All I had to do was clean up the cat litter and litter bags. That’s all. Out and in. However, as I pulled into the Walmart car park, I noticed a large, ungroomed dog sitting near the cart, perhaps waiting for someone who never returned.
He didn’t yelp, remained motionless, watching each car as if it were the only one.
Holding out my arms, I slowly approached him. He didn’t recoil, just raised tired, unsure eyes to me. He clung to me with his whole body, as if he’d been holding on all day and was only now letting go when I knelt down to see if he was tagged.
And then he hugged my leg.
I wasn’t kidding at all. His chin rested on my knee and one paw wrapped around my shin, and it seemed like in that instant he made a decision, “You. You’re safe.”
Animal control said they had been contacted earlier in the morning. A motorist was seen dropping him off at the edge of the property and driving away. No chip, no collar. Nothing.
They promised to pick him up, assess him and start the procedure. However, he freaked out when they tried to take him away. After planting himself in his seat, he immediately looked back at me.
I couldn’t believe I was ready to get a dog. However, he stood there, straddling my leg like I was his only remaining property. I couldn’t just walk away.
‘What happens if no one takes him?’ – I asked the officer a direct question.
The officer paused, shifting his gaze from the dog to me. ‘If he is not adopted within 72 hours, he may be put to death.’ Those words were like a punch to the gut. This wasn’t just a minor annoyance; after what he’d been through, he had every reason to be afraid of people, but he trusted me enough to hold onto my leg.
I mouthed, ‘Can I take him home?’ without thinking about it. It was spontaneous and careless, just the sort of thing I usually avoided. In theory, pets were allowed in my house, but I had no plans to get one anytime soon. I couldn’t refuse him, however, because he was staring at me intently.
The officer blinked, clearly taken aback by my unexpected choice. “Are you sure? He will require attention, tolerance, and perhaps even training. Are you ready for that?
I looked at him again. His eyes, those deep, soulful pools of trust, met mine as his tail thumped weakly on the pavement. ‘Yes,’ I answered quietly. ‘I think so.’
With the seventy-pound hound stretched out in the passenger seat and drooling on the upholstery, I drove home. On the way, I named him Rufus. It seemed like a fitting name – uncomplicated, reliable, strong, like himself.
I’ve never had an easier roommate than Rufus. Yes, he had his struggles. He once ate an entire loaf of bread off the counter, knocked over a lamp chasing his tail, and chewed up a pair of my trainers, which I later found out were the result of boredom. But it didn’t matter, because he also did things that warmed my heart.
Like the first time I was anxious and exhausted after work and saw him waiting for me at the door, wagging his tail so vigorously that my whole body twitched. Or when, to let me know I wasn’t alone, he curled up next to me on the couch and put his head in my lap. Rufus gradually went from being a dog to a member of the family.
One evening we were walking around the neighbourhood as usual when Rufus suddenly stopped. He started frantically sniffing the air with his ears perked up. He ran towards the nearest alley before I could realise what had caught his attention. ‘Rufus!’ I shouted, rushing after him.
As I caught up with him, I realised why he had run away. Tears were streaming down the face of the six-year-old, who sat huddled against the wall. Already beside him, Rufus was quietly poking the boy with his nose. Snorting, the child gingerly reached up to stroke Rufus’ head. ‘It’s okay,’ I whispered quietly, kneeling down next to them. ‘What’s wrong?’
The child broke into hiccuping sobs, telling us how he’d gotten lost in the park, separated from his mother. Rufus stayed by his side, silently comforting him until we managed to find the boy’s worried mother a few blocks away. When Rufus wagged his tail to signify the successful completion of the mission, she thanked us heartily and hugged her child tightly.
A few weeks later, we encountered another twist. While browsing social media one evening, I came across a post from a nearby shelter. They were trying to find out more about Max, a golden retriever mix who had gone missing and looked a lot like Rufus. Attached to the message was a picture of Max playing ball in the backyard with his goofy smile.
My stomach rumbled. Is Rufus really Max? And is there someone looking for him if he is? Some part of me wanted to pretend I hadn’t seen that message. After all, Rufus was having a good time right now. He had a routine, a home, and a loved one. What if he was lost forever if you brought him back?