Seven years ago today, as I was heading out to get my allergy shot, I saw a starving dog in the street near my house in Fort Worth. He was looking at a girl eating a banana, perhaps hoping she would share. I completed my errand, but couldn't stop thinking about him. When I got home, he was lying in the doorway of a neighbor's house. I took some food to him to lure him to my house.
When he was in the back yard, I fed him both dry food and canned food, topped off with fresh water. (It was a scorching hot day.) When he finished eating, he came to me and put his big coconut head in my lap. I was hooked. He's been with me ever since.
Since I found him on the 137th anniversary of the Battle of the Little Bighorn, I named him Autie. That was George Armstrong Custer's nickname while growing up. When I took Autie to the veterinarian for shots, on 5 July, I was told that he was seven months old. Backdating, I got 5 December for his birthday. That's Custer's birthday! How cool is that?
The pictures show Autie on the day I found him and today. I call him "the impossible dog," and not just because he shouldn't have survived the starvation. You'd have to live with him to understand what this means. Suffice it to say that he has the energy and enthusiasm of 10 dogs. Imagine winning the Tour de France, which is the hardest sporting event in the world (by far). As soon as you cross the finish line on the final stage, you are informed that (1) you won the PowerBall lottery and (2) you've been awarded the Nobel Prize for Literature. You'd be ecstatic beyond words, right? You'd shriek, pump your fist, and jump for joy. That's how Autie acts every day, before every walk. I kid you not.
As hard as he is on me, I love Autie dearly. I told him on the first day of our friendship that I would always take care of him, and I have (and will).
P.S.: Autie weighed 29 pounds on the day I found him. He weighs 90 pounds now.
