Rescuing Carmella

My daughters had just one thing on their Christmas list—a dog as special as they are.

- Dana Polito-Corry

The girls never asked for much for Christmas. We were in the car; I was driving them to their weekly appointment with the therapist. I could see them in the backseat in the rearview mirror. “Mom,” Tianna said, “I want a dog for Christmas.”

Tianna didn’t speak much. Like her 10-year-old twin sister, Gianna, she lives with multiple disabilities. Both of them are legally blind, Gianna is autistic and Tianna has selective mutism. Getting a word out of her could be difficult. She certainly never spoke to strangers, and sometimes, I worried, she wouldn’t even tell me what was on her mind. That’s why I had to pay attention to this dog request.

“But we already have four dogs,” I said. A couple of years back, the girls’ neurologist had suggested that a dog might help them with their communication skills and give them someone to bond with. We’d started out small with Skater, a mini fox terrier and Chihuahua mix, and the menagerie had grown from there to include two more Chihuahuas and a 100-pound pit bull named Chaos.

That name proved accurate. Our household was usually in a chaos of water bowls, food dishes, leashes, crates, collars, treats, chew toys and balls. We had covers on all the furniture, paw prints were everywhere and nearly every unprotected surface had tooth marks. But the doctor was right. It was worth it. The dogs drew the girls out, gave them added responsibilities, received their hugs and leaped to their call. Somehow everybody got along. But could we take on another?

“I want a dog that’s like me,” Tianna continued. “One that’s differently abled.”

“Me too,” Gianna chimed in. “For Christmas.”

“I have to walk with a cane at school and everybody looks at me,” Tianna said. “I want a dog who understands what it’s like to be different.”