“Mom, for the ten thousandth time, Dani has made her own choices. Trying to rescue her will only make it worse. You need to let her hit bottom.”
Chrissy teaches fourth grade. Maybe that’s why she always talks to me like I’m nine years old. But she’s always had a tendency to lecture. When she was about six, I walked past Chrissy’s bedroom and heard her scolding the teddy bears for not washing their paws before her pretend tea party.
“It’s easy to say that. But when I’m lying in bed and it’s warm under the covers but freezing outside, and I think of Dani out there—” I felt something brush my leg and looked down to see Blixen leaning against me, her muzzle resting on my knee.
“Mom, you raised seven kids and six of us turned out just fine. Do you know what the odds are against that happening these days? Half of my friend’s kids are in therapy, and the other half ought to be. You were a great mother. But Dani is just . . . broken. Beyond repair. Hopeless.”
“Don’t say that. Nobody is beyond hope, ever. If I could only find her, talk to her. She needs help.”
“You can’t give Dani money. She’ll only—”
“I know that,” I snapped.
Really, how did I raise a child who is not only bossy but pedantic to boot?
“I packed a bag with food and clothes and a waterproof sleeping bag and put it in the car, in case I see her when I’m driving around town.” Chrissy started to argue with me, but I talked right over her objections. “You didn’t hear her when she called. She sounded desperate, sick, and weak. I can’t force her to get help, but I can keep her from starving or freezing. If I let her know that I’ll always be there for her, maybe someday she’ll believe me.”
“Like she doesn’t already,” Chrissy scoffed. “The second Dani pulls one of her little dramas, you’ll drop everything and run to the rescue. Did it ever occur to you that she might need a little tough love?”
I took a deep breath and counted to five.
“Chrissy, it was thirty-four degrees and pouring rain last night. Your sister is hungry and homeless. She’s a hostage to an addiction so strong it makes her forget everything except getting her next fix. How much tougher do you think love should be?”
Chrissy was silent, leaving me space to regret my rebuke. And I did regret it, not my words, but the way I’d said them.
As I was about to apologize, she said, “Well, I don’t know how you expect to find her. Or what you imagine would happen if you did. She’s had so many chances and thrown them all away. You’ve done everything for her, Mom. It upsets me to see you feeling bad about Dani when you’ve done such a good job with the rest of us.”
Chrissy is protective of anyone she cares for, including me. She’s always been like that—a motherly fussbudget. When she was little, it was sweet. In some ways it still is. But she’s more set in her ways than she used to be, and more judgmental. I love Chrissy. I love all my kids. Nothing will ever change that. But some days, liking them can be hard.
“Honey, I’m glad you think I was a good mother. But don’t you see? My search for Dani is part of that. It’s a big city. I know I probably won’t be able to find her, not unless she wants to be found. But I’m going to keep looking. She’s my tenth sheep.”
“Dani’s a sheep?” she asked, sounding confused.
“Like in the parable. When one of the sheep went missing, the shepherd left the other nine in a safe place and searched for the one that was lost. Your sister is my tenth sheep. I’ll never give up looking for her, Chrissy. I can’t.”
Not long after I got off the phone with Chrissy, Donna Gomer, the care coordinator for Rainbow Gate, called. One of the rescue’s other volunteers had suffered a stroke and died, leaving behind his own two dogs—a pair of black Labs—and a bulldog he was fostering.
Leaving Blixen and the rest of the pack at home, I dropped everything and drove to Sandy, near Mount Hood, to pick up the orphaned dogs. One of the Labs, Mildred, was holding one eye closed. Though it didn’t seem like an emergency, I decided to drop by the animal hospital and ask Dr. Kelly to take a look. But first I drove to the pet shop. Lovey, the bulldog, was on a special diet and needed a particular brand of canned food. And with so many dogs in residence, I was going to need more kibble. Sylvia was glad to see me and happy to hear we were going to move forward with her idea for the dog jackets.
“I thought we’d display them here,” she said, walking me to an endcap near the front door that was currently stocked with leashes. “That way people will see them right when they come in.”
“You are so sweet to do this. But are you sure you want to donate all of the proceeds to the rescue? You deserve to make at least a little profit.”
“A little profit is all I’ve ever made,” Sylvia laughed. “You don’t open a pet shop because you plan to get rich; you do it because you love animals. Besides, Rainbow Gate does good work. And look at all the business you give me.” She pointed to the counter where I’d stacked all my purchases. “You’re taking care of seven dogs? I don’t know where you find the energy.”
“It’s just temporary. Hopefully the rescue will be able to find permanent homes for them soon.”
Sylvia offered to help carry the dog food to my car, but then the phone rang
