This tail should have been written weeks ago. I started it several times but my friends, Odie, then Leo, then Paco, arrived, and each week they needed to be recognized. This tail was set aside.
Luckily, more than a week has passed without a close friend joining us. So I can grip my quill and finally recognize a dog who never had a home, but had a lot of love.
Let me introduce you to Dirty Harry.
Before coming to the Bridge, Harry lived on the streets of Oildale, CA. He never had, nor wanted, a home. In a world of domesticated animals, where dogs sleep in warm beds and are warm and dry during storms, Harry wanted none of it. What he wanted wwas independence.
He would not let himself be adopted, or even touched, but he did choose a human.
Dirty Harry selected as his human our friend Yolanda Agredano, mom to our cute little friend Beaux Jangles. Miss Yolanda is a postal worker delivering mail on the streets Harry liked to roam.
Harry had no schedule, no routine, except one: Each day he would wait for Miss Yolanda and accompany her on her route.
Miss Yolanda adored Dirty Harry. She would have loved to have picked him up, take him home, and make him Beaux’s brother. But Harry would never let her touch him. As much as he loved her, he loved his independence more.
Harry was brave to live on his own. Houses provide protection; leashes provide guidance; freedom is much harder and inevitably ends the same way.
Harry had crossed many a street in his life. No one is sure what happened that final day. Did he forget to look? Did he misjudge the car’s speed? The answer doesn’t matter. It wouldn’t change the end. Harry was hit by a car.
Miss Yolanda, who was on her lunch break, rushed to his side. Harry finally let him touch her. He looked in her eyes to tell her everything was alright, and then he slipped away to the
This should be where the story ends. Homeless dog hit by a car and dies. But for Dirty Harry it is where the story began.
Everyone on Miss Yolanda’s route knew Harry. He was the fabric that held their community together.
People began leaving tokens of appreciation for Miss Yolanda to honor Harry. Word spread about the homeless dog and the postal worker he followed. First, the print media, then television, interviewed Miss Yolanda, and the people on her route, about this dirty little dog.
It created a spark, which became a fire. The community came together on a Sunday afternoon. There were probably some Trump voters there, some Hillary voters, the two sides in this supposedly divided country, to honor Harry. No one there cared about whose life mattered more than Harry’s. A dirty, little, white dog showed us we are all alike and undivided. By sundown Sunday $745.00 was raised for, and 260 pounds of dog food was donated to local shelters in Harry’s name.
And a little dog shall lead them.
As for Harry,we made him a wonderful home to live in with a great big bed and lots of toys. He turned it down. He has no interest it a home. And in a place where everything is always clean Harry somehow remains dirty.
For all his roaming and freedom, Harry still keeps one appointment. Each day he flies into the sun, back to Oildale, where he still dutifully follows her on her route.
When she is done Harry returns here to run the streets with no name knowing he is forever known and loved, and that he wAas the luckiest dog in town.