Doggy days

Here we are, walking down this same road that we have been down plenty of times. The flowers are in full bloom, the skies are the most perfect shade of blue. The only problem is that we must change course because the forecast calls for rain. That always happens on our best walks. You know, those walks where the world seems at perfect peace and you believe that just maybe those days will last forever? It was not always like this though. I remember the first time that I met this poor little guy. Here is that story.

I was in high school when I found him. It was a Tuesday. The weather was perfect, much like on those perfect walk days. I did not go to school that day because I was not feeling well. My mom, worried about leaving my rebellious teenage self at home, told me that I was going to work with her. She worked at a restaurant known for its tiny, square-shaped burgers. I sat in the lobby, working on schoolwork, and minding my own business.

After half of the day had passed, this poor dog walked up looking for something to eat. Luckily, somebody came with him and bought him something. My mom had seen this dog before and was friendly to him, checking on him periodically. The dog came and sat right next to where I was and tried talking to me. Of course, I did not understand a word he said, but he was so cute. I pretended to talk back for about an hour until he decided it was time to go. I guess me paying him attention kept him there a little longer than usual. Thinking that I would never see him again, I told him to stay out of trouble and went back to my lesson.

The day passed and weeks went by, without a thought of this little guy. One day, he popped up at our house unexpectedly. We guessed that he recognized my mom and followed her home since it was not that far. Come to find out, he had a place that he normally slept and ate about 2 blocks away. Much like the day I first saw him, my siblings and I would talk to and play games with him. He became a frequent visitor at our home, sometimes even staying the night. We shared our meals and time with him and soon we fell in love.

Eventually, we started questioning whether it made sense for him to be going back and forth from place to place when he spent most of the time at our house anyway. We followed him back one night to the place that he had been sleeping. It was a place that his old owner had living in. When she moved out, she left him there and paid someone to take care of him, but never visited herself.

The place was a disaster. There was trash everywhere, furniture was destroyed, and most importantly, there was nobody there that loved him. My sister and I spent days trying to clean this place up. When we got it in livable condition, it was decided that I would move in (with permission of his previous caretaker) and take care of him. I was almost done with high school and was looking to move out on my own anyway. I eventually filled out all of the adoption paperwork and made it official. He was now mine.

Unfortunately, after a couple of years, he started roaming the streets again and would wind up at the house of a woman a block over. She ended up taking him in and I never saw him again after that. It broke my heart, but what are you supposed to do when your husband is a dog? Guess I should have known.