Lincoln was my giant, furry, wolfish companion for over a decade. He came into my life a wild, cautious rescue dog and quickly warmed up to a mostly domesticated life. We stayed wild by walking thousands of kilometers together and he stayed by my side through some challenging seasons. There are few mountain peaks and passes in this area that he hadn’t conquered and nobody could avoid his affection. Lincoln lavished love on everyone and earned himself the hashtag #lincolnlove

While he looked a little wolfy he was a lapdog not too deep down. As he aged he slowed down and I found myself, as most pet owners do, pondering when the end would come. Mountain tops weren’t a part of our regular routine as his hips stiffened up, but we kept our regular morning and evening walks, albeit at a slower pace than a decade previous.  

On a rainy Father’s Day evening we headed out for a meandering, damp summer walk. The day had been so hot that a cool walk had extra appeal. Linc trailed behind me sniffing out all the freshness as we roamed the neighbourhood. We rounded the end of a sidewalk and started to head towards home when Lincoln took a shuddering breath and collapsed. I called his name and looked around realizing that I was without any familiar faces or even a cellphone on me. It was clear that there was nothing I could do for my already gone dog. I stood there reeling and unsure of how to proceed. Linc was over 100 pounds and there was no way I could carry him the remaining handful of blocks home.

In the blur of my shock a man appeared. He lived across the road and had heard me call out my dog’s name while he was appreciating the summer storm from his patio. He joined me in the rain and watched me have reality sink in that my dog had passed. He assured me that he was there to help and asked if he could stay with my dog while I went to get a vehicle. I couldn’t bear the idea of leaving Lincoln behind so asked if I could use his phone to contact family to come and lend a hand.

After that phone call he went back to his house and returned with a towel and a lawnchair for me to sit in as I kept vigil over my dog. I had been sitting on the sidewalk in the rain and he wanted me to be more comfortable. He gave me some more space but returned one final time to leave me with some Kleenex and some cider (a favourite drink of mine) to help with my grief.

His name was Peter and his random act of kindness was a silver lining to a heartbreaking day. It’s been over 2 years since Linc passed and I’ve walked that route hundreds of times but I’ve never seen Peter again. I took a card over but no one answered the door so I’ve never thanked him in person. Time passed in a strange morphed way that sad, soggy evening but in about a half hour he provided for me through a phone, companionship, the physical comfort of a simple chair, and even a drink for me to soothe myself with down the road. My memories of that night are soaked in gratitude for a stranger taking the time to lend a hand.