Proof The Bible Is True

You can’t go home again. That’s what they say. But I returned to California, where I grew up, after seven years of being away.

 

My roots were there, I figured, even though my parents and grandparents were now gone and I’d lost touch with all my old friends. Besides, my lonely new house was about to become a home. I was getting a dog. I straightened the family photographs on the end table while I waited for the shelter volunteer to drop the dog off for a trial run.

 

My father and grandmother smiled out at me from the frames. Two generations of Californians. They knew where home was, I thought. I hoped one day I would too.

 

A car horn honked outside and I ran to open the door. The big rottweiler I’d chosen from the animal adoption Web site sat strong and proud in the passenger seat of the volunteer’s truck. Her thumbnail picture had immediately jumped out at me from the computer screen.

 

“Lili” had been abandoned in the Mohave Desert. A good Samaritan had brought her to an animal shelter, but after 10 days she was scheduled to be put to sleep. Bottom line was, Lili needed a home as much as I did.

 

Read More: “That’s Some Dog You’ve Got” – Guideposts