“Please save Daisy. She’s all I have left since Mommy went to heaven. Daddy says she has to die but I know angels ride motorcycles because Mommy said so. I prayed you’d find her. There’s $7.43 in her collar. It’s all my tooth fairy money. Please don’t let her die alone. Love, Madison, age 7. P.S. Daisy likes peanut butter and knows how to shake hands.”
Inside the collar, wrapped in plastic, was $7.43 in quarters and dimes.
I sat down on that cold concrete and cried. This little girl thought $7.43 could save her dog. Thought angels rode motorcycles. Thought prayers worked.
Daisy crawled over, dragging that tumor, and put her head in my lap.
“Your little girl loves you,” I told her. “And she’s right. Sometimes angels do ride motorcycles.”
I called my vet. Dr. Amy. Known her twenty years.
“Amy? It’s Bear. I know it’s 3 AM but I need you.”
“What’s wrong?”
“Found a dog. Abandoned. Has cancer. Kid involved.”
“How bad?”
“Bad. But I need you to try.”
“Bear, if it’s that bad—”
“Amy, a seven-year-old girl gave her tooth fairy money to save this dog. We’re trying.”
Silence. Then, “Bring her in.”
I had to carry Daisy to my truck. Went back for the bike later. She sat in the passenger seat, head on my leg, those eyes never leaving my face.
Amy met us at her clinic. Took one look at Daisy and shook her head.
“Bear, this is advanced. Even if I remove the tumor, it’s probably spread.”
“But you can remove it?”
“Maybe. But it’s expensive. And she’s weak. She might not survive surgery.”
“How expensive?”
“With everything? Three to four thousand.”
I looked at Daisy. Thought about Madison. Seven years old. Lost her mom. About to lose her dog.
“Do it.”
“Bear, you don’t even know this family.”
“I know a little girl is praying for a miracle. That’s enough.”
The surgery took four hours. I waited in the lobby, reading that purple crayon note over and over. Madison had drawn pictures on the back. Stick figures. A girl, a dog, and an angel with a motorcycle.
Amy came out exhausted. “She survived. Tumor’s out. But Bear, it had spread. I got what I could but…”
“How long?”
“Maybe six months. Maybe a year. Maybe longer if we’re lucky.”
“That’s six months to a year more than she had.”
“You spending four grand on a stranger’s dog for maybe six months?”
“I’m spending four grand on a little girl’s hope.”
Daisy recovered slowly. I brought her home. Set up a bed in my living room. She couldn’t walk much at first. But every day, a little stronger. Every day, that tail wagging a little harder.
Now I had to find Madison.
The collar tags had an address. Nice neighborhood that had seen better days. The kind where people were hanging on but barely. I knocked on the door at dinner time, figuring someone would be home.
A man answered. Tired-looking. Dirty work clothes. Suspicious eyes.
“Yeah?”
“You missing a dog?”
His face went white. “You found Daisy? Is she…did you…”
“She’s alive.”
He sagged against the doorframe. “I couldn’t do it. Couldn’t put her down. But I couldn’t watch her suffer either. I’m not a bad person. I just… I work two jobs and it’s still not enough. My wife died last year. Medical bills. I’m drowning. And now Daisy… Madison doesn’t know. Thinks Daisy ran away. It’s killing her but better than knowing I abandoned—”
“DADDY!” A little voice from inside. “Who is it?”
Madison appeared. Seven years old. Blonde pigtails. Missing front teeth. She saw my leather vest and her eyes went wide.
“Are you a biker?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Did you find Daisy? I prayed for a motorcycle angel to find her!” Continue reading…