Ketch was not the last dog to follow me home. Just in January I was again out looking for work when I saw a fairly big dog that looked like a dingo browsing around in the desert. Again I felt that irressistable tug, and called it to me. It was a female dog, no collar, who was apparrently looking for some food. I called her to me and stroked her. She was perfectly healthy and just as sweet, but still a stray. Again, an animal had dumped and then crossed my path. I jogged back home and grabbed some food and water. When I got back to the desert, I looked for her. She was gone. I shrugged and put in my applications.
No more than half an hour after I got home, the dog showed up on the doorstep. I fed and watered her and tried not to think of what would happen when Dad came home. As expected, he was mad and chewed me out for doing this again. He threatened to throw out the bag of dog food in the garage so I couldn't feed any more strays. I only half-listened, angry. Until she showed up on the doorstep, I had done nothing but pet her. Since when is loving an animal a crime? Dad did the expected; he called Animal Control.
An intense fury I had not felt since Annie left boiled up in me. I actually wanted to kill myself came over me when I heard Dad telling them where we were. I stifled it and, once Dad was taking his shower, marched out to the garage and then dumped the bag of food myself. The dog followed my happily around, wagging her tail. Finally I could take it no longer and pushed her away. "Go away," I told her. "Go on. You can't stay here."
The dog, not understanding, just sat there and wagged her tail.
I felt like something was tearing my heart out. I choked on my tears and raised my voice. "Go...go...GOOOOOOO!" I screamed at the top of my lungs. "GET OUT OF HERE! Don't you get it?!?!? LEAVE!" I collapsed into heavy sobs. The dog scurried away in fear, looking back at me in confusion. "Please go..." Mom came out, eyes wide with alarm, and ordered me back inside. "I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry," I began mumbling a mile a minute. Once we were in, Mom looked at me with a mixture of disappointment and worry.
"What are we going to have to do, put you in a mental facility?!"she asked. She honestly thought I was going crazy. I thought it too, for a minute.
"Go ahead!" I cried. "I don't care."
Mom talked quietly to me. I don't remember all of what she said, but when she was done, all I could feel was sadness. I went back to my room and sobbed. Later, I went out with my dad to wait for the animal control truck. I told Dad that my outburst was a years' worth of hurt finally being let out. He explained to me that being taken to the Shelter would be better for her, that she'd have a chance, and food and water. He said that even if she got put to sleep, it was better tha being hit by a car and suffering. I knew he was right...partly. When the truck did come I loaded the dog into it myself. The truck reeked of urine and fear. It made me sick. I was able to sleep that night, but woke up the next morning feeling empty.
I regret everything about that day now...except for showing that dog the only kindness she may ever have known. I'll never regret that. I pray that someone saw that beautiful animal and gave her another chance. The damage to me, however, is done. I will never go back to that animal shelter as long as I live. I can't. The sights, the smells, the memories...they're just too much to handle. Even when an Animal Control truck drives by, I can't look at it without scowling. I may be overreactive. I don't know.
What I do know is that having a dog is no longer just a luxury for me. It's a necessity. I don't know why, but I need a dog.
And somewhere out there, a dog needs me, too. What a happy day it will be when we finally find each other. Until then, all I can do is work and wait.
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Waiting for my fur-baby 
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