A PERFECT PLAN

In a tough situation last winter, I found myself homeless. My family threw me out, an arbitrary decision. No reason for freezing, for my lonely life.

After searching about in my new surroundings, I discovered a place where I could cuddle with a guy I called Pepper; he was hot tempered but warm to wrap up with. We were both homeless, and lurked around a particular yard on a street named Temple. We had a hard time; finding food, safe places to sleep, and we were often exhausted from simple survival.

There was a particular yard we hid in because there was a garage behind the house. A large dog lived there, who scared us because of her loud barking, and the way she ran fast and was always on the lookout for strangers. The moment we saw her each day, we hit the road. The people in the house called her Maya, and she would place her paws on her parents when they came home, all excited, licking the man's face and racing around the woman like it was the Fourth of July. Her joy when they were all together was contagious, and I wanted to feel like that some day.

However, I knew Maya's devotion could be my demise. I kept my distance, and so did Pepper and lots of others. This golden Rhodesian Ridgeback was as protective as the police. Once she almost killed a neighbor who was drunk and didn't understand her strength. She would willingly die for these two people. Actually she did, in an act of amazing sacrifice that mystifies me to this day.

In a matter of weeks after I came on the scene, she began to show signs of severe sickness. Her eyes were no longer filled with wonder; more and more she faltered, her vital signs failing. It was awful to see the people running to doctors with her, dressing her in warm coats and holding her in their arms trying to believe she would recover. No one knew what was wrong.

I heard the people argue. She was unable to intervene, or decide her fate. One day they left, the woman sobbing, while Maya marched, held her head high, wearing her beautiful green and gold coat. That was the last I ever saw her. When the people returned alone, I knew she had been killed. The woman's sorrow was a black cloud. Her heart would not ever be the same. Later, I found out she held Maya's head because she was too big to fit on the cold steel table where she died. The woman closed her own eyes, then Maya's. It was a scene that was horrible, but I didn't know until she told someone about it, much

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