By Link Johnson
The Scene staff
A good friend is hard to find. But sometimes a good friend finds you.
That’s what happened the day before last Thanksgiving, when I got my Jack Russell terrier, “Puppy.”
It started with an inhumane act. I was in my back room painting and talking to my girlfriend. I couldn’t help but notice a woman behaving strangely in the alley behind the apartment.
I continued with my conversation but also kept watching the woman. She had a bulge underneath her robe. She walked quickly to a dumpster and opened the top. A furry white face stuck out from under her arm.
I froze in horror at what I thought was going to take place. My girlfriend’s voice faded as I zeroed in on the woman. She threw a piece of paper or napkin into the dumpster, placed the dog on the ground and proceeded to walk away.
At first, the scene was confusing. Then it became clear that the woman was attempting to abandon this animal.
But the dog wasn’t going for it, and neither was I.
The woman took only a couple of steps before the dog was on her heels. She tried to throw him off the trail and get out of Dodge quickly.
I found myself completely immersed in the scene. It was somewhat comical how the woman’s attempts to abandon the dog were futile. It almost seemed like he thought she was playing with him.
That’s what finally broke me. I could see that this dog had character. So I yelled down to the woman from the window, “Hey, are you trying to get rid of him?”
Her exhausted face looked up with a sigh of relief. “Yes,” she said. “Wait there, I’ll be down!” I called back.
My girlfriend and I went down to examine the scrawny little thing. He instantly jumped into my arms and became my buddy.
I originally named him “Zatara” from the movie “The Count of Monte Cristo.” It means “drifted wood,” so it seemed appropriate in light of the way I found him. But now he responds to “Puppy.”
I have certifications in dog training, but I like him just how he is.
When nobody is home, he takes the insoles out of our shoes and runs circles on the bed. But other than acting like a kid without parental supervision, he’s a great dog.
When I come home, he’s right at my feet, trying to jump up on me. Before I do homework, I have to spend about 20 minutes with him, throwing the ball or rolling on the the floor.
I used to raise pit bulls, and I never cared for small dogs. But now I think I have a one that fits my character.
I don’t care if people think he looks like a little punk dog. That’s my best friend. I was there when humans gave up on him, so I feel like he brings out the best in me.