who we rescued as a puppy. He had literally been dumped on the highway and found his way to the dumpster beside the convenience store in front of the house where we lived. One day I heard my son, then a toddler, hollering "Goggie! Goggie" and looked out to see this poor miserable specimen on our front steps. It was thin and sorry-looking and I looked in the fridge and found it some leftovers which it gobbled up. It seemed friendly so I cautiously let my son out on the steps with me. They hit it off immediately. After that I fixed the puppy a bed in the laundry room and barricaded it in there with the baby gate, letting it out at intervals to potty until it seemed housebroken, and I took it to the vet for shots and all the necessary puppy stuff. Fast forward several months...puppy, by then named Rainy (short for Rainy Day, after the day he wandered up to the door) had by then made friends with our elderly neighbor, who had a large garden. He would keep the man company as he went up and down the rows, sitting beside him as he hoed or weeded, and the man's wife would slip Rainy table scraps. Soon he was there more than at our house. When we moved, I asked the old folks if they would like to keep him, since he seemed to be more their dog than ours by then, and they said yes without a bit of hesitation.
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