by Anne Leighton
RRRRingo came to me last fall-- October. A groomer found him, walking around the Bronx. He was dirty, she cleaned him. She called everyone she knew, and said that she would take him to Animal Control if no one was interested. I said, "Well, I can find a home for any animal, bring him here if no one wants him." I have five cats-- no one wanted them, either. But they were all great. I took him for a walk, and noticed the curve of his arms-- he looked like a drummer. I gave him the name of the most wonderful and sweethearted drummer-- ever, RRRRingo Starrrrr. I gave him all the "r's" 'cause-- well, he's a dog.
He liked to munch stuff from the street, and I didn't let him do that... well, when I caught him. One time he discovered pizza crust, and I decided to let him have pizza (without the cheese) once a week. It satisfied him.
I wrote a poem about him liking pizza-- I can't post it here because there are a few naughty words, but you can email me if you'd like a copy of it.
I didn't think I'd ever love a dog, and he taught me about dogs and how to love him.
He died this morning-- I was holding his hand. Ironically, we think he might have eaten some poison. It was something I didn't see him get.
I wish I could get the cab companies in the Bronx to take big dogs, but they won't. I also wish that animal medical centers wouldn't charge so much money and hold on to dogs. I also wish he wasn't into crunching stuