One Dog Night

By Cynthia Anne Daniello

One Dog Night is the true story of twenty-five hours the injured author and her border collie, Daisy, spent on the ground in below-freezing weather. During that time, the author recalls her life with Daisy. Included are thoughts about the ups and downs one might encounter when adopting from a rescue group. Also included are training advice and tips for success in competition. This is a heartwarming story of a troubled dog who found love, a home, and a job.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Christian Faith Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Apr 9, 2018
• ISBN: 9781641913171

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One Dog Night

Cynthia Anne Daniello

Copyright © 2018 Cynthia Anne Daniello

All rights reserved

First Edition

Christian Faith Publishing, Inc

New York, NY

First originally published by Christian Faith Publishing, Inc 2018

ISBN 978-1-64191-316-4 (Paperback)

ISBN 978-1-64191-317-1 (Digital)

Printed in the United States of America

To the special dogs who shared their lives with me:

Princess, Tami, Kip, Tildie, Zairah, Heather, and, of course, Daisy.

Acknowledgments

Thank you to my son, Sean Leahy, for his advice, support, and mostly his unwavering belief in this story.

Thanks to Skip Schnibben Wolff for sharing her knowledge of training and love of dogs.

Thank you, Jon Katz, for writing those wonderful books which inspired me to write one of my own.

And thanks to Daisy, whose intelligence and loyalty made this book possible.

Introduction

In the Yukon, there is a term used to describe the depth of the cold of any particular night.

A very cold night might be referred to as a three dog night, indicating one had to take three dogs into his bed to keep him warm.

The night in which this story takes place could well have been a three-dog night or a two at least. However, there was only one little blue border collie female to cover the body of her injured human companion, to protect her from the heavy frost and bitter cold with her soft thick fur and her own body heat.

Part 1

The Long Night

The last lingering fingers of warmth were pulling away as the late November sun disappeared behind the pines. She laid on her side on the yellowing grass behind the barn, her right leg at an impossible angle, and her right arm unmoving. Surprisingly, she felt no pain. Until this moment of approaching dark, she had felt no fear. She knew she needed help. She also knew Kevin, a neighbor, had planned to stop by to make an estimate on some roof damage to the house.

Daisy, her blue border collie, poked about near the hen yard fence. Traces of rabbits, the dampened path of a fat black snake, and the overwhelming aroma of ammonia from the hen droppings assaulted the dog’s sensitive nostrils.

Suddenly it was cold, the moon, a tiny golden fingernail painted on a black velvet canvass. The light on a timer in the hen house snapped on bringing a spot of warmth over the chicken’s water fountain and roost. The hens, now all tucked up together on their perch, began singing their chrring goodnight song. If I could get myself to the fence, the woman thought, maybe I could pull myself up and hop on my good leg until I was into the hen house. I could stay warm there until morning when help might be summoned.

Lying on her left side, she began a sort of sidestroke, kicking with her good leg and pulling her body forward with a clump of stiff grass clutched firmly in her left hand. It was slow going, pull and kick, and stop and breathe. Arriving at a point where she could grip the fence wire, she endeavored to stand, drawing her good leg beneath her and pushing up. The leg was just not strong enough to raise her body upright. She could only pull with her left hand, as the right arm with the dislocated elbow hung useless at her side. She laid back down, with the warm glow of the heat lamp and the