Angel Dog?

My friend T. loves animals as much as I do; he has a parrot, 2 Jack Russell terriers and until recently a cat. One of his Jack Russells, Lucy, while barely middle-aged in doggy time, has had a very rough life fraught with health problems, but to T., no price was too great and nothing was too much trouble to give his little Lu-Lu the best care possible. Lucy even had her own medicine cabinet, that was how many conditions she had and how many drugs she took regularly, but she was a happy girl and the sweetest dog you'd ever want to meet.
This is Miss Lucy, from a set of pictures I took when we were hanging out together one day. See how her forepaw is shaved? That's from an IV. And you can't really tell in this one, but she was really pudgy, not because she was getting fat but from steroids she was taking.

She's been in doggy ICU off and on for the last couple of months, alternating between having grand mal seizures and being so doped up to prevent seizures that she barely knew her own name. This last time, an MRI (yes, they do - and T. ordered - doggy MRIs) revealed an air pocket in her skull that was pressing on her brain (she's suffered more than one head injury). The neurological-specialist vet said he'd have to do surgery but couldn't guarantee the same thing wouldn't recur as he wasn't sure where air was coming in, and after a couple of consults the professionals decided surgery wasn't really an option because she probably couldn't survive anesthesia. It was a horribly difficult decision that tore T. (and his wife) utterly to pieces, but this past weekend they had Lucy put down. He was destroyed, thoroughly.

Several friends, their vet and me included, have been urging T. to get another dog sooner rather than later - not that you can replace Lucy, not at all, no one would be so crass as to even imply such a thing, but so many animals out there need love, and he has so much love to give; it would be so much better all around for him to put his energy into something positive, instead of grieving. So T. and his wife had been discussing it and mulling over the idea; while they hadn't conclusively decided that the time was right for them to adopt a new dog, the following facts had emerged from discussions: (1) they definitely wanted a female since they still had Buddy, their male Jack Russell; (2) T.'s wife wanted to get an adult dog instead of a puppy, but still a young adult - around a year old; (3) T.'s wife loves Beagles and if they decided to add a dog to the family, she'd really like to look into a Beagle.

Evening before last, a part had come in for his boat (they live on a lake), so T. and his 5-year-old son headed down to the dock to do some boat repairs. T. saw a movement, a shadow - something crouching in a corner of his dock. He approached but it cowered away from him; then his son approached and the shadow bounded out to smother his son with kisses.

It was a Beagle.

A female Beagle.

A female Beagle about a year old, as they learned when they took her to their vet to search for a microchip (there wasn't a microchip).

It's a sign, I truly believe that. T. is a little wary of getting attached, since the actual owner might still turn up, but as I wrote in an e-mail to him a bit ago, "You didn't ask for my opinion, but you're getting it anyway: I think you should keep her, and name her Angela, since she is CLEARLY an angel sent by Lucy." Even if the original owner should come calling, I think it's a sign. The exact breed (and she is quite clearly a Beagle, a textbook Beagle, not a hound mix that might possibly have some Beagle somewhere down the line), of the exact age, of the gender they were discussing just happens to turn up on his dock days after Lucy's departure? I don't care if you believe in God or Fate or the Flying Spaghetti Monster, that's too big a coincidence to be merely coincidence.

<--- Foundling girl, newly bathed and Frontlined, along with most of T.'s son