I was out for my usual jog, when something about the radiant July morning influenced me to go through the city park. It was still too early for anyone to actually be out and about so the park was fairly quiet. Then suddenly, a faint cry caused me to stop in place. Cautiously, I searched my surroundings for the source of the whimper when a movement caught my eye. Out of nowhere, a gigantic brown fluff ball dashed passed me. The ragged dog cowered beneath the park bench. That’s when I heard the shouting.

“Hey! Stop that dog!” This middle aged man was running towards me. His navy pants were pulled way above his bellybutton and his hat was a little crooked on his head. But the thing that caught my eye was the object in his hand; it was a lengthy silver pole that had some kind of loop at one end. He was headed toward the dog.

“No, wait!” I stood directly in front of the park bench with both arms raised in the air. I was not going to move and the dog catcher could sense that. He lost his balance, nearly tackling me to the ground. I felt bad for the guy, really, but only for a split second.

“Excuse me, ma’am, but I need to get that dog.” He looked around me at the park bench with an anxious expression on his face. He didn’t look as intimidating as a dog catcher should because his arms were small and shaky. “It’s really important.”

“What if I told you he was my dog?” This seemed to surprise him as his face wrinkled like he was in deep thought. I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself if I let him take this dog though, therefore I was going to do something about it.

“Then I’d need to see your dog license.”

“My, uh, my what?” Oh no.

“I’d need to see your dog license proving that you own this dog.” I hadn’t thought about that. I turned to look over my right shoulder at the big fluff ball. He was giving me adorable puppy eyes, and I couldn’t bare the thought of having him sit in a pound.

“Okay, ya know what?” What was I getting myself into? “I don’t own him, but what if I want to?” The dog catcher relaxed, leaning onto one leg. I’m sure I was irritating him at this point.

“Look, ma’am, can I just take the mutt? Then you can go and find some adorable purebred puppy and we can all live happily ever after.” Yeah, I was irritating him.

The dog seemed to sense that the conversation was calming down as he lazily walked to my side. Sitting down, he jabbed his slobbery, wet nose into my hand leaving drool on my running pants. Then the smell crept into my nose. I could tell he had just been dumpster diving, looking for food or something, because man, did he smell terrible! What was I getting myself into?

“Okay, fine!” The dog catcher threw his arms in the air, “I give up. Follow me to my van and I’ll see if I have some papers for you.” He turned and walked away from me, slouching terribly. I looked down at the dog, its tail was wagging.

Then next thing I knew I was sitting on my crimson red couch having a staring contest with this giant fluff ball. I guess I hadn’t really thought my whole plan through since I was questioning if I even had enough time to take care of a dog. The thing was just sitting there, panting. Its tongue was out, drool running down from both sides of his mouth. The dumpster smell lingered in my living room. First things first, he needed a bath.

“Have you ever even had a bath before?” Great, I’d already started talking to it. I lifted myself off the couch and easily received the dog’s attention. He pranced behind me as we made our way to my nice, clean bathroom.

“Get in the tub,” I commanded, pointing where I wanted the mutt to go. He sat in the doorway and smiled at me. “C’mon, in the tub.”

I stepped inside the tub to see if he would follow me. I felt ridiculous as I stood there calling for this dog that I didn’t even have a name for yet. Pretty soon, curiosity got the better of him and he had two paws up on the side. It took all of my upper body strength to drag the rest of his body over the ledge and into the bathtub. With my energy completely drained, I sat in the tub trapped under the 100-pound dog that smelled like a trashcan. But don’t worry he seemed to be enjoying himself since he still had his silly smile on his face.

I pried him off of my legs just enough to sit on the edge of the tub. I cautiously reached for the faucet, afraid to alarm the dog in any way. As soon as the water came streaming down, he was out of there. He bolted past me, pushing me to the floor. I laid there without any ambition to get up. I could hear the sound of his untrimmed nails on my hardwood floors, as he circled around my house.

“Okay, bath time, take two.” I had finally gotten him to calm down after what felt like forever. I dragged him into the bathroom and made sure to close the door in case he thought of escaping again. I had already filled the tub with water, hoping maybe it would be a little easier this way. Hopefully. The dog stared at the still water and seemed to be calm. I watched as he cautiously put one paw in as if to see if the water was cold. With the one paw in the tub, he looked over his shoulder at me.

“Go ahead, get in,” I encouraged. He was giving me those puppy dog eyes again. Man, was this dog good. But I wasn’t going to let him off the hook easily. I went up behind him and lifted his hind legs into the tub. Water splashed over the sides and all over my nice tile floor that was no longer clean. The now soaking wet dog sat there and, with a look of defeat, we both knew I had won this battle.

After lots and lots of shampooing, I finally got him rinsed off, out of the tub, and ready to be dried. He stood there staring at me as I rummaged through my towels to find the oldest one I could. This dog could make a mess of my house, soak my bathroom floor, but he was NOT going to ruin my nice towels.

“Ah HA!” I exclaimed thrusting the towel into the air. “Found one.” I turned back to the mangy dog that didn’t really look mangy anymore. Actually, this dog seemed a little different after the bath. Almost, dare I say, calmer.

It took forever to get him completely dry and I was ready for bed. I changed out of my wet clothes and put on some comfy sweatpants and a t-shirt. My favorite show was on TV and the popcorn was in the microwave, making my apartment smell like a movie theatre. As I plopped down on the couch, the dog slowly climbed up next to me. He kept his head low, like he was trying to avoid eye contact. After a little twirl, he dropped down next to me, leaning his head on my knee. I started to pet his head to show him it was okay.

“You’re not that bad after all. Are you, Fluffball?”

And that’s the story of how I found my best friend.