The animal shelter was full. But since I’m a volunteer, I can “foster” animals. This means I take home the ones who are too scared or too old to be adopted.
That’s when I saw Barnaby.
He was an old dog, about 10 or 11. His family had given him up. He just sat in the back of his cage, shaking. He wouldn’t look at anyone. He had given up hope.
I took him home.
My neighbor, Frank, was on his porch. He’s 84 and his wife of 60 years died last winter. He’s always alone, and his house is always quiet. He just sits and watches cars.
I carried Barnaby over to say hello.
“Old fella, isn’t he?” Frank said in a soft voice.
“He’s had a hard time,” I said. “He needs a friend.”
I put Barnaby down on the porch.
This little dog, who had barely moved in two days, walked right over to Frank. He sniffed his leg, and then… he did something that almost made me cry. He licked Frank’s hand.
Frank let out a real, deep laugh. It was the first time I’d heard him laugh in months. He bent down and started scratching Barnaby’s ears. “Well, hello there,” he whispered. “You’ve had a hard time, too, haven’t you?”
I was supposed to be Barnaby’s foster home.
But that was three weeks ago. Barnaby lives with Frank now. I just bring them dog food every Tuesday.
When I visited today, Frank’s house wasn’t quiet. The TV was on, and Frank was talking. “And then… we’re going to watch the game, aren’t we boy?”
Barnaby was asleep on his lap.
They were two old souls who both felt left behind. They found each other on that porch.
I don’t know who rescued whom…