The Story of Grace

It's been quite a weekend.

I learned how to make a mean lemon drop martini and found a little Grace. The story of the martini you can find on my other blog, The Suburban Roadshow. The story of Grace is a little longer, and a little more spectacular, so let's get to that first.

On Sunday, Moon and I like to take road trips when the weather's nice, and yesterday was gorgeous. We dropped Sam off with his great-aunt and his great-grandmother, and Max, Moon and I hit the open road (well, as open as it gets on the congested highways and byways of the metro Atlanta area).

We drove to Rockmart, GA, described on its website as "located in the heart of the Coosa Valley area of Northwest Georgia". We went there because it's on the Silver Comet Trail, a wonderful place to breathe a little fresh air and forget the congestion and traffic of day-to-day life in the suburbs. Below are some pix I snapped as we started down the bridge that led to the trail:

So, things were moving along swimmingly until we got about a mile or so down the path and heard the most ungodly noises. At first, I thought it might be kids hiding in the brush and trying to scare people as they walked by, the sounds were that odd. But it would have been impossible to hide along the path there, because along one side was a 10-foot high chain link fence with the old railway track passing beside it, with rusted-out trucks and abandoned-looking buildings sprouting up from the flat, yellow grasses around them. On the other side, the side closest to us, was a 30-40-foot drop down a sheer rock face to a rock-strewn creek bed.

We stopped to see if we could determine the origin of the sounds, and finally zeroed in on a tiny outcropping of rock about 40 feet below us.

The sounds were animal, but so strange we weren't sure if it was a dog, a coyote, or even a bear cub. Whatever it was, it sounded like it was in serious distress, and possibly in pain. We called the Rockmart police (how did out-of-towners find out things like the number for the local police before the advent of the BlackBerry?) and they promised to send an officer out to see what could be done. A family on bicycles rode by and stopped to see what the commotion was. They, too, quickly decided there was no safe way for anyone other than an experienced rock climber to make it down the sheer face of the cliff to the animal--and even if they did, what if it was wild, or so hurt it was impossible to move? They shrugged their shoulders apologetically and rode off. We kept waiting for the police to arrive. Max amused himself by standing on guard to alert us if the police were coming, and posing for pictures.

As we waited, we finally saw a little movement, and realized it was a dog down there, a cinnamon colored dog, and she was definitely in distress.

The police finally arrived after about a half an hour, a lone policeman riding a 4-wheeler. He quickly assessed the situation and told us there was no way he was risking his life for a dog, and animal control would probably say the same thing. There was nothing to be done. He was sorry.

This was about the point that Moon, who isn't the most patient or conforming of men in the first place, started to get a bit annoyed. He walked down the path a little way and found a place where the drop wasn't quite so steep, about a 100 yards down from where the dog was. He came back to where we were standing, and silently handed me his keys and BlackBerry.

"I'm going down," he said, and headed off.

The policeman waited with us, radioing dispatch and the animal control that Moon had gone down.

"Well," I said, "you won't go down for the dog, but if there's a human down there maybe you will, right?"

(Have I mentioned at this point I was a bit grumpy with the whole waiting and who-cares-about-a-dog attitude I was getting? I, too, an not the most patient of people.)

We waited, and the quiet was very loud. I was lying in the dirt on the edge of bank, craning for a glimpse of Moon and praying silently that he wouldn't break his fool neck and that the dog was okay. Finally, after what seemed like forever (but really was only about 10 minutes) I heard Moon call out right beneath me, "I made it".

I tossed him down my jacket to wrap his hand in in case the dog tried to bite him when he went in to get her. He caught it, carefully crossed the stream bed, and reached in to pull out...

...a little Chow mix puppy, terrified but seemingly intact.

He walked back upstream with her, back up the cliff carrying her in his arms, and I have to say it was one of the coolest things I have ever witnessed in my life. I would have married him again right then and there if he'd asked me. How many times in this modern day and age do you actually get to witness a physical act of courage like that? It was quite thrilling.

We walked back to the main road with her, and filled out a police report there by the side of the road. "No one wants her," the police guy told us, "so you can take her if you want."

So she rode back to Marietta cuddled in my lap, and we took her to the animal ER to make sure there were no broken bones or injuries

At the ER, we were told she was a 10-week-old Chow mix who was in relatively perfect health with only some fleas, ticks, and mud to show for her ordeal. They treated her for the fleas and ticks and we took her home. "Oh, by the way," they told us as were were leaving, "she's going to be HUGE."

Oh, goody.

But by then end of the night, I'd gone to Target and spent a fortune on doggie paraphernalia, and named her Grace.

Today, Gracie is curled up asleep in the house, and getting used to her new home. I am not a dog person by any means, but how many dogs drop into your life as dramatically as Gracie did? I can't help but think it was all for a reason. And I'll be the first to tell you we all need a little Grace in our lives. So far, she is a sweet, gentle little thing

So world, meet Gracie, the newest Moon family addition.