I always hoped I’d see him. You’ve seen him too, he’s everywhere; every city, every corner. Someone just like him hoping they will end the day with a little more than they started. More hope. More love. For him, he also hoped for more dog food. And that’s why, every time I saw him, his dog was next to him. Most often curled up tight on a bed they brought with them in a wagon, along with a water dish and food bowl. And that was how they rolled. This dog was a soft-jowled pit bull, with the kind of face that made me park my car and walk over to say hello the first time I saw them. I just had to pet this dog. And he was everything I knew he would be. Soft. Sweet. He kissed like he meant it. He wasn’t young but he wasn’t old, he just was who he was. They’d been homeless for so long they took it in stride. Thankfully during the worst weather they’d find respite with some folks they knew. But still, they were homeless.

I helped as I could; bringing food as needed for both of them or whatever else I sensed they needed. I knew others helped them too. He’d also mentioned having a veterinarian for his dog, a vet who he paid, and I believed him because this dog looked great. Even when he struggled to make that payment he still did so, because that’s how he grew up. Helping others, but never asking for help for himself. And it made sense, because this man never asked me for anything. Even when I asked him what he needed, he said that I already knew, telling me to help others and if there was something left, he would welcome it. He broke it down so simply, like a human fortune cookie.

I saw them when I saw them, not every day by any means, just every couple of months, but whenever it was, that dog was always there. When he uncurled himself from his nap to say hello, he made me feel extra important. Because watching him as he slept, I knew he was interrupting a great dream just for me. And I bet he interrupted his dreams many times each day for lots of others, too. He was that special of a dog friend.

It caught my attention the last time I saw him, because his dog friend was not there. And my heart sank. Because I knew what it meant, but I needed to ask anyway. The same way people still ask me about Scooby, not knowing he has crossed the Rainbow Bridge, but maybe they kind of know in their heart that he did. But they ask, because they hope and they love. So I asked how this pit bull kisser was, ready for the answer I already knew. And he said “oh, he’s doing great, I decided to let him stay at home today and catch up on his sleep.” And I about fell over, because so many parts of that sentence weren’t what I expected.

A phone call led to another phone call and to another, and they had found an apartment. It was small, but it was home. And there was a door and windows and a roof and all the basic comforts that most of us take for granted. And now they had them too. I could feel my eyes get watery even though I told them not to. This man, his ship had come in, and he could not be happier. Nor could he be more proud. Because this man did not seek assistance from the system, he paid his way even when he could have received help. He had some limited savings, he collected cans and bottles, he did odd jobs, and he said he did anything respectable for a little extra. So this little place, it was really theirs. And he just beamed when he told me about it.

We ended the same way we always did, with me asking what I could do to help. And once again he told me to help others first. Because he had everything he needed. In moments like this one, I am reminded that even with little, he might have more than I have. And that’s why each time I stop to say hello, I know I’ll walk away better for it.

Being a helper. And this is why we Pongo.
Sit. Stay. Eat. Live. thepongofund.org

(dog in photo is a dog The Pongo Fund helps, but not the dog mentioned in story)