I have always believed that if a person poses a serious seeking question to their Higher Power, the Universe will undoubtedly answer them. The tricky part, of course, is being able to identify the answer being given. This summer I had a dilemma that I felt needed some higher guidance. So I followed my philosophy and asked my question. My answer came in the form of a dog-named Betsy, but first I need to start with the cat-named Rusty.

My children wanted to call him Candy after a beautiful cat in a children's book they loved. I felt the name didn't fit him because he reminded me so much of an ally cat my sister's and I had fed as a child. When I was in Kindergarten everyday after school this rusty colored cat would wait for my sister's and I to gift him with a delectable can of tuna generously provided by my mother. My sister's and I called our ally cat Rusty and one day Rusty didn't show up and we feared the worst. We concluded that some unsuspecting car must have got him. Sadly we never did see him again. So when nearly twenty-five years later this other rusty colored ally cat showed up in my yard mooching for food, it seemed to me the only thing I could call him was Rusty.

My husband and I never had any intention of ever having pets. For two reasons. One was that my husband and I are severely allergic to animals. We would have actually adored a pet. In fact the interesting thing was, about two months before Rusty number two showed up in our lives, I was actually complaining to my husband about how much I would love a pet. We had discussed it in the past and ended up deciding it just wasn't worth the risk. Neither of us wanted asthma attacks that badly! The second valid reason for not having pets was that my oldest daughter was very afraid of animals since a dog bit her at a young age. Watching their sister get so scared unfortunately transferred this fear to my younger children.

Then one stormy late March night, destiny took its course. I was doing laundry in the basement and as clear as day, I heard a distinct "Meeoww" coming from the back door leading out to the outside basement steps. Ignoring the resemblance to a horror movie scene, I approached the back door and listened. Again I heard the telltale "Meeoww". With a brave hand Id the door and perched as regal as he pleased was a beautiful orange cat just sitting on the threshold. For a frozen moment he and I watched each other. My dramatic side could have sworn he was somehow delivering me some kind of telepathic message. Before I was able to receive it, he bounced up the stone steps back out into my inky black yard. That event stayed in my mind, but I didn't see him again for nearly four months.

July fourth weekend my children and I were sitting on the back porch trying to catch some breezes in the humid evening while we counted lightening bugs. My oldest daughter spotted the cat first. It was the same cat from March. Even though she is afraid of animals, she got so excited and she begged me to get it something to eat. Nervously she watched at a careful distance away as I fed it. Ever since that fateful bowl of milk and piece of smoked whitefish, he and his trusty kitten pal have been using our yard and garage as their home. We didn't know what we were getting into when we took pity on that hungry cat. We had no idea he and the white and gray kitten (since named Peppermint after another cat in that favorite book) would choose to adopt us. But they did. The next week found us buying cat food and the following week we were buying cat treats. The more I fed them, the more it bothered me that we were getting in too deep. We couldn't bring them in our house because of our severe allergies, but could we keep them outside through the winter? These questions slowly got pushed in the back as I watched my children interact and connect to animals for the first time in their lives.

So I posed my thought-out question and sent it toward Heaven. "What should I do?" I asked. "Find them a good home, or somehow keep them and figure out a way for them to have a safe warm winter?" Then I just sat back and waited for my answer.

Several weeks went by and of course, during this time, the cats were becoming more and more endeared to all of us. I still had no answer to my dilemma. So, I simply continued on with my daily life of family, writing, and errands. One particular errand I do takes me to a community center almost every Friday morning. During these few weeks of 'looking' for my answer I would see this big gangly old dog laying near the doorway of the center with his leash looped around a chair leg on a waiting room chair. There was always a beat-up old frying pan filled with water near the dog. I never saw an owner and just assumed the owner had an appointment at the center every week at that time. On the fourth Friday of seeing the dog there, on my way out I finally saw a person sitting with the dog. Something propelled me to say hello to the lady that I guessed might be the dog's owner (and I use that term loosely).

"Hi there!" I started. "Is this your dog?"

The older lady flashed me a warm smile missing one tooth. "I suppose you could say that." Was all she answered.

I pressed her. "What's the dogs name?"

For answer she patted the dog a hearty pat. "This here is Betsy. Say hello Betsy." Betsy rolled her head in my direction and acknowledged me with her big bloodshot dog eyes.

