One day, we woke up and there was a man chasing mom down the street. He had a truck with him and grabbed her and stuck her in a cage-like place. My brother and I were left alone at that point. We never saw our mother again. We stuck together for a while. We found the Oakland restaurants that put out garbage and we looked every evening to see what we could find. Chicken bones, pork, beef, even chicken feet—all were on the menu if we went to Chinatown. It was great. We slept under the overpass when it was raining. There were a lot of people sleeping out there. Some of them were really nice and let us get close. It helped on cold nights.
This young guy in an SUV pulled up to the curb when he saw me. He held out something that smelled delicious and I went up close to see what it was. He grabbed me and put me in the back of his SUV. We drove for a while and I got completely confused. I was in an area I had never seen before. He took me through an alley and into a place that had a bunch of wired cages. He put a collar on me and shoved me into one of them. I was worried about my brother, but there was nothing I could do about that. There was water in my cage, but no food. I was hungry and wondered where and when my next meal would show up. I found it out would be a couple of day before I would eat again.
There were a lot of other dogs out in this yard. Some looked torn up with scars and bloody faces. I realized to survive, I had to grow up and get hard fast. The first day someone brought a bowl of kibble to my cage, I snarled at the guy and gave him my hardest look. He backed away respectfully. I was learning a survival skill. Some fool left my cage unlocked and I ran off as fast as I could. I spent another couple of years as a homeless dog. I was picked up as a stray (or vagrant) and taken to a shelter. This was bad and good. I was used to cages, but that was the bad part. I did get regular food and water; that was the good part. People wandered through and looked at me and said, “Damn! That’s a scary looking dog!” and walked on to the cages with the little fluffy guys. Who gives a shit? I was getting fed. It was okay.
A couple came and said, “We’ll take that one” about me after a couple of months. The shelter people did an operation on me before I went home with these people so I couldn’t have puppies. It’s just as well. I didn’t want puppies. We got into the car and we drove to a place called Hercules. I was put out in the backyard and I was fine. I stayed outside all of the time. I was “security,” the man said. They fed me once a day and gave me water. Still, I felt like something was missing in my life. These people never even gave me a name. They called me “the dog”. Still, it was okay.
