I’ve been delivering items for UPS in this neighbourhood for over a year. The streets, the people, and the barking dogs behind fences are all still there. But this blue heeler? He’s not the same person.
He started showing up about six weeks ago. He would just stand at the end of a certain driveway and watch me. He didn’t bark or snarl at all. Just looking. At first, I thought he was just interested, like a new rescue dog. But every time I brought him a package, he would run up and sit at my feet.
I don’t really like dogs, but there was something about him that made me feel like I knew him. I thought we had met before, but I knew we hadn’t.
Then, on a Thursday when it was raining, I knelt down to pet him. “Hey buddy, what’s your name?” I asked him. as I rubbed his ears.
And I promise you, he inclined his head, made a gentle sound, and then looked straight into my eyes as if he were waiting for me to say something.
At that point, his tag became clear. It wasn’t the same kind. No name. It was merely a little piece of metal with the words “clear as day” stamped on it.
“MIKA.”
That’s what they call me.
I believed someone nearby could be messing with me. But what about the mansion he kept standing in front of? No one has lived there in more than a year. The yard is too huge. No mail. There was simply a yellowed sign that said “FOR SALE” that was barely hanging on.
I asked people and even looked at the shelter’s listings. No one had told him he was missing.
And today, when I showed up with a delivery two streets over, he was already there, wagging his tail.
This time, he had something in his mouth.
It was a note. The plain white envelope was a little moist from the morning dew. The dog dropped it gently at my feet, sat back, and stared at me as if it were waiting for something. My heart raced. Was this some kind of joke? Or worse, did someone want to talk to me?
I gingerly picked up the envelope, expecting it to either explode or smell bad. But it didn’t seem special. Not too heavy. I flipped it over and froze. On the front, there were three words inscribed in clear block letters: “For Mila Only.”
When I opened it, I shook my hands. There was a small key and a piece of paper that had been rolled up on the reverse. I opened the note and read:
“Dear Mila,
If you’re reading this, Blue found you. That brilliant guy always knows how to get in touch with the correct individual. Please don’t be scared. It’s not about being in danger; it’s about finding solutions. Get the key. The door to the ancient house on Willow Lane is red. You will know which one. If you trust me (and I hope you do), go inside. You have something there.
“Thanks, A Friend.”
The writing was weird, but the tone was warm and almost comforting. I still wasn’t sure. Who writes weird comments on stray dogs? And why would they choose me?
As if to advise me to move, Blue prodded my leg with his nose. His big brown eyes seemed to urge, “Come on.” You can believe me.
Even though it didn’t make sense, I decided to go through with the plan. I drove to Willow Lane after I finished my deliveries for the day. There was just one house with a red door, and it was a cute little cottage with big trees and wildflowers all around it. The windows were dark and dirty, which made it look abandoned, but something made me want to go inside. I know something.
Blue followed me up the shaky steps to the porch without making a sound. I used the key to open the door and went inside. The air smelt ancient, like it hadn’t been cleaned in a long time. But the sunlight coming through the curtains lit up piles of furniture covered in sheets. In the middle of the living room was a wooden table with a small box on it.
Curiosity beat out prudence. I went up to the table and opened the box. Inside were a stack of images, a leather-bound diary, and another letter.
The photographs made me stop. There were pictures of me. The pictures weren’t fresh new; they were old ones from when I was a kid. I was having a good time in the yard. I was on a porch swing with a woman that looked a lot like my mom, although she was younger. I was holding a dog that looked a lot like Blue.
My knees were about to give up. How could this happen? I didn’t remember these memories, yet they seemed real. As if they were living someone else’s life.
The second letter explained everything, or at least as much as anyone could regarding such a weird situation.
* “Mila,
By now, you should have realized that Blue is not just any dog. He was yours, or at least he was. You both grew up in this house. Your family used to own this place before something bad happened. When you were eight, your parents died abruptly, and you had to move in with relatives who lived far away. The tragedy wiped out a lot of your early memories, like those of this house and your best friend.
Blue always thought about you. He stayed here. His neighbours took care of him for a long time, but in the end, everyone went on. Not him. He waited because he knew, deep down, that you would come back.
In the journal, your mom wrote more about your past. She wanted you to remember, even though she couldn’t be there to tell you. These memories may come flooding back one day. Take Blue home until then. He needs to leave now.
I cried while I clutched the letter. It all made sense: the strange way I felt about Blue and the way I felt like I’d been here before every time I walked down this street. It wasn’t just a coincidence; it was fate that brought everything back together after years of being apart.
Blue groaned softly and rested his head on my lap. I gently stroked his fur and whispered, “You found me, didn’t you?” For all this time…
That night, when I left the house with Blue, I felt lighter, like a weight I didn’t know I was carrying had finally been removed. Life constantly returns us back to where we started, which is interesting. Things we lose don’t necessarily go away; they just wait for us to find them again.
People and animals we need sometimes show up in ways we don’t expect. Whether you’re reuniting with old acquaintances or finding parts of yourself that you forgot about, trust the trip. Love never really goes away; it just waits for the right time to show us where we fit in.