Leap of Love

He perked up immediately, turned his head and looked straight down at me and Ryan, standing on the trail thirty feet below. Then he took a step back from the rail, paused for a second, and dashed forward. What is he … ? Before I could tell him to stay, he sprung off his hind legs and hurled his forty-pound body up into the air—over the rail. I couldn’t breathe. I watched helplessly as he plummeted toward the creek below. He hit the water with a splash. Ryan and I raced into the water after him. I pictured myself carrying his shattered body back to the car. Were there any vets nearby? How could I’ve been so stupid as to let him off his leash?

Suddenly, Little Pig’s head popped up in the water. His paws paddled wildly toward us, his pink tongue hanging out—and what looked for all the world like a goofy smile on his face. Ryan reached out and grabbed him. The second we climbed out onto the bank, Little Pig jumped on me, licking my face, relieved to have found us. I laughed in disbelief. “Sit! I need to check if anything’s broken!” I demanded. But he was so happy, he wouldn’t stop bouncing around.

“He seems fine to me,” Ryan said. “It’s a miracle.” No doubt it was. Only God could’ve guided Little Pig’s path. Ryan helped me up and we walked back to the car, keeping a close eye on Little Pig. I couldn’t stop thinking about what that crazy dog had done. A dog that had suffered terrible unkindness made a fearless leap. Fearless because he trusted. Trust cancels fear. Was that the lesson, the answer to my prayer? I stopped walking and put my arms around Ryan. Maybe it was time to take a leap of my own.

By Summer Sheldon, Silverton, Oregon

Photo courtesy of Guideposts