I found Andrew about thirteen years ago down in Miami. Nowadays we live on a boat in Fort Lauderdale, but I’m originally from Miami. Andrew, as far as I know, has always lived in Fort Lauderdale.
I was six months old and I wanted to go out and see the world. I wasn’t getting any younger and the lure of the road was calling to me. So, one day when no one was looking, I just took off. At first, I had a grand time. I’d sniff my way up one street and then down the next. I met up with a few other dogs, chased a few cars, and thought to myself, This is the life. But after a day or so, I started to get hungry and, unlike the home I had left, the humans I ran into had no desire to feed me. I did get into a few garbage cans, but the pickings were kinda slim.
On my third day of freedom, I’m running down the street and a white pickup truck stops and this guy gets out and talks to me. I forget exactly what he said, but it was something along the line of buying me a hamburger. Naturally, I jumped into the truck and off we went. Right about now, you are all thinking that the human was Andrew. Well, you are all wrong. The guy’s name was Don.
He took me to a McDonalds and bought me two hamburgers. Then we went to his house and I stayed with him. I had tired of being on the road. It was nice to be fed every day, and to be loved wasn’t bad either. The only downside was that Don kept calling me George.
Now this is where Andrew comes into the picture. About three times a week, Andrew would drive down to Miami to do some business. Don was a friend of his, and they’d get together for lunch whenever they could. A week after I found Don, he took me to breakfast where we met up with Andrew. Andrew and I were introduced and the three of us had drive-thru McMuffins.
While we were eating, Don said, “I can’t take care of George anymore. I’m going to take him to the Humane Society this morning.” He was? That came as news to me! I thought he liked me. But as you will shortly see, there were bigger things happening here—cosmic things.
Andrew spoke up. “Look, I live almost across the street from the Fort Lauderdale Humane Society. I’ll take the dog in for you and save you a trip.” So I was put in Andrew’s car and away we went.
It’s about a twenty-minute ride from where we left Don to the Humane Society.
As we exited the highway, Andrew turned to me and said, “It looks like I’m stuck with you. I just can’t drop you off to be put in a cage.” I figured that’s what he would do, because I gave him a few licks during the ride up, and I tried to look both pitiful and cute at the same time. That ain’t easy, you try it sometime.
When we got to the boat, Andrew told me that he once had a dog named George, so I would need a new name. Hey, I don’t care what you call me; just don’t call me late for dinner! At first, he said he was going to name me Don, but then he changed it to Danny. My full name is Daniel J. Daniels.
Now here is where things get a little weird. A week later, Don was dead. I don’t know if he knew he was going to die, or if some cosmic force had him turn me over to Andrew because he was destined to die. Whatever it was, here I am living on a boat with my human. He’s not really a bad sort, although it was a chore to get him trained just right. But it’s been worth it. Every morning after I take him for a walk, he gives me a treat. What dog could ask for anything more?