I smiled at Betsy and gave her a returning pet. Putting on my sunglasses I told the woman it was nice to meet Betsy's other half after so many weeks of seeing her here waiting. Then in a final parting comment I asked how long Betsy had been with her.

"Oh now that's some story!" The older lady exclaimed. Being a writer I instinctively perk up when someone tells me they have a 'story' to share with me. This woman had no idea I was a writer or someone seeking an answer from the Heavens. She didn't even know I had a couple of ally cats hanging around my yard.

"Ten years ago," she started. "I had just lost my dear dog friend that I had had with me for over thirteen years. I decided that I wouldn't get another one and my landlord even told me 'No more pets!'"

Curious now I asked her, "So how did you get Betsy?"

For an answer, she cackled out a chuckle and said simply, "Betsy got ME! One day there she was, just standing in front of my apartment and I could see when she walked she had a terrible limp. Real pathetic like. So I felt bad and went up and brought her down some food. And so everyday I would see her waiting for me. Finally I decided to take her to a vet to find out why she limped. Turns out she had a rare surgery that fixed her hip and she had re-injured it somehow. The vet contacted the only doctor in Illinois who does such a surgery for dogs hoping we could find her owner. Well, that doctor had no record of such a dog, so I decided to take her for good. My landlord wasn't too happy, but it's been about ten years now, and she is still with me." She became thoughtful and continued, "She was a real blessing. She has been a loyal friend to me for all these years. Such a good friend. It sure was MY lucky day when SHE found me! The animals that adopt people are the most special animals. They know somehow who needs them, and they adopt us."

I stood there stunned speechless. This was undoubtedly my answer. It was so true what she said. Had Rusty and Peppermint never come into our lives, my children might have been scared of animals for the rest of their lives. In fact, my oldest daughter has come around with animals so profoundly that recently she went to play at a friend's house that has a huge dog. Normally she asks friends to put away their pets because she is afraid. She told me she didn't even ask them to put the dog away like she usually does. She said she figured that if they told her their dog was friendly, she trusted them. She rationalized that because Rusty is friendly it made her believe that other animals are friendly too.

Before I could even say anything to comment on this woman's story, she started to talk again.

"You know I have this really good friend, she is an elderly lady now. Older than me even." She paused to chuckle and then became serious. "She is a Holocaust survivor and she often talks about a dog she had during the war. She was hiding in the forest all alone and one day this dog sort of just befriended her. Now she didn't have much food, but whatever she found she shared with that dog. Together they hid in the forest until the war was over. She tells me often how much that dog helped her spirits. It was almost like that dog was protecting her somehow."

"What happened to the dog after the war?" I asked curiously.

"Well, that's a story in itself. This woman was due to come to America and she couldn't very well take a dog with her. It was hard enough for her to come here let alone having a dog come with. So she went searching for just the right place for that dog." She laughed. "Funny thing was she told me how she almost didn't come to America when she planned because she wasn't sure she would find the dog the right home. She wanted the dog's home to be special for such a special dog. Eventually she did find the right place and she never saw the dog again. But she talks about that dog so fondly that you'd think that she knew him more than just the last year of the war."

"That's an amazing story." I commented.

"No, what's amazing is that these animals chose us. It's the special one's who do you know."

With a light and thoughtful heart I agreed with her, and then we said our good-bye's as Betsy looked on. Later that night my husband and I agreed that those two wonderful pet stories made up my unique answer. The interesting parts of my answer were the choices I was given. To me my message stated this: Here are your choices. One, you could go ahead and keep Rusty and Peppermint and somehow over come the allergy situation like the lady did when she kept Betsy. She overcame her hurdle of 'I can't keep this pet because of my landlady' and it worked out wonderfully. Two, you can enjoy the time you have with them, and then find a worthy home for them. Either way, my answer stressed 'free will'. Both choices I make would be the correct one, but I am free to choose what I feel is best for us. The pressure eased and we are still deciding on what to do. However in the meantime, we are thoroughly enjoying our Rusty and Peppermint. I suppose the most interesting part of this whole tale is that the next week and all the weeks after that, I never did see Betsy or her 'other half' at the center again. I suppose their business there was complete.

*Note: Since this article was written, OUR adoption has been completed. Rusty and Peppermint have had their shots done and I found this stuff to rub on their fur that makes us less allergic to them. They have had a warm winter lounging in our house. Oh, and my children are thinking of finding a girlfriend for Rusty. Heaven help me!!