Where did the Angel go?

Where did the Angel go?(Timothy Lanham) Where Did the Angel Go and should we keep Cassie?

A couple of weeks after our beloved Jack Russell, Dodger, passed away, Wendy and I were driving back from her birthday weekend in Estes Park, Colorado, to Fort Collins. As we wound through the mountain roads, Wendy leaned over and said, “Let’s stop by PetSmart to look at some dog rescues.”
All weekend long, she’d been nudging me about it, but I had resisted. “It’s too soon,” I’d said. “Besides, we still have Penny,” our other Jack Russell. Yet, it was Wendy’s birthday, and her request was gentle but persistent. So, with a sigh and a turn of the wheel, I pulled into the PetSmart parking lot.
Outside the store was bustling with families and hopeful dogs. Puppies were being passed around, their little tails wagging furiously. I whispered to Wendy, “We should look at puppies.” Most of them, though, were already cradled in eager arms or being spoken for at the adoption table. The ones that caught our eye seemed unavailable.
We wandered further down the line of kennels. Wendy stopped in front of a cage holding a mop-haired, timid dog. She crouched down to get a closer look. I hung back, arms crossed, thinking, that’s all we need: an older dog with a bunch of bad habits.
Out of nowhere, a cheerful woman appeared beside Wendy. “She’s a cute dog, isn’t she?” the woman said, her eyes warm and inviting.
I stayed silent while Wendy nodded. The woman asked, “Would you like to take her out and walk her around?” She pulled a leash from her pocket as if she’d been ready for this moment. As she snapped it onto the dog’s collar, she began explaining the dog’s story.
Her name was Cassie. She’d been rescued from a kill shelter in New Mexico and brought here in hopes of finding a family. She’s had a rough life, probably some abuse. But she’s sweet. The woman smiled kindly. “You know, you don’t have to adopt her. You could foster her for a while. Just see how it goes.”
Reluctantly, Cassie stepped out of the kennel. She was cautious, her movements hesitant, but with a little coaxing from Wendy, she began to walk alongside us. Around the building we went, Cassie slowly warming up to the leash.
“I’m not sure this is the right dog,” I muttered to Wendy. She didn’t reply, just kept walking with Cassie, her face thoughtful and quiet.
We passed the adoption table where a volunteer was processing the paperwork for the puppies we’d initially noticed. “Looks like those pups aren’t an option for us,” I said. Wendy remained silent, guiding Cassie gently back toward her kennel.
The friendly woman reappeared out of nowhere as if summoned. “What do you think?” she asked.
Wendy spoke softly, still undecided. The two of them chatted for a while as I wandered off, still unsure about this whole situation. When I returned, Wendy and I stood together, debating. Eventually, we came to an unspoken agreement: we—and I mean we—would give Cassie a try.
We turned to tell the woman, but she was gone. Searching the area, we couldn’t find her anywhere. Finally, we approached the adoption table to let them know we’d decided to foster Cassie.
“We were looking for the other person helping out here,” Wendy explained. “She was the one who told us about Cassie.”
The woman behind the table gave us a puzzled look. “I’m the only one working here today. I’ve been here since we opened.” She then told us Cassie had an appointment tomorrow to get spayed so we made plans to take her to the veterinary clinic.
Wendy and I exchanged glances, a mix of confusion and awe passing between us. Who had that kind lady been? Where had she gone? And why had she seemed so perfectly placed in our path?
As we drove home with Cassie curled up in the backseat, Wendy and I came to a conclusion that the Lady that had shown us Cassie was an angel send down to us to help replace Dodger.
We got home and kept Cassie on a leach for the next week while feeding and cleaning the horse stalls at our ranch. During this time when Wendy left her in the car for a few minutes down at the barn Cassie decided to take all the knobs off the car radio and heating controls. Cassie was also very timid during this time of fostering. I would continually ask Wendy are you sure Cassie is right for us?
Wendy decided one morning to let Cassie just follow her without the leash while feeding the 3 horses in the front pen by the house before going down to the main barn. I was in the shower getting ready for work; while drying off I heard Cassie running from the front door to the side door of the house frantically barking and barking. I quickly slipped on some clothes and went to the front door swinging open yelling “Why the heck is Cassie bark and running from one door to the other?” I then saw Wendy scooting on her stomach to the gate of the horse pen. Cassie and I ran to the horse pen and I grabbed Wendy saying “What happened?” Wendy told me that the horses got confused which horse got which bucket of grain then bumped into her knocking her down and then did a tap dance on my ankle.
Cassie and I helped Wendy hobble up to the house. That moment sealed it for me. Cassie wasn’t just a foster. She was family. To this day, Wendy and I believe that the kind woman who guided us to Cassie wasn’t just a stranger. She was an angel sent to mend our broken hearts and bring Cassie home to us.