Momma

The little man lived across the city street in LODO, which stands for lower downtown, an industrial area in Denver, CO. His home, a white, brick, run down storefront. His name was Val and I didn’t know much more about him than that. He was athletic and lean and very quirky, always tan with a wry and often inappropriate sense of humor. On the land between the street and the sidewalk, he grew squash and greens, beans and cucumbers. It was an amazing garden and I am sure, one of his sources of food. He was often outside in the blistering Colorado sun, watering his garden, the clear and cool water arcing from the hose, highlighting color, green and sunshine. One day, he saw the dog we eventually called, Momma. She was a thin, black mix between a lab maybe and who knows. She had a saggy stomach that was thin and her teats were hanging low. Every day she would come by Val’s and he would give her water. I don’t think he really had any food, so she started sniffing at my door.

I lived in a renovated rope factory across the street from Val. It was a primitive loft and it could get unbearably hot in the summer. Built of sturdy, brick walls, poorly insulated with large, opaque windows, it let all manner of hot and cold into the space. I had heard about a cheap cooler unit called a swamp cooler. I bought it at a hardware store, filled it with water and a fan would come on to bring cool air into the room. It didn’t work very well and on some nights I would push my couch to block the door and I would leave the door open to let the night air inside. Once, a man was standing at the door looking into my apartment. I woke up and saw his silhouette, but lucky for me he just moved on. I must have been crazy! My boyfriend was out of town and I was around 28 years old, but it was so hot. There were often strange things that would happen, but they were usually harmless. Because I would leave the door open from time to time, that was how I met Momma.

She started to notice my door and decided to come for a sniff. I had 2 other dogs, my own rescue dog named Eva and my boyfriend’s dog Orly. Orly was a kind Golden Retriever and Eva was a knee high Rottweiler/Lab cross with black fur and a white chest. They were wonderful dogs and companions. I already loved dogs, so I started to feed Momma and felt happy when she would take a nap in my loft. I thought she would stay, but she always got up and left for a period of time, then come back again to eat and rest, and then she would leave. After several days of this, I decided to strap on my roller skates and follow her, curious to see if she had an owner or what her situation was.

I was in downtown Denver and had never really been in a junkyard before. I had heard of them of course, as a child and read about them in stories, but this was my first experience IN one. Momma led me a few blocks to her junkyard and it was not only her home, but I finally found a soft pit in one corner where she slept and also where she fed her tiny, tiny puppies. There was a litter of puppies, their eyes not even open. I couldn’t believe my eyes and I felt a strong love for Momma and the miracle, that she had found food and shelter to take care of her babies. I knew right then that she would become our dog and we would be taking her in, and her babies of course.

My boyfriend and I brought a box to the junkyard and carefully lifted the babies inside. Momma was patient with us, but kept her snout close to her pups. We brought the puppies home and set them up in a new bed with room for Momma. Ironically, I had a large, yellow Big Dogs beach towel, which soon became their bed.

As the puppies grew, I realized another fact: that soon I would have about 7 new dogs unless I figured something out.

My boyfriend’s parents lived in a suburb behind a grade school. The school yard was very large, lush and green. It was a happy coincidence because when the puppies got big enough, they offered to put out a sign in their backyard, which read, Free Puppies. They soon got children and their parents looking at the pups. They were very careful picking out the new owners and soon all of the puppies had new homes. We were so grateful for their help and that the pups would not have to go to the Humane Society.

Momma became our dog. She loved to swim and got along well with our other two dogs. I couldn’t believe the luck and serendipity of the situation. We would take all of the dogs to the Cherry Creek Reservoir and let them run and chase balls and swim in the water near there. It was a time for the storybooks.

That summer, my boyfriend was diagnosed with diabetes. It was a very hard time for him. I remember coming home to him and those puppies. I remember through the sadness of such a major life change, to see those puppies on the floor playing and to see Momma sleeping peacefully or watching her babies. It was somehow a reminder that we do as much as we can for each other and those that we love. Through good times and bad, there is goodness in the world and hope. That wrinkly old, men can foster the most beautiful urban gardens and that junkyards can be the homes to tiny, soft puppies. Unexpected joy turns up in most unlikely places. Life and love grows everywhere.