A dog's life.(Kevin Hughes) I was sitting on a Park Bench. The wind decided to quit howling for a bit, so my tears did not dry as fast. Nobody should be out in this weather. Heck, I wouldn’t be out in it either…except it fit my mood…despondent.

Eleven years isn’t easy to give up on. Sure we had our ups and downs, but I knew…okay, I thought- we had a good thing going. Until yesterday. I had no warning. I had no idea she was even unhappy. And I sure as hell didn’t know she had been dating my best friend for the last several months.

That coward didn’t even come with her to tell me it was over. She tried to be kind. I tried not to be unkind. She cried…a little. I didn’t cry at all. Not until today.

Today the tears fell almost as fast as the rain. I looked up and through the blur of my tears, and the rain which kept alternating between shower strength and fire hose power, I saw a bedraggled form huddled under a nearby bush.

I wiped my eyes. I could see it was a dog. A dog soaked to the bone and shivering. It was looking as sad and forlorn as I felt. It saw me looking at it. My heart broke.

It looked back at me with not quite fear, but more of a you aren’t going to hurt me too, are you?

I got up and slowly approached the cowering pooch. Out loud I said:

“Who in the heck leaves a dog out in this weather. Whoever they are, they should be forced to sit out in this crap for a long time.”

The dog was wary as I approached his huddled form under the bushes. Never once taking his eyes off of me. I got about three feet from his hiding place when he seemed to fold into himself. Too tired to run, too scared to move, too wet to hide his thinness. My heart broke again.

I was out in this crud on purpose. I have a dry safe home. This poor little guy apparently did not. I put out my hand, laying it gently a foot from his nose. I wasn’t sure if dogs could smell in heavy wet rain like this.

He looked at me with those big brown eyes…unsure what to do. Minutes went by. I moved my hand closer. More minutes went by. I moved my hand so it was almost touching him. Then we both just stayed still.

A tiny bit of pink tongue came out and caressed the tip of my finger. It withdrew and waited. I made soft encouraging sounds for a bit. The tongue darted out for a few more flicks. I kept murmuring safe sounding words. Finally, I reached over and petted its head, then lightly scratched behind its ears.

It was then that it closed its eyes and made a sound I can only describe as disbelieving hope. Like it remembered being petted with kindness but never expected to feel that again. This time my tears were for the soggy dog, and not my self pity.

It took a while. The two of us soaked in our own personal misery but then he must have made a decision. He crawled over to me and weakly climbed into my lap. His whole body was shivering. I stood up with him in my arms. He was too weak to walk.

I walked as fast as I could back to my house. The whole way telling the pooch to hang in there. In just a bit he would be safe and dry. I would take care of him. He just looked at me with those incredibly sad eyes. Eyes that seemed to say:

“I trust you. Whatever will be…will be.”

As soon as I got home, I dried him off with my towels. I put some water in a bowl. He drank that right away. I didn’t have dog food…so I took out some roast beef from the fridge. He sniffed it…then wolfed it down. All of it. That scared me. When was the last time the poor thing had eaten?

I know nothing about dogs. I never had one. I never had a pet of any kind. We were always moving around too much. But I knew somebody who did know about dogs. But she had just broken up with me last night. I had no choice. I had to call her…what was I supposed to do now with the dog?

“Hello? Are you okay?”

Her voice was so familiar yet so distant. It was clear that she wasn’t my girl anymore. But she had been for a long time…so she heard the plea in my voice. Somehow, she knew it wasn’t a plea for her and I to get back together. It was just a guy who needed help.

I explained the drenched dog in the park. I told her he was pretty dry now, and curled up on an old blanket on my couch. But what do I do now? Should I feed him some more? He wolfed down the little bit of roast beef I fed him. I was filled with questions but no answers.

She listened. Then she said:

“Don’t feed him anything more until I get there. I will call Mike and have him bring some of Spikes food (Spike was Mike’s Dog, and Mike was my former Best Friend). We will be right over. “

Fifteen minutes later, the three of us were together in a room …again. But this time there was a dog with us. My old girl got the trust of the dog right off the bat. Followed almost as quickly- the dog befriended Mike. Soon three grown adults had one goal, one object of our attention…a still too thin, shivering dog.

She made the call: “Your dog needs to be checked out by a Vet…now. We can take Mike’s car. You carry the dog in the blanket. Sit in the back seat.”

I had followed her orders for years, so I guess old habits die hard. Mike held the door for me, and she went out and held the car door open. Then we were off.

We chatted quietly in the waiting room as the Vet did her thing. All of us concerned about a creature we just met. Somehow, we all just assumed I would keep the dog. I realized at that moment…I had just made three new friends.

The dog. My old girlfriend. And my former Best friend. Somehow the dog had jostled us into a new form of friendship. The old ties were gone, the new ones built around caring for someone outside ourselves…a dog.

The Vet came out and told us the dog was suffering from hypothermia, mild Malnutrition- and was dehydrated. A warm blanket and an IV took care of two of the three things. The third one would take a week or so to fix. Several shots had been given to the pooch.

Yes, we could take her home. (I never even noticed she was a she.) But light activity for a few days. So the three of us trundled her back to the car. Then to my house. As the dog slept quietly in a bed made of my old blanket, we sipped on a few beers and decided on a name for her.

Actually it was Mike who came up with her name. I told them how me met in the park (not telling them about my tears at the time) and how it was one soggy dog when I picked her up.

“Soggy Dog?” Said Mike: “There’s her name right there! Soggy Dog!”

My old girl giggled and we spit out our beers when she said:
"Soggy Dog? That is the name of a Bar, not a puppy!"

I chirped: "No, Mike's right. We shall call her: Soggy D!"

Mike laughed: "Now that sounds like some kind of sugary drink!"

We laughed like the old/new friends we were. Later her name was shortened to just Soggy.

A year later, Soggy had flowers in her hair for Mike and my old girl’s wedding. A year after that, and Soggy gifted them both with a puppy. I kept the other one.

I gave that puppy to my new girl.

Soggy loved us all.

We loved her back.

That’s a dog’s life.

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