Camouflage

We weren't expecting anything when we came home from school that day. Our new house was just that, another house. We'd gone from place to place in those days, just trying to find one to really call home.

I was 12, just a little girl with a big brother who got into trouble, and baby sister who got into everything of mine. It was when I walked into the door that I knew something was off. Something in the atmosphere was different and I noticed something moving in the small eight by five-foot backyard. I instantly ran back only to be stopped by an arm.

"No, stay in the house. We just found this dog at our porch, we're trying to find the owners." My mom said, a tall smiling Portuguese woman whose heart was on her wrist that held me.

"Awww but Mom, it's so cute!" I looked into those bright brown eyes that seemed to look back at me with a smile. He was thin. I could see his ribs, but still there was no fierceness to him. With his wagging tail and intelligent look, I couldn't help but smile back. It was as though he didn't mind being scruffy and thin, as long as he got a loving smile.

It wasn't meant to be though. We returned the dog to the owners and went back to living our lives. I learned a week later that the dog had come back to our house three more times that week, and only our house within the square that we lived in.

It was a week later on Friday that I found him outside the house. He followed me inside as soon as I opened the door. "Mom! The dog is back!" I led him to the backyard and patted him secretly. I may or may not have snuck him a snack from the fridge against my mother's will that he inhaled graciously.

The owner came to the house not very long after and they asked a question that changed everything. "Do you want him?"

My brother and I jumped on the chance. "Oh please, Mom? Please? Can we? We'll take care of him! We'll walk him, we'll feed him, please!?"

It was while we were begging and trying to prove he was a friendly dog by playing with him, that we were told the story.

His name is Camo, like camouflage, due to his brindle color. His day to day life was full of nothing but hunger and pain. The owners pitied him, because they worked all day. They admitted that they never had time to take Camo out for walks and even just left him indoors all day, forgetting to leave the back door open. At nights when they'd come home, they'd be so exhausted that they forgot to feed or water Camo. When he had an accident inside the house, they'd punish him and beat him.

It explained everything. His thin frame, scruffy hair, mannerisms, and escaping every other day.

In the end, Camo came to us. He'd gone from place to place in those days, just trying to find a real place to call home. Truth be told, he made every house we moved to feel like home. Now, ten years later, he's happy, healthy, loves to eat chicken, and run long distance with me. Never once has he run away from us, always to us.

~Nolla Dawn