Maria has a half dozen colorful “mystery snails” in our fish tank. Of course, she loves them, names them, and spends some time each evening sitting and watching them, photograph them, and, when possible, take some videos.

She has come to love her snails, as she loves almost all living things except flies. (Is there anyone who lives flies?).

The mystery snails are big snails and fun to watch. They do have one odd quirk though, when they want to lay eggs, they climb to the top of the tank and sometimes climb right out and over the top.

We lost a couple that way before realizing what was happening; we found their dried-out shells on the floor.

A couple of weeks ago, Zinnia came up to me, wagging her tail and looking proud of herself, and she climbed right up on my lap – she is a big girl – and dropped Socrates, one of Maria’s snails, right onto my lap. The snail must have climbed out of the tank and fallen on the floor out of sight.

The snails can last a day or so but then dry out and die. I was surprised that Zinnia brought the snail to me, she rarely brings things like that to me, and she never climbs up onto my lap. I put Socrates back in the tank, and she was fine.

Last week, Zinnia brought me another snail, a smaller one, and dropped it on my knee; she kept a close eye on the snail and seemed once again very pleased. Being dense, I still didn’t quite get it.

I thanked her and praised her, and she seemed proud.

This morning, I was sitting on a footstool, putting my socks on, and I saw Zinnie investigating something under the table where the tank rests. Her tail started going – retrievers do that when they retrieve something thrown – and then she turned and came trotting proudly over to me.

Over the past weeks, I see her staring at the tank sometimes, and sniffing all around.

This time, she dropped Blue – one of the largest of the mystery snails and one we saw climbing up the side of the tank – right at my feet; she seemed very happy with herself.

Blue was wet with dog drool, and when I put her in the tank, she started moving; she was already.

“Maria,” I shouted. “I think Zinnia is deliberately saving the snails and bring them to me.”

She brought them to me with some urgency, and while I never heard of this kind of behavior from a dog, it just seemed clear to me that she was checking under the tank every day now and retrieving the snails, rather than playing with them, eating them or just leaving them.

I think I have a snail rescue dog. It seems strange to me, and it might seem strange to you, but Zinnia is the sweetest of creatures.

There was a boy at Bishop Maginn High School last week who was crying,  his mother was very sick, and Zinnia came into the classroom, picked him out of the class, and went right to him, putting her head on his kneed and licking his hand.

Maria showered Zinnia with praise and gratitude for saving her snails.

She has this sweet, sweet instinct about her; she senses trouble or unhappiness.

So far, she’s saved three snails (we’re blocking the top of the tank, but they are wily and might still slip out), and I’m sure I have a Snail-Saving dog.