They called me “Tuff”. Once in a while they fed me. But I knew they didn’t like me. They told the lady, “yeah, he lives in the woods, but he probably won’t make it through the next winter.” The lady’s mouth hung open. She saw that I was really, really skinny and I had lesions all over my body. I also knew I wouldn’t make it through the winter, but this jerk was the only person around and I felt like he was my only option.
I don’t know how the heart works, but I could literally see the lady’s heart beat right through her chest as she told the man, “I would like to take him home, please.” She named me “Toby” and often called me “Tobito.” She loved me. I loved her.
%3
e weight on. I was so afraid of the dog door in the house that the lady had to crawl through it back and forth to show me that it wouldn’t swallow me up. I met so many nice animals, but my favorite was the Haitian dog Ti-gba. She told me her story which sounded a little like mine. I lived four glorious years on a farm that was full of joy.
What I want to tell to tell hungry dogs out there is this: never give up, even if you’re hungry and filthy and disliked. What I want to tell to the humans: please – if you see a dog that seems to be in trouble, know that he IS in trouble. Do something, even if it’s inconvenient and not in your schedule for the day. I guarantee that you will never, ever regret it.
Signed, Toby the Brown Dog