Burt, 91, had given up on miracles after losing his wife and son. But when he came across a puppy left in a cardboard box, things changed. When that same dog vanished two years later, Burt’s search for him revealed a miracle that was much bigger than he could have ever dreamed.
As Burt trudged down the well-traveled road to the church, his old cane tapping against the sidewalk, the fall breeze rustled through the leaves. Every step he took at the age of ninety-one was purposeful, and each breath served as a reminder of the long life he had led—mostly by himself.
The roadway was covered in a pearl-gray veil of morning fog when he heard a sound. A barely heard squeaking cry came from a cardboard box at the side of the road that had been wet by rain.
Burt stooped to look, his rheumatic knees protesting. A small black and white puppy with big, beseeching eyes shuddered inside. “Take care of him!” was written on a crumpled note that was taped to the package.
The sight of the defenseless creature eased the old man’s heart, which had been hardened by decades of loneliness following the deaths of his wife Martha and their son James in that horrific car accident.
“Well, I guess the Lord works in mysterious ways,” he said.
After gathering the puppy in his shaking hands and putting it in his coat, Burt went home. This small soul needed him more than the church could wait.
Sebastian is the name he gave the puppy. Before destiny had different ideas, Martha had always stated that they would give their second kid this name.
The name seemed appropriate, and there was something about the tiny fellow’s sympathetic eyes that reminded him of Martha’s generosity. “I hope you like me, little one!” As the puppy waggled his tiny tail, Burt spoke.
Sebastian’s surprise excitement and boisterous barking flooded Burt’s quiet home from the very first day.
Sebastian developed into a gorgeous dog with a characteristic star-shaped white patch on his chest. Every morning, he would bring Burt his slippers and sit next to him for afternoon tea, as though he understood just what the elderly man needed.
They were inseparable for two years. Burt had a reason to get out of bed, go outside, and smile again because of Sebastian. When the elderly man came back, the dog would wait by the window while Burt went to fetch groceries, wagging his tail so vigorously that his entire body trembled.
The stooping figure and his trusty pet, strolling leisurely but pleasantly along the nighttime streets, became a neighborhood feature.
Then that awful October Thursday arrived.
All morning, Sebastian had been agitated, his ears perking up at a sound that only he could hear. On that particular day, the neighborhood strays were especially loud, their barking resonating from the direction of the former park near the high school.
Burt would hear later that several of the local dogs had come to that area because of a female dog in heat. Sebastian continued to rush to the window, pacing near the door while whimpering gently and twitching his tail.
At first, Burt wasn’t too concerned. Sebastian had never wandered and had always been well-behaved.
Burt had reached for the leash and murmured, “Settle down, boy,” with affection. “We’ll go for our walk after lunch.”
Sebastian, however, became even more agitated. The dog raced to the far corner as soon as Burt let him out into their enclosed yard as usual, staying alert and listening to the barking in the distance. When Burt called Sebastian fifteen minutes after going inside to prepare their lunch, he got no answer.
The gate stood open. In the mailbox, Burt discovered a letter. But there was no sign of Sebastian. Was the gate left open by the postman? Burt’s chest tightened with panic as he looked around the yard, frantically yelling Sebastian’s name.
Days dragged on for hours. Clinging to Sebastian’s tattered leather collar, Burt spent countless hours on his porch, not eating or sleeping. The toughest times were at night. With each tick of the grandfather clock, the silence that had been his constant companion suddenly felt like a raw, gushing wound in his spirit.
He looked up every time the floors creaked, hoping to see Sebastian running in with that pitying expression dogs have when they realize they’ve upset their owners.
Burt’s heart broke into a thousand tiny pieces as he felt the ground slip beneath his feet as his neighbor Tom hurried over with news of a dead puppy on the roadway.
Immediately after the satisfaction of knowing it wasn’t Sebastian, guilt set in. He buried the unidentified dog and prayed for its family wherever they might be since he couldn’t leave another creature unmourned.
