“I never knew my dad. He left before I was born. My mom did the best she could as a single mother trying to raise six of us. She didn’t speak English. She understood some of it, but she couldn’t respond. We lived outside on a dirt floor. One by one, my brothers and sisters were sent away. For some reason, I got to stay.
“Stay. There’s a word I heard a lot as a pup. I hated that word. I couldn’t do anything I wanted. One day, when I was a little older, someone left a door open and I ran away. I’d see my picture on fences and telephone poles from time to time, but I wasn’t going back there. I kept running. I think I liked chasing the red cars the best.
“I do okay. No leashes for this guy. I can get food anytime I want if I look at people just right. I stay in a barn most nights. The cows seem to be cool with it. Maybe I’ll settle down someday, but I’m in the prime of my life. You don’t stay four years old forever. I have time. I like to wander. Sometimes I wonder what would have happened if I knew where my family was, but I’m good. I’m a good boy. A good boy.”
I like your blog and sense of humor. Photos are great, too. Keep writing.
Thank you! I’m hoping to do more with the website in the future.