She shuffle walked over to my car, I had just finished delivering dog and cat food to one of the local low-income housing projects. Her shoes were a mess, more like bits of shoes than shoes. That’s likely why she shuffled; if she took too big a step they’d fall off. Her appearance said there were many tough days in her past. But she had a smile so big it wrapped around her face twice. She said she needed dog food. I asked what kind of dog she had and she held her hands in front of her about a loaf of bread length apart and said a little dog. She kept smiling, even when she talked, and when she talked and smiled together I pretty much melted. I asked how old her dog was and she said just a puppy. I asked a few more questions as she continued to smile. She wanted 20 kibble. Why 20? Because that’s how much he eats.

Another woman walked over and touched the shuffling woman softly on the shoulder, suggesting they go back inside. Apparently they lived in one of the buildings that dot every community but oftentimes go unnoticed because we don’t want to be reminded that people live in such conditions. A lot of these forgotten folks suffer some degree of mental illness, whatever that means.

I said we were talking about how much food she needed for her dog, and now the second woman smiled too. She politely and quietly said that the shuffle woman’s dog had died many years earlier, but every now and then she would talk to him like he was still there. This young pup visited her now and then, bringing love and comfort and taking her back to a time when things were good.

I counted 20 kibble, one at a time, like they do on a game show when you win money and they count it out right in front of you. It’s the same amount of money as if they just handed it to you all at once, but so much more exciting when it comes one at a time. I placed the 20 kibble in a small bag, added our official Pongo label like we always do, and handed it to her. She said thank you, but the look in her eyes told me she was somewhere else.

I asked if her dog had a collar and she said no. I had some really small collars in bright neon colors with little studs and stones and when I showed her she touched each one gently as if she were petting a puppy. The second woman was smiling too. They left together to walk back to their building, the kind of place with an older TV in the lobby and payphone on the wall and a sometimes cranky manager watching everyone come and go thru a glass window.

I hope he saw the new dog collar she had for her puppy.

In a few hours The Pongo Fund Pet Food Bank will open our doors to help all in need. The greatest group of volunteers in the world will be there to greet everyone with a smile. And if you tell them you need 20 kibble, they’ll be happy to get you 20 kibble.

Being a helper.

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

***The Pongo Fund is Oregon’s Pet Food Bank. Because hungry people have hungry pets. Our award winning and volunteer driven group helps more animals than any other group in Oregon by providing high quality food and vital veterinary care for the family pets of anyone in honest need, keeping them safe, healthy and out of the shelters. 90,000 animals helped; 9,000,000 healthy meals provided. We would be honored if you SHARE this post so that others will also know of our good work***