― Alberto Manguel
Stormbound
I awoke desolate and shivering in the darkened room, my lap blanket cast off and the fire dying in the grate.
Mab was lying on the rug facing me, front paws extended, watching and guarding, obviously concerned by my distress.
I'm okay, I reassured her and rolled off the couch and sat on the rug allowing her to lean into me consolingly as she always did when she felt I was upset.
I was still trembling and my fingers icy. I shuddered again, then forced myself to get up, put a log on the fire and rekindle the embers.
I put on a sweater, then made a rum hot chocolate―heavy on the rum, adding a dollop of whipped cream to assuage my guilt at self -medicating.
I'm okay, I reassured Mab again, but couldn't quite convince myself.
I opened the weather channel and saw the wintry 'bomb cyclone' had arrived despite my belief it would amount to nothing.
Outside the wind was picking up and snow vortexes spiralled silently like sand demons on Mars. I felt equally remote and isolated.
I'm not giving into self pity, I shouted to the walls and to the snow sifting past the windows.
Mab perked up her ears and coked her head sideways as if trying to understand me, but I knew by instinct, I'd be marooned for at least a couple of days, wallowing in melancholy.
At least I was alive, thanks to Mab rescuing me.
My gloom was interrupted by a knock on the door. I was shocked anyone was out in the storm. I expected Mab to bark as she always did at strangers, but saw she was curiously quiet.
I opened to Maeve's smiling face, her arms laden with Chinese takeout from Mandarin.
"I didn't want you to be alone so I stopped off and brought a feast to cheer you."
Tears filled my eyes. "Thanks, Maeve, but you shouldn't have chanced driving in this storm―no way you're going to be able to drive back home."
She smiled mischievously, "I kind of figured that."
And then she was in my arms, my tear-stained face buried in her damp hair.
"We both need to dry off now," she laughed, as I took her coat and led her back into the den.
All the while, Mab was by her side and when she finally sat down, dutifully curled up at her feet.
"You sure you're not secretly communicating with her?" I laughed.
"We're similar in temperament. She's a comforter and recognizes that same trait in me."
"Are you saying she's some sort of animal spirit guide?" I asked, incredulously.
"She may be, but she has the qualities of a rescue dog. Anyway, we don't choose our guides―they choose us and help us get by."
I thought about Mab rescuing me on the Bruce Trail and my own inability to rescue Avery in my dream.
It was more than coincidence Maeve showed up. If anyone ever needed rescuing it was me.