This may seem silly, but my Mom had a minor Christmas miracle this morning.
First off, my mom broke her hand about a week ago. She’s ok, but took a bad fall. Yesterday, we had Christmas at her house to open presents. Her eleven-year-old dog, Patrick (who I consider my dog as well) was extremely excited and active. He’s nuts, but he’s a great dog. Sniffing presents, playing with toys, running around like a crazy animal. Patrick LOVES Christmas.
This morning, I got a frantic call from my mother. Patrick would not come down the stairs to go outside to do his doggy business. This was about 10am. Luckily, she got a hold of the vet to get Prednisone for his arthritis and my grandmother was going to take her there. I was at the grocery store picking up stuff for Christmas Day (INSANE). I said a quick prayer to get that dog downstairs and outside.
While in line, my mom called back, not five minutes later in tears, but they were happy tears. Patrick came down! He went outside! Amen!
I think he overdid it yesterday. Poor buddy. I am grateful for our Christmas miracle, as mundane as it may sound.
Merry Christmas, everyone!