Hounded from Heaven!
I was late and in a hurry – so why on earth did I stop to pet the dog?
Purse, phone, car keys… I had an important work interview, and was doing the usual mental checks before I left the house. I didn’t want to be late or disorganised.
Opening the garage door, something on the drive caught my eye. Coming towards me was the cutest little dog, a Volpino, like a miniature fox, all waggy tail and friendly nature.
I love dogs and, although I was in a hurry, I had an irresistible urge to go and stroke him.
‘Hello boy!’ I laughed, as he appreciatively rolled over. ‘My dad would have loved you!’
My dad had died the previous year. He was dog mad and even in his final days when he could barely walk, he said he would risk falling over to pet one!
Oddly, I’d had a really vivid dream about Dad that morning. I’d woken up to smell his favourite soap – it was almost lingering in the air while I got dressed.
I grew up in Essex, part of a loving, close family. Dad was a quiet man, but he had a silly sense of humour and could always make me laugh.
After marrying my Italian husband Guido, we’d moved to the village where his family were from in Tuscany. I’d started a new career as an author writing about my experiences travelling.
‘Oh no, I’m late!’ I suddenly realised.
Jumping in the car, I drove out the garage and sped off.
Returning home later that afternoon, I realised that not only was the gate wide open, but the garage door, too! In my haste to leave that morning I’d driven off without closing or locking everything up. Not only that, there was an overwhelming smell of gas in the garage, too.
I called out the gasman, who discovered an old gas canister that had fallen over and was leaking over the garage floor.
‘If you’d started your car in the garage this morning without letting the garage air, the whole place would have exploded,’ he told me.
I would have been killed!
The dog had saved my life by causing me to leave the garage door open and let the deadly gas escape while I petted him.
In the months that followed, I went over to England and visited a psychic.
‘Your mum’s the chatty one in spirit,’ she chuckled. ‘But your dad is the one protecting you.’
Then she said: ‘He’s showing me a dog. He really loves dogs, doesn’t he?’
The hairs on my arms stood up as it struck me – Dad had sent that dog to save me!
Since then, I’ve felt Dad’s presence with me. If I’m driving too fast, I sense his spirit saying, ‘Slow down!’ Or if there is a situation I’m unsure about, I feel Dad guiding me. It’s such a comfort to have him close.