The Lost Dog of Medjugorje by Maree Sobolewski

Medjugorje, 2013. As it was wet and raining, our host family drove us up to the St. James Catholic Church. There, sitting on the main road at a busy curve and intersection, in the center of town, was a small, dejected, soaking wet, frightened dog. Our host had to be careful not to run over it. I immediately asked her to stop the car and let us out.

With concern, my husband, John, and I approached the nervous little dog who would not move from the middle of this busy road. With a little effort and enticing, I managed to pick her up and take her to the shops across the way. Thoughts flowed. What was I to do with this lonely and lost dog? With John’s five tissues, I wiped as much water off her as I could while he went to buy more. As I waited, I encouraged her to lay down as I wrapped my denim jacket over her cold, shivering body.

After John’s return and more drying, I approached a few shops, to no avail. No one lived locally, no one knew whose dog it was or seemed to care that much. The lady from the nearest shop told me the dog had been sitting in the middle of the road in the rain for an hour. I asked if she minded if I let the dog sit in front of her shop where it was dry. A big “aghast” and “no.” No compassion there. I spoke to a Croatian man going into the shop. He threw up his hands and said, “Not my dog. What can I do?” I went over to the information center at the church. No help or interest from the lady at the desk there, either.

A taxi driver started talking to me and said the dog needed to go to the vet in a town nearby, as it was sick or soon would be from sitting in the road in the rain. He called the driver who was at the top of the queue for the next job to speak to us. I was lost. What could I do? What should I do? Who would leave a little dog in the middle of the road for that long? Why did the dog stay in the middle of the road? What if it was sick or what if it belonged to someone? My thoughts were running and processing much. Should I take the taxi driver’s advice? John was saying no. If the vet said the dog was well, what would I do next?

The little orphan, still with a shiver or two, lay at my feet. Its fate was in my hands. I felt out of my depth with language barriers and more. I checked her all over and she seemed fine to my touch—no reaction or apparent injuries. I decided I would take her to church with me for the 10 a.m. English-speaking Mass. As John sat in the church, I stood in the foyer, holding the dog comfortingly in my coat. Occasionally she hopefully looked up into my eyes. Who was this lady reassuring it?

I had not noticed the no dog sign that was posted on the church grounds. Halfway through the Mass, a church security guard approached me and indicated for me to take the dog back to the street. I gestured no, the dog was in my arms and staying here with me, but I would oblige by just standing outside the foyer where I could avoid the rain. He could see that this was my limit. I would not desert this little “lost dog.” With this, the guard left me be.

I prayed during the Mass. I tried to hold back tears, but some managed to tumble down. My heart felt heavy. What do I do with this lost dog, Lord? I pleaded. Where is its home? Where do I take it? . . . Then I heard a voice in my heart that brought me peace. It instructed me to take the dog to a place called Mary’s Meals for Children that I had seen while walking the Apparition Hill a few days before. There was another word I heard—caritas—that I set aside.

After Mass, we went with the dog to speak to someone at Mary’s Meals. No one was there. There was a school nearby; perhaps the dog had followed one of the children? I left John with the dog outside a bakery and approached the school. There were parents outside waiting but no one in the office. I returned to John. A few passing schoolchildren patted the dog but did not know her. I reflected as I waited. I had to let things unfold step by step.

We approached Mary’s Meals again, and this time someone was there: Rosie, a Catholic English woman married to a Croatian man, a mother of six children who worked in this outreach center. What a blessing! She understood the plight of animals here and we could now speak in English. She loved the little dog and invited us in for a cup of tea and gave the dog some milk.

Rosie’s husband arrived with one of their sons, who nursed and lovingly cuddled the dog. Sadly, the dog would not be going home with them. Rosie’s husband was a guide. He had just come back from taking a group up Cross Hill, where many stray dogs, some like ours, follow pilgrims who give them food. He had seen this often and would not take the dog. Six had already followed him today! But Rosie had another answer: Swanie, an Austrian lady in Medjugorje who took in stray animals.

A taxi took us out to St. Francis Park, a refuge for displaced donkeys and horses. We were told Swanie might be there. She was not, but two Croatian-speaking men were. My heart was beating and my head processing once again. What do we do next? Do they know Swanie? One guy was indicating the place next door but said that she would not be back for an hour. The other rang her and lent me his phone to complete the conversation. I was relieved because she spoke fluent English. My heart was aching for this little dog. I hoped and wondered if she would take her.

Swanie said there were many stray dogs here and that people could treat them terribly. Many pilgrims say how much they love the dogs but have little to offer them but their prayers. She told me of the many animals they have and how much it cost to feed them for a month. Then came the good news: she would come and take the dog. We would go over to the yellow house next door and wait.

