'How one Facebook message changed my life forever'

WHILE still grappling with the death of her beloved pug last week, Isabelle Oderberg found a message on Facebook that would changed her life forever.

The resemblance ... uncanny!

IN FACEBOOK'S private messaging function, in addition to your inbox, there's also an 'other' folder, where Facebook messages are re-routed when the almighty Facebook considers them to be spam, usually because you're not Facebook friends with whoever sent you the message.

Last week, I accidentally clicked on that 'other messages' folder and what I found changed my life forever. But let me start at the beginning.

Four and a half weeks ago, I lost the love of my life - my rescue pug Bronson. My overwhelming grief led me to write about his story and what we meant to each other, in the hope that it might lead to one or two people considering getting a pet to reconsider going to a breeder or pet shop.

I was completely overwhelmed by the reaction - the piece had more than 1600 Facebook recommendations - especially through rescue groups and that, I thought, was that, as I got on with digesting my misery.

Unbeknown to me, a number of Facebookers had been messaging me to offer comfort and friendship as I dealt with the crippling loss of losing my best friend, but the messages were being re-routed to the 'other messages' folder.

On the four-week anniversary of Bronson's passing, I accidentally clicked on the link to the folder and found a raft of messages. Buried in those messages was one from a beautiful girl called Cherie*.

Hi Isabelle,

I know this is random but I just read your beautiful article on Bronson and have sat hear crying for the last half an hour.

I don't know if this is a coincidence but when I was 12 years old I had owned a pug called Bronsan. He was the most loving and playful pug you can ever imagine.

At one period of time we went on a family holiday and left Bronsan with my mum's cousin who owned a dog hotel. Unfortunately while playing Bronsan hurt his eye on a fence and at that point his eye got so infected so he had to remove it.

We loved Bronsan but unfortunately under a few circumstances including changing of house we had to give Bronsan away. The best alternative at the time was giving Bronsan to my mum's cousin to look after at the puppy hotel a few months later a man really loved Bronsan and wanted him so my mum's cousin gave him to him.

Now, I'm not too sure if this is a really big coincidence but if this is the same Bronsan I want you to know that he originally came from a loving family who absolutely adored him and I am beyond shattered that anything may have happened to him.

If you like I can send you some photos of Bronsan when he was young.

Thanks for your time,

Cherie

Every hair on my body stood on end, but I realised that the chances of this being my Bronson were very slim, even though much of what she said made sense, in terms of what I already knew about Bronson.

We started messaging backwards and forwards and as soon as she had time, Cherie scanned five photos of her puppy Bronsan (she spelt his name slightly different) and sent them through.

When I opened the pictures, I couldn't breathe, because I knew immediately that I was looking at my baby. For the first time … as a baby and with two perfect eyes!

###

The resemblance ... uncanny!

But unwilling to be swept away on a tide of hope, I also did a more forensic check (his fur patterns match exactly - especially the strange and distinctive colouring on his tail) and confirmed it beyond my own instinct.

A barrage of questions came tumbling out of me: Where did he come from? Why did you give him up? How old was he? Why was he called Bronsan? How did he lose his eye?

And with infinite patience and kindness, Cherie answered every single one of my questions.

They called him Bronsan after Cherie's dad's favourite actor, Charles Bronson, but he could just as easily have been called Oscar, which was the other name in contention.

Bronsan was bought for Cherie from a breeder for her 10th birthday. It was a surprise. B's best friend was Cherie's uncle's pug called Brutus.

At one time in his life they attempted to use him as a breeding dog, but Bronsan was always more interested in Brutus.

Bronsan was given to a puppy hotel run by a family member when Cherie's family moved to rental accommodation that didn't allow pets.

He lost his eye when he was playing at the puppy hotel and hurt his eye on a fence. The wound became infected and led to the eye being removed.

Bronson, back when he was just a wee pup.

From there he was taken by a man who regularly kept his dogs at the puppy hotel - I know that Bronson was surrendered to Pug Rescue by a single man.

But the most important thing that Cherie gave me, was Bronson's age.

For the last few weeks I've carried so much guilt: Could I have fought harder? Could I have treated the tumours that were causing his seizures? Did I give up too soon?

Cherie was given Bronson when she was 10. At five left her care. And five years later he was adopted by me, and I must say, in a terrible state, and I owned him for another five years.

When I realised that Bronson had died, in my arms and pain-free at a stately 15 years of age (pugs rarely live longer), I felt all remaining guilt float away like a helium balloon.

When I wrote about Bronson a month ago, I said that it wasn't me that saved Bronson, it was Bronson that saved me.

I don't know if you believe in miracles, but some cosmic or karmic force brought Cherie and I together so that Cherie could know that Bronson eventually ended up in the best possible home and I could know that letting him go when I did was right and fair.

"When I read that he'd gone to you and had found happiness I was much more relieved but then I blamed myself for having to give him up," Cherie said to me as I sobbed on the phone. "Speaking to you I realise it was meant to be and it was the most amazing thing that could have happened for him. I'm so happy that he ended up with someone who loved him as much as we did, because we really did love him."

And I ended the conversation with this: "I'm so sorry he had to leave you Cherie, but he had to, so he could find me."

* Names have been changed for the purpose of this article.

Continue the conversation via Twitter @yodaberg