This is my little dog Banana.
He may actually be a large rat instead of a small dog… we’ve never been entirely sure.
One lazy Saturday afternoon a tiny matted white mass followed me through the automatic doors into Walgreens where I was going to rent a movie. He proceeded to trot his dirty little self around the store to the surprise/horror of the employees and upon seeing that nobody else was going to help him I picked him up to my husband’s surprise/horror (mostly horror… he knows me well enough not to really be surprised).
After going through every possible option (he didn’t get away from a family in the parking lot, he didn’t get out of the vet’s office next door, he didn’t have a microchip and nobody was looking for him) I did what any rational person would do (because in the spirit of this story we’re pretending I’m a rational person) and decided to take him to a shelter but every shelter in the valley (and there are about a bazillion) was quick to inform me that we were not the only neighborhood full of the pets that got abandoned when people get foreclosured on and that they were full and couldn’t take any dogs… but I could call animal control. (We all know what happens to smelly old dogs at animal control.)
So I brought him home and swore I would find someone to adopt that scraggly thing. This was more than two years ago.
And so now we have a homeless man. Banana, the most ancient of all the ancient dogs, is mostly blind and deaf, severely arthritic and hopelessly senile… a truly ancient old man. One ear sticks straight up, the other flops around like a flaccid youknowwhat, one eye is substantially larger than the other, and something went wrong with his vocal cords long ago so he can no longer bark but only make a high pitched whiney cat-like sound. But he loves to sit on my lap, loves to cuddle, and adores eating the crusts off my cinnamon toast for me in the morning.
I love that little crusty creature something fierce… nobody else does but I do. And he loves me right back.
We have two dogs, Daisy and Barney, and we also have a little old homeless man. He’s like the grandpa that you wish you could put in a retirement home but you can’t afford to so instead he spends the day wandering aimlessly around your house trying to remember where he is and who you are and all you can do is love him regardless and cross your fingers that he doesn’t go to the bathroom on the floor.