He twitched his skinny tail nervously as I opened the front door. He looked up at me with hazy brown eyes that pleaded for mercy. I took a step forward and he backed away. With a quiet little yelp he looked back out at the busy weekday traffic. I feared he would bolt so I spoke to him softly.

            “Easy boy, I won’t hurt you.”

            He stumbled as he returned his gaze to me. His poor legs were weak from age and malnutrition. My heart ached for this helpless old soul who had stumbled onto my porch.

            “Come in,” I heard myself say.

            He flipped his tail again and slowly clopped his way into my home. He sat down next to the kitchen sink patiently waiting as I filled a bowl with water and set it down in front of him. He lapped it up appreciatively as I rummaged through the fridge for something he could eat. I retrieved the chicken left over from dinner, chopped it up a bit and gave it to him. He gobbled it up as if he hadn’t had a bite in weeks.

            Sitting on the cool linoleum next to him, I watched as he savored every last bite and then lapped up the rest of his water. He looked at me bashfully and I smiled at him. Carefully reaching out my hand I patted him on the head. He wagged his tail more excitedly now and inched his way towards me. He lay down on the floor and placed his head on my knee. His eyes showed me that I had gained his trust, his friendship and his love.

            I couldn’t help but wonder about the life he had before. Where was he from? Had he ever had a real home?

            “You have a home now,” I told him. “You can stay here with me.”

            He licked my hand as if to accept the offer. With a lot of love, care, and affection, that skinny, little old homeless dog became a healthy, happy companion.