It was about seven years ago. They were living on the streets underneath a busy highway overpass. That’s where I met them for the first time. I drove back and forth several times until I could get their attention and then I pulled over and blocked traffic as I jumped out to talk with them. There was just something in that moment. That single moment.

Seven years ago The Pongo Fund was still just me working out of the back of my car. It was my way to help.

The man said his name was Ken and his dog’s name was Taken. She was just a little one back then. They were homeless.

Both were courteous but neither was trusting. They’d been on the streets long enough to know that there were no guarantees and that promises were frequently broken.

But two things jumped out at me.

Ken said that in terms of the broken promises he knew it was not fair to blame others. He said he’d made plenty of bad decisions in his life and those bad decisions were part of the reason his life was playing out as it was.

He knew that some of those broken promises he referred too were the very promises he himself had not kept. And here he was telling me, a complete stranger, that he knew he needed to do better and he was trying.

The second thing that got my attention was the dog’s name: Taken. That really was her name. But why? So I asked.

And with a beaming smile on his face Ken said that was easy. He said she was taken. That she belonged to him and he belonged to her. They were family.

And that’s why he was working hard to do better. For her.

For Taken.

At that moment they were both hungry. But Ken was only interested in my dog food and treats. Because he said Taken comes first. She always comes first.

But before he let me give Taken even one kibble he wanted to know what was in the food. I told him the ingredients and he asked a lot of questions. He had more questions and more concern than some of the savviest dog people I know. So I asked him why.

And he began his story of how much Taken meant to him. And that he knew her whole life depended on him. He said he made a commitment to her the day they met and he would not let her down.

As he spoke so gently about her, I could tell that his own life depended on her too. Just as hers did on him. And with every word he spoke to me her eyes were glued to him.

After that I ran into Ken and Taken occasionally. Most of the time Taken was riding in the shopping cart that Ken pushed. Even though she was 80 pounds and I knew that it was a lot of work to get her in that cart. But Ken said she would get tired and he didn’t want to leave her behind. So together they rolled.

On cold days she was well blanketed. And on warm days she had a shade canopy and lots of cool water close at hand. Ken did not have the same luxuries. But he didn’t care. Because Taken was his girl and taking extra great care of her was all that mattered.

During one of our conversations Ken said there was a chance he might need someone to look after Taken. Just for a short while. Did I know anyone?

And from that moment on Ken had my business card in his pocket and knew he could call me at any time.

Ken came to The Pongo Fund Pet Food Bank when we opened in 2009. And everyone there fell in love with both of them. Taken, the big, beautiful, sweet and gentle girl sitting on her Dad’s lap. And Ken, the soft-spoken and patient man that greeted everyone with a smile.

They returned as often as necessary but never too many times in a row. When I asked Ken why they were not there more often he said that he knew there were people worse off than they were. And he did not want to take too much dog food if another dog needed it more.

True to his word Ken really did turn his life around. And he and Taken moved from the streets to living in a small apartment several floors above the very streets they used to sleep on.

Life was not perfect. But perfect was not what they sought. They had food. They had shelter. They had each other.

But then a few weeks ago Ken called. He started his call by apologizing for bothering me but said he had run out of dog food and needed some help. I could hear the concern in his vocie.

He explained that Taken had developed some serious health issues and could no longer walk. He had spent almost all his money on veterinary care but she was still struggling to stand.

Her back legs would no longer support her.

So he took his last funds and bought Taken a large baby stroller so he could still take her outside as much as possible. He said it was a really nice baby buggy because he wanted to be sure she was comfortable.

He laughed as he said it, knowing how funny the story may sound. But I knew his laughter was covering his fear. He was so worried about his girl and he did not know what to do.

He came to The Pongo Fund for food that day. He arrived an hour before our scheduled time. He is that kind of person.

He came alone. The single figure jumped out at me. A rare occasion when I would not see Taken by his side. And I stopped breathing for a moment when he walked in the door alone.

We talked and there was no question that Ken was doing all he could do. But more help was needed. And Ken would never ask. But Taken could not walk and he was scared. Most of all, he was scared that he was letting her down.

I told him about Scooby and his hydrotherapy. I shared lots of Scooby stories and showed him a photo of Scooby on the treadmill. We laughed about dogs on underwater treadmills. And then I asked him if he would like Taken to see Kristin, Scooby’s excellent physical therapist.

He answered quickly and said he could not afford it.

He had no money even for food right then. He was broke. I told him it did not matter. Because the cost was not part of the conversation. All I was concerned about was helping her get better. And I knew that Kristin was the best first step.

So I told him I would pay for Taken’s evaluation. And he said nothing. He looked to the side. Away from me. I could tell he did not know what to say.

This proud man that spent so many years living on the streets to make amends for the wrongs he had committed sat frozen. He struggled in that moment. I know that he felt too proud to accept the help. That he did not deserve it. So I told him that Taken deserved it. And that she would do it for him.

But he said that even if he said yes, he would want to pay me back. And what if she needs more visits, he asked? Already worried even more because he knew he could not afford it.

And I did my best in that single moment of time to touch the soul of this kind and sensitive man that did not know what to do. I asked him to let us take one step at a time. But to please let us take those steps together.

Because this dog that he loved needed our help. And I knew that by helping her, we were helping him too. They both needed us.

Because losing one would likely mean losing both.

One hour from now on this Friday, April 17th, 2015, Pongo Volunteer Extraordinaire Amy M. will drive Ken and Taken to meet Scooby’s therapist Kristin. They will have a full session, just like Scooby gets.

Because this appointment they will have today, on this day known as French Fry Friday, is actually Scooby’s appointment. And he has given it up so Taken can get the help she needs.

Don’t worry. Scooby will still have his fries.

But more importantly is that Taken will take the first steps toward learning to walk again.

Maybe she’ll even get some fries too.

I’ll keep you posted.

Being there for Ken and Taken.

And this is why we Pongo.

Sit. Stay. Eat. Live. thepongofund.org