“D.A. can’t take Gracie anywhere without people saying, ‘Oh, what a pretty dog,” says Elizabeth Silbert, 90.

Her daughter D.A. Silbert –– “it stands for Dorothy Ann, but no one calls me that” –– was with her father at the hospital often in the weeks before he died in December 2003. “One day, out of the clear blue he looked at me and said, ‘D.A., you need to get a dog.’ ”

The Rev. William G. Silbert, who died at age 91, had been a Presbyterian minister, with a long stint at the First Presbyterian Church of Providence. “It stayed in my heart, the way he said it,” says D.A. “When Daddy said something, it was never just fluff. It was profound.”

D.A., 62, a retired second-grade teacher in Cranston, who had always lived with her parents, kept thinking about her father’s words. “My sister-in-law’s sister had a springer spaniel that was going to have pups.

“Mother was very open, but there was my concern for her frail health.” D.A. feared that an energetic puppy could knock her over. “So we started praying about it.” They decided to “put out a fleece” –– ask God for a sign: If the runt of the litter was a brown-and-white female, then they would know that God wanted them to have it.

Several weeks later, her nephew called. “He said, ‘It’s a girl, the runt of the litter and she’s liver and white. I’m going to send you a picture so that you can start thinking of names.’

“My dad always preached God’s grace and God’s mercy, and since he was the inspiration for this, my mother and I decided on Mercy Grace.” On Sept. 11, 2005, the dog now called Gracie by D.A. and her mother came to reside with them in Lincoln.

“The thing that’s so nice about Gracie is that she’s a character. She does things that make us laugh. Mother, tell the story about the communion bread.”

“She is a stitch!” says Elizabeth. “I was ill and our minister came to give me communion at home. He put out his little table with a brass plate for the bread and a little container for the juice. While he’s busy setting up, Gracie’s watching every move. The minister said, ‘We’re ready,’ and Gracie jumped in front of him and ate the communion bread, every lick of it.”

“She stole cold cuts off the plate when we had guests for lunch a few weeks ago. And at Christmas, she ate an entire sausage roll as we were greeting people. She once took a roast off the counter. She always goes to places to eat it where we can’t get her, like under my mother’s bed.”

“That’s where the roast ended up,” says Elizabeth. “She’s cagey. Remember the fish?”

“I was fixing dinner, turned to get something from the other counter, and when I turned back, she had eaten the raw fish.”

“I said, ‘We can’t afford a dog that eats sushi!’ ” says Elizabeth.

“The first Christmas she was with us she ate all of my ornaments off the tree,” says D.A. “I had to put a fence around the tree.

“She is so devoted, so faithful. There’s a very special bond between Gracie and my mother. She likes to hop on the bed and take naps with her.”

“I hand out tidbits from my plate so that makes the bond very strong,” says Elizabeth.

“This 40-pound guardian angel has filled a huge void that we’ve had since Daddy went to heaven.

“All of Daddy’s favorite chairs in the house became Gracie’s favorite chairs. I feel like Daddy is smiling down on the whole situation. I think he was roaring with laughter with the communion bread.

“I say to Mother, ‘How did we ever live without Gracie?’ but she did come at just the right time. She was God’s provision. Daddy was inspired by the Lord to say what he did about getting a dog.”

“My doctor thinks getting Gracie was a very good idea,” says Elizabeth. “Better than any medicine he could ever prescribe.”

cgrosch@projo.com