Admittedly, the house had been quiet since my husband died, but I didn’t want a dog. I had enough responsibilities as an elementary school principal. Besides, no dog could ever replace Kash, my childhood best friend.
I only went with my friend Dee to the animal shelter for pet adoption day because when she gets an idea she’s like, well, a dog with a bone. I figured she’d drop it once she saw I had no interest.
But one dog took an interest in me. He came right up and looked at me plaintively, imploringly. Some sort of cattle-dog mix, with reddish-brown fur and a white stripe that ran from the back of his head down to his salt-and-pepper muzzle. I gave him a pat and shooed him away.
He didn’t go. When I tried to walk away, he followed, as if he was herding me. “I guess your dog found you,” Dee laughed.
“Not hardly,” I said. “He’s not for me.”
No dog ever would be after Kash. He was a mixed breed, the kind we called a Heinz 57 variety back in Opp, Alabama. Those were lean times and my parents worked long hours.
I would have been lonely without Kash. He watched me jump rope, listened as I read from my schoolbooks and sat with me by the dirt road, waiting for my folks to come home. He was smart, affectionate and made me laugh. It devastated me when he died. I vowed never to get another dog.
This mutt, though…no amount of coaxing could pry him from my side. He even barked at other dogs, keeping them away. “Come on, Doris, you can’t say no,” Dee begged.
“Try him for the weekend,” the shelter worker said. “Bring him back Monday if things don’t work out.”
“Okay,” I said to the persistent dog. “You get a weekend. No more.”
The dog kept me company as I did my chores. I laughed, watching him surge through the piles of autumn leaves on a walk around the neighborhood. That first night he curled up by my side. And all at once I felt like we were a pair, like the house wasn’t so empty anymore.
On Monday, I returned to the shelter—to finalize the adoption.
“Have you named him yet?” the worker asked. I admitted I hadn’t.
“Well, if you’re interested,” she said, “his last owner called him Kash.”
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