But first a fright. The little dog jumped out of John’s arms as he passed her to me and began to run away. I had visions of a dog, after all this, running off into the wilderness. After moments of avoidance, a few dashes, and finally some words of authority from me combined with my outstretched hand, I managed to gather her up in my arms once again.

Soon Swanie arrived with Irma, a German lady. The yellow house where we had been waiting was a Caritas house. Caritas was the second word I had received at Mass. Bonded by a love and respect for animals, the rapport was instant between us all. Swanie, who was obviously very educated, had been here in Medjugorje for 17 years taking care of stray animals. She had adopted this role, over and above her other welfare work with the Franciscans and Caritas.

She explained how dismally animals were regarded here. Pet food was just starting to appear here. Next week Swanie would be taking 15 dogs and numerous cats to Austria to place in homes. The animals get their vaccinations and any necessary documentation before leaving. What ladies and their helpers! God’s angels.

The little dog of ours must have been very elusive, as Swanie recognized her as the dog she had been trying to catch for over a year. I said to Swanie, “I think the Holy Spirit brought her to me to bring her to you. I think God wants to affirm you and the work you do. I don’t know how you cope. I would cry day and night. It would hurt very much at times.” She just looked at me agreeing as I said these words. Even so, there was much joy in what she did.

Irma and Swanie put a collar and a lead on the little dog. We went inside to wait and met a couple of other people. The dog looked around tentatively, sensing it was being cared for. When we found her, I think she must have been exhausted, having been hunted from all quarters, and left to sit hopelessly in the rain in the middle of the road. Here she was beginning to find peace.

They would take the little dog back to one of their places, and tomorrow we were invited to visit and see the animals at Swanie’s. We were happy. After a lift back to the church, I placed the dog in Irma’s hands, waving as they drove off. A job done, and very happy hearts for us both. We returned to the church to pray and give thanks.

Leaving the church after a considerable time of adoration, I saw the security card once again. I felt compelled to approach him and hoped he would understand. I gestured that God had blessed the little dog and said we had found her a home. He understood. He warmly took me by the hand and kissed it, happy with my words, and said pleadingly, “I am sorry, it is my job,” as he gestured to the sign. I said it was OK, that I understood. He smiled and waved and said goodbye.

We walked to our lodgings in the rain, two very contented people. But one more blessing was to come. Just before we were to cross the road to where we were staying, a lady in the front of a house behind us sang out, “Wait, wait!” We looked around to see Irma! I was amazed and asked where the little dog was. She said, “Here.”

She blew kisses at us as we left, just as happy as we were. The last words she spoke were that there “are always surprises in Medjugorje.” As I write this story, the little dog is being cared for just across the road and down a couple of houses.

Mary says to always pray first. This we did, and tonight we will sleep knowing that this little dog has a home and a future.

Epilogue

We visited Frances—the name they gave to the dog—the next day and each day for the rest of that week, until it was time for us to leave this place of pilgrimage.

Frances loved our visits. Her shy little eyes would meet ours and her tail wagged. She was at peace. She knew she was loved. She was so well cared for, as were the other welcoming, furry residents.

By the end of the week, Frances’s vaccinations and documentation were complete. In three weeks she would be going to her new home in Germany. Her documentation had Franze on it, which is German for Frances. Swanie and Erma wanted to name the dog after me. I asked she be named Frances, my second name, and after St. Francis who also loved all God’s creatures. She was in his hands.

During that last week in Medjugorje, I had the opportunity to speak, just for a moment, to Vicka, one of the visionaries who has experienced an apparition of Mary. I expressed my deep concern for the street dogs in Medjugorje and asked if she would speak to Mary about it. I pray these prayers will continue to be heard. Not only for Medjugorje, but for elsewhere in the world, too.

I give thanks to God and these “Good Samaritan” women. We are all interconnected. God loves all his creation, and our tender care of these beautiful animals is important to him. These two women knew this well.

I recently learned that under the care of Swanie and Irma (and a later helper, Ivana), hundreds of dogs and cats were nursed back to health, neutered, provided with the necessary papers, and brought to German-speaking countries. This was from an obituary notice for Swanie, who died in 2022. Her deep concern for the “marginalized” of all kinds, I am sure, will continue in her prayers from above. ♦

Maree Sobolewski is a committed Catholic from Australia. She holds a master of arts in theology and spirituality and is a team member of Catholic Church Reform International. She has worked as an educator, a retreat leader and seminar facilitator, and a school chaplain, and has served as a missionary in Tasmania and the Northwest Territories of Canada. Maree has been actively involved in her parish for most of her adult life. She has served as a board member, prayer group leader, and international event coordinator, among other roles.

Image: Liam Ward / Unsplash