By Brenda Cannon Henley
Some years back my family and I were invited to spend a full ten days in a charming home on a beautiful lake in rural North Carolina. The cabin was furnished nicely and we had every comfort of home plus the use of a nice boat dock, a boathouse, our choice of three different boats, a canoe, skis, and other toys for big boys and girls. We did need to be prepared to bring or buy groceries, and there was a small grocery store about 15 miles toward town.

After almost a week, we had accumulated a good amount of wet clothing, bathing suits, heavy towels, shirts and pants, and I wanted to launder the linen. It was decided that my daughter, DeAnna, and I would be the designated laundry people of our group. Everyone helped us load the car and off we went in search of a laundry mat where we could do all the washing and drying at the same time. Stopping to ask directions to the nearest one provided us with a good plan for lunch and the laundry. We were told the very best North Carolina barbecue in the state was very near our destination.

The area was scenic and our ride was peaceful until DeAnna screamed out in sheer panic, “Follow that truck, Mama. Don’t let it out of your sight.” We were the only two vehicles on that stretch of highway. Normally, I would have asked why she wanted me to follow the truck, but from her tone and demeanor and the look on her face, I simply pressed harder on the gas and stayed in close pursuit. I could see a large male figure driving what appeared to be a farm or ranch truck. DeAnna was screaming, “Blow the horn. Blow the horn, Get his attention. Make him stop.” Finally, I came to my senses and asked what was so terribly wrong. My daughter was crying and out of control. “You can’t see it, Mama. It is on my side of the truck,” she said between giant sobs. “I can’t see what?” I asked. “There is a beautiful golden retriever dog being dragged by that truck. It seems to be tied onto the truck and it is awful. He is killing it. I can see blood from his paws.” The dog was running as fast as he could and was unable to keep up with the vehicle.

I said something to the effect of, “Are you sure?” and DeAnna assured me she was certain. Only thinking of that poor animal, I went faster, blowing the horn, and gesturing. Finally, I saw my chance and I pulled ahead of the truck and cut in front of him. He either had to stop or hit us. I was praying for the first. Before I knew what had happened, DeAnna had jumped out of our car and was running toward the truck. She checked on the dog and went around to the driver’s door where she was proceeding to give the big man a piece of her mind. He acted unconcerned and lumbered out of the vehicle. I looked for weapons in either of his big hands, but saw none. He mumbled that it was his wife’s dog and that she loved it, but he hated it, and if it did not have sense enough to stay in the bed of the truck, too bad. DeAnna said, “You are an awful person. I can’t believe what you have done to this animal.”

Just as she said that, the thought occurred to me that here we were, two lone women on a rural road in a state we were not familiar with, no one knew exactly where we were, and we seemed to have a very mean and angry man on our hands. I was trying to signal DeAnna to back off and quiet down to no avail. She was proceeding to untie the dog and was planning on putting him in my car to get the animal to a vet. Just as I thought, “He is mad enough to kill us, right here, along with the dog,” I heard a car approaching. It was a local sheriff’s deputy. I waved and waved, and glory be, he stopped and came over assessing the scene as he did. When he heard our story and saw the reaction of the man, he assured us he would handle the incident properly. He bundled up the dog and put him in his car and he wrote the man a ticket to appear in court. We exchanged phone numbers so he could call and tell us if the dog made it or not. He promised it would take it directly to the nearest vet.

We got back into our vehicle and headed to the laundry mat. I have thought many times since that pretty morning in North Carolina, “We could have died right there in that bright sunshine, but God was watching over us.” Because of my daughter’s love of animals, she acted without thinking and I followed suit. I am grateful the animal was saved and lived. I prayed it never had to go back to that house again. I can still envision the raw and bloody paws I saw on the side of that road and the look of terror in its beautiful brown eyes.

I thank God that even though we acted without thinking that day, good came of it and the dog was spared, as well as us. But, I have since learned to ask God to help me think before I jump into anything, accuse anyone of anything, or cause hurt to anyone. Perhaps that would be a good goal for the beginning of 2017 for all of us. Happy New Year.
[01-02-2017]

Brenda Cannon Henley can be reached at (409) 781-8788 or,
[email protected]