David Dwyer

Whatever that noise was, it didn't sound human, but it's not like I'm making a noise and then a howl is, you know, calling back, or a coyote's howling at the moon.

There was a rhythm, something is answering.

Me yelling, Kelly, something is answering back.

Something, someone.

I just kept walking and trying to follow this animalistic noise.

And enough time went by that all of a sudden my flashlight picks up this black hole in this frozen white landscape.

frantic, wild, animal-looking eyes.

And she opened her mouth, and that noise that I had been hearing came out of her.

My mind is thinking, it's odd that she's not here.

It's odd she's not on the path walking back, meeting me.

So something is now wrong.

She was tested for MS.

She was tested for cancer.

She was tested for other neurological diseases, diabetes.

She had monitors and halter monitors, and every diagnosis seemed like, well, maybe that sounds logical, only to have it ruled out and only her to keep getting sicker and sicker.

So for her to, in the early afternoon, to say, I'm going outside, I'm strapping on my snowshoes, and I'm going to the beaver pond, I'm going for a hike, was excellent news.

That was exciting.

That's great.

She's feeling good enough to just get out there and enjoy the sun and enjoy the day.

For me, I walked in and it absolutely was love at first sight.