Despite working forty hours a week and being an incredible mom to Skye and Mercy, she’d organized a schedule so that Hope was never alone.
Everybody at the shelter pitched in to help while he worked or had other plans. The only times Hope didn’t have anyone watching her were those few hours a week he went to church. It reminded him why he loved working at the shelter. They’d become a second family to him, and he’d go later this evening and participate in their Thanksgiving dinner.
He used his elbow to press the doorbell.
“Coming,” Mom called from inside. Thirty seconds later she opened the door, and her gaze dropped to Hope. “Oh, sweet puppy, I’ve been waiting to meet you.”
He waited for her to stop fawning over the dog, which took a minute. Though they’d never had animals while he was growing up, Mom had always loved them. “Where can I set her?”
Mom held the door open. “Over there, next to the fireplace. She’ll stay toasty there, away from the draft.”
“Thanks.” He laid Hope down and adjusted the blanket around her. Her big brown eyes stared at him, a trust starting to form.
