I have to tell you about my walk in the park on Friday. It was my first day at radiation without my friend Beth. I was feeling emotional and missing her, but I was also excited that I only have three treatments to go. I left radiation with those mixed emotions and headed for the park.

I started on the path and noticed how nice the air felt and smelled. It made me happy just to be outside, enjoying the sunshine on my face. I took out my iPhone so I could take some photos as I was walking. I love the way the sunlight looks striking the dew on the leaves and spider webs. I love the colors of the leaves as the light shines through them. I took several photos and was looking forward to continuing my walk when I heard the sprinklers come on.

I almost turned around and headed back to the car, but decided I could dodge the sprinklers and finish my walk. I was rounding a curve on the path when I looked up and saw a small white dog stumbling on the sidewalk near the park. He was right next to the road that runs beside the park. I watched for a few minutes to see if anyone was with him. He stumbled further along the sidewalk, then turned and headed toward the street.

I decided I should check on him. I ran a little to catch up with him and called out, but he just kept stumbling along. When I finally caught up to him, I reached down and picked him up. My first thought was, “Oh my God – you stink.” I almost wanted to put him down, but then I looked at him. He was blind, with dry crusted matter covering both eyes. He was covered in fleas and very dirty. His toenails were so long they were beginning to curl under. He had on a collar with the name Lucy. I checked – yes, I was right, an intact male – so “Lucy” was probably not his name. I had to clean the tag before I could even begin to see the name or numbers. I called the first number – no answer. Second number – disconnected.

What makes this story so ironic is that I had just been talking to my friend Kim on the way to radiation. We started talking about faith and God. Kim said she thinks we are all here to learn lessons. She said, “If we pass by an animal or a person in need and we don’t help, then that is a lesson we have to go through again.”

So I have all this on my mind and a seven-pound blind, deaf dog in my hands. What should I do? You got it: I call Kim. We decide he needs to go to the vet, so off I go. Now this little guy is pitiful. I take him to the vet, where he gets a bath and his nails trimmed. The vet also gives me something for his eyes. Kim arrives at the vet’s office, looks at the little guy, and gives him another bath. The fleas on him were unbelievable. I get him some flea medication and $70 later, we are out of there.

I continue to look for his owners and I finally reach one of them. He is 14 years old and they have had him all that time. They love him, but they do not have the money to really take good care of him. I ask if he can stay with me. At first the answer was no. Then the owner said they wanted to do what is best for the dog. I will keep the little guy for a week and then the owner will come and visit him here. Hopefully she will decide he can stay, but if not I will help her by taking him to the vet and to get groomed. I just have to do what is right for him.

He seems happy here. He is so ugly that he is cute. He makes my heart feel good. I pick him up and he just relaxes in my arms. I think he feels safe here; at least I hope so. I know this may seem crazy because I already have a house full of dogs. I love them all, and each one touches me in a different way. I have never been great with people but I have always had a way with animals. I am not talking about training them or teaching them tricks. I am talking about a real connection, almost an understanding. Maybe it is because it was animals that got me through my childhood. I needed them for comfort and support and they were always there. Anyway, what is one more seven-pound cutie going to do?

You may wonder what this has to do with my cancer story. I think it has to do with living in the moment, and being aware of what is happening around me. It is the battle with cancer that has made me see how important it is to live in the moment. How important it is to do what I can to help all of God’s creatures, and not to turn my back and think someone else will take care of it.

I hope I can help this little guy have a better life, for the short time he has left. At least I am going to try.