A block away I could see the lights of a late night convenience store. It was still open. I bought three cans of Alpo and stuffed them into my leather coat. I was wet and ugly and the clerk looked relieved as I left. The race-type exhausts on my old Harley Davidson rattled the windows in the bar as I rode back to the bar.
The barmaid opened the cans for me and said the dog' s name was Shep. She told me he was about a year old and that his owner had gone to Germany and left him on the street. He ate all three cans of dog food with an awe-inspiring singleness. of purpose. I wanted to pet him， but he smelled like death and looked even worse. "Good luck." I said. Then got on my bike and rode away.
The next day I got a job driving a dump truck for a small paving company. As I hauled a load of gravel through the center of town， I saw Shep standing on the sidewalk near the bar. I yelled to him and thought I saw his tail wag. His reaction made me feel good.
After work I bought three more cans of Alpo and a cheeseburger. My new friend and I ate dinner together on the sidewalk. He finished his first.
The next night， when I brought his food， he welcomed me with wild enthusiasm. Now and then， his malnourished legs buckled and he fell to the pavement. Other humans had deserted him and mistreated him， but now he had a friend and his appreciation was more than obvious.
I didn' t see him the next day as I hauled load after load up the main street past the bar. I wondered if someone had taken him home.
After work I parked my black Harley on the street and walked down the sidewalk looking for him. I was afraid of what I would find. He was lying on his side in an alley nearby. His tongue hung out in the dirt and only the tip of his tail moved when he saw me.
The local veterinarian was still at his office， so I borrowed a pickup truck from my employer and loaded the limp mongrel into the cab. "Is this your dog？" the vet asked after checking the pitiful specimen that lay helplessly on his examining table.