the stories go on

The phone rang a few minutes ago. It was D., who asked "is this the.....bookstore?" She'd phoned last week with a message for one of the street guys; basically " your dog needs you." She'd had the dog, an aging male built like a Rottweiller with short legs, for nearly a year. The dog kept getting out, in search of his person. He'd been with his guy through many a homeless camp and in a few short lived attempts at being indoors and safe. He's about the sweetest old dog I know, with the exception of my 14 year old yellow lab, who is known to our family as the Buddy-satva. Buddy accepts and loves all beings, from squalling abandoned kittens to disgruntled old veterans.
But anyway, I'd passed D's message on this morning. "He came and got him" she said, "thank you so much". But she was crying as if her heart would break. It's okay, she said; I needed them to be back together. The dog's person is going through yet another series of court dates, but has some disability money now, and a place to rest his huge shaggy head. I hope his dog will keep safe with him now. D. said the dog showed more excitement than she'd seen in him all year long.
The August heat continues unabated. I close up the store in early morning to hold some of the cool night air. The animals press themselves to the cool linoleum. We'll miss this heat when the winter hits us, and we can't get warm enough, but now we all move as little as possible and think about cool things.