On Good Friday, our yorkie of 12 years, Zelda, passed away from congestive heart failure. Zelda was more of a fur baby than a dog in our house. We loved her more than we do most people if I’m being honest. I’m almost certain my mom loved her as much as (if not more than) me. I don’t remember much about life before she came into our lives, so the loss of that precious baby was heartbreaking. I just kept praying to God for strength and comfort.
We knew it would be incredibly lonely in our house without little pattering feet running around, so adopting another dog was inevitable. We just didn’t realize how soon that would be.
While looking at puppies online, we found a possible choice not too far away. A phone call later (which was only intended to see if there were any puppies left and when we could see about adopting one), and we were on our way to pick up a little female chiweenie (chihuahua and dachshund).
Sweet story so far, right? A death and resurrection (if you can use symbolism for adopting a puppy) all during Easter weekend. Let me get to the even better part now.
When my mom talked to the owner on the phone, he told her that God had told him to hold on to the last puppy because someone really needed her. As soon as my mom said our yorkie of 12 years had passed away, the man said he knew she was a good person and needed a new puppy to lift her spirit.
And if that wasn’t beautiful enough…
The puppy was born on January 20th— my mom’s birthday.
God works in mysterious ways, friends.
Meet our little girl, Fifer!