His missing posters, which he displayed throughout the town, each recounted a unique tale of grief and love:
“Sebastian is missing. cherished relative. A black and white dog with a patch in the shape of a star on its chest. A home-cooked lunch and unending gratitude are the rewards. Contact: Burt, Maple Avenue, Oak Street, Door No. A31.
The modest offer elicited sympathetic smiles from others, but Burt’s famed pot roast was all he had to offer. When no one called, Burt, holding Sebastian’s favorite chew toy in his shaking hands, pushed open the huge police station doors.
“He’s my only family…” As Burt described his predicament, the desk sergeant hardly raised his head from his computer, his voice faltering in desperation. A couple of officers sitting about grinned at one other.
“Sir,” the sergeant moaned, “we need to solve a hit-and-run, two armed robberies, and three unresolved missing persons cases. Resources cannot be spared to search for a dog that most likely merely ran away.
One of the cops laughed. As he said, “Maybe he found himself a girlfriend!” his coworkers snickered. Burt’s shoulders drooped, and every laugh pierced his heart. A soft voice called out as he turned to go, his cane scuffing the linoleum floor.
“Mister! Wait a minute!”
Even if the police station’s contemptuous laughing was painful, young Officer Charlie’s kind gaze was empathetic. Despite his formal inability to assist, he collected Burt’s phone number and pledged to stay vigilant throughout his patrols.
“My grandmother,” he added softly, “lived by herself with her dog.” Sir, I know how much this dog means to you. I genuinely do.
Burt’s optimism waned two weeks after Sebastian vanished. Maybe from all the walking he’d done looking for Sebastian, or maybe from the weight of grief resettling in his bones, his joints hurt more than normal.
His rotary phone rang as he sat in his armchair, staring at the vacant dog bed in the corner.
Officer Charlie was speaking rapidly, his voice full of excitement. “Mr. Burt? Although I’m not on duty, I heard barking coming from somewhere underground while hiking in the woods close to Old Miller’s land. There is an abandoned well out there; boards have been placed over part of it, but there is still a gap. I believe that you ought to come out here.
Burt could hardly hold his cane because his hands were shaking so much. He rushed to ask his neighbor Tom if he could give him a ride to the woods. After Tom gave his OK, the two drove off. Charlie was waiting with ropes and flashlights when they got to the woods. The young officer was eager for the fire department to arrive, but he had already phoned them.
Mr. Burt, he’s down there. When I shone my light down on his chest, I noticed the white patch that resembled a star.
Burt screamed out to Sebastian, his frail voice quivering as he broke down in tears. “Are you okay down there, my boy? Do you hear me? Give me a sign, please. Please.
“Woof! Woof!” The sound of the well’s well-known bark filled Burt’s heart with hope and lifted his tired soul.
There was a lot of action throughout the next hour. A teenage firefighter was cautiously lowered into the dry, abandoned well once the fire department arrived with the necessary equipment.
As soon as word got out about the rescue, people from all across town came to the scene. A familiar bark resounded from the shadows, and the throng held their breath as they heard movement below.
With tears running down his cheeks, Burt collapsed to his knees.
Sebastian was thin and muddy but yet very much alive when they eventually pulled him up. At the bottom of the well, he had probably been subsisting on rainfall. As soon as they let him go, he ran directly at Burt, almost toppling the elderly guy with his passion.
Sebastian whimpered as though attempting to tell his story all at once, and his tail waggled so vigorously that it appeared to blur, and he smothered Burt’s face with desperate kisses.
Burt wept and buried his face in Sebastian’s filthy fur. “My boy,” he said. “My darling, darling boy. You were missed. You frightened me. As they saw the reunion take place, the assembled crowd wiped away their tears.
An old woman emerged from the crowd and used a handkerchief to wipe at her eyes.
She trembled as she continued, “I’ve been watching Mr. Burt walk past my house every day for the past two weeks,” to no one in particular. “Call that dog’s name every night till his voice breaks. Never have I witnessed such commitment. That kind of love. Such kindness.
Burt muttered, “Sebastian,” while continuing to embrace his puppy. “I thought I’d lost you forever, just like I lost them.” Officer Charlie knelt next to them and put a soft hand on Burt’s shoulder as his voice broke on the final syllable.
