His name was Billy, and he had been with me for only about a year.
My children called him Buddy, but I called him my friend and bodyguard.
Billy went almost everywhere with me. Every evening, he would sit on the couch beside me while I watched television. Eventually, he would fall asleep, and when I was ready to go to my room, I would pick him up and lay him down in his place.
That became our routine.
He was also very protective. Whenever strangers came around, or whenever he noticed something suspicious, Billy would bark.
But Billy had his silly ways.
He never pooped inside the house, but sometimes, when he was hungry or upset, he would stretch his right leg strangely away from his body and pee on the floor.
It took me a while to understand that this was his way of communicating with me.
One day, Billy did something wrong and, for the first time, I spanked him lightly on his backside.
Billy looked at me.
Then he made a little crying noise. I even thought I saw tiny tears in his eyes.
I felt terrible.
But with Billy, you could never be completely sure. Was he really upset? Or was this another performance because he wanted more food or attention?
That was Billy.
Later that same day, he disappeared.
I came home from work, and he was gone.
The next morning, I stepped outside to get into my car and could not believe what I saw.
An elderly woman who lived only a few houses away was taking Billy for a walk.
My Billy.
And Billy seemed perfectly comfortable.
I considered reporting her. After all, he was my dog. But when I looked at the woman, I hesitated. She was elderly, and perhaps she needed companionship.
But then again, I needed companionship too. My children had gone away to college, and Billy had become my little companion.
Eventually, I reported him missing.
I hoped I would hear that the woman had simply found Billy and taken him home.
But apparently, that was not exactly what happened.
The story I heard was that the woman had been having a family gathering. There was a fire burning outside. Perhaps the smoke caught Billy’s attention.
Or maybe it was the smell of steak.
Somehow, Billy jumped over the fence and landed in her yard.
And what did my supposedly lost dog do?
He walked into the middle of the family gathering, went straight to the elderly woman, and sat beside her, wagging his tail as though he had already decided where he belonged.
Then somebody gave him a plate with steak.
And that, apparently, was how Billy got himself adopted.
Written by; Joan A.Roberts