“Sir,” Charlie said, “let’s take you both home.” Both you and Sebastian require food and relaxation.
With tears still running down his grizzled face, the elderly man turned to Charlie as Tom assisted him in standing up. He took Charlie’s hand and murmured, “Young man,” “thank you so much.” You’re not aware of what you just gave me back.”
“My grandmother… before she passed away last year, she told me stories about her dog from when she was young,” Charlie said, his tears watering. “Charlie, sometimes angels have four legs,” she would explain. I couldn’t stop thinking about her when I saw your missing posters.
Burt reiterated, “Angels have four legs,” as he glanced down at Sebastian, who had barely moved from his side. “Martha once said something like this. “Dogs are God’s way of reminding us that love speaks without words,” she would say to James.
With a helmet in hand, one of the firefighters came over. “Mr. Burt, we ought to have Sebastian examined by a veterinarian. Do you want us to give someone a call?
“I know a vet who makes house calls,” Tom said. She is a friend of my daughter. I’m going to call her now.”
They were walking back through the woods when a local old man raised his voice. “On your posters, Burt, you stated that the prize would be a home-cooked lunch. Officer Charlie has earned it, in my opinion.
With a return of some of his former dignity, Burt straightened his shoulders. “He has, in fact. Not just Charlie, either. You all came out here to assist me in finding my boy.
As he glanced at the assembled faces, his voice faltered. “I’ve spent the majority of my 63 years in this place by myself. I assumed I was just an elderly man and his dog, forgotten. However, today…” He took a moment to gather himself.
“Nobody’s forgotten, Mr. Burt,” Charlie asserted. “Nobody should be forgotten.”
“Then please,” Burt replied, turning to the audience, “come to supper tomorrow, everyone. My tiny cottage may be a tight fit, but Martha always believed that a house grows to accommodate the love that occupies it.
When they came to the edge of the woods, Sebastian paused and turned to face Burt, who was slowly waving his tail. His eyes were as devoted as they had been the day Burt discovered him in the cardboard box, despite his experience.
“You know,” Burt began in an emotional voice, “I’ve been thinking about that message in the box for the past two weeks. “Look after him,” it stated. But in reality, he has been looking after me the entire time.”
Charlie grinned as he guided Burt over a tough area. “Sometimes, Mr. Burt, that’s exactly how family works.”
More people than Burt’s little cottage had seen in decades gathered there the next evening. As promised, he made a feast, complete with Martha’s apple pie recipe, his unique pot roast, and all the trimmings. Burt persisted when Officer Charlie attempted to refuse the prize.
He remarked, “A promise is a promise,” with sparkling eyes. “Besides, it’s been too long since this house heard laughter.”
Sebastian went from person to person, taking pats and sneaking tidbits of pot roast, but he always came back to put his leg against Burt’s as though to let him know that he was truly home. While serving his visitors, the elderly man’s hands trembled a little, but his smile remained genuine and unwavering.
When everyone had gone home later that evening, Sebastian was curled up at Burt’s feet as he sat in his armchair. After washing and examining the dog, the veterinarian determined that he was hungry and thirsty but generally healthy. They termed it a miracle.
However, Burt was certain that Sebastian’s return to him was more than a mere miracle. It was the fortitude of a town that banded together to help, the compassion of a young police officer who took the time to show concern, and the tenacity of a dog that never gave up on returning home.
The same trusting eyes that had stared out of a cardboard box two years prior gazed up at him as he reached down to scratch behind Sebastian’s ears.
Burt said, “You know,” “Martha always claimed that family finds each other somehow. I suppose she was correct, as always.
The last remnants of loneliness vanished from Burt as Sebastian’s tail drummed in unison against the floor. His home was now the scene of second chances, love that was lost and then rediscovered again, and the silent wonder of two hearts beating in perfect unison. It was no longer just a place of memories and silence.
For the first time in two weeks, man and dog slept soundly that night, each of them knowing they were right at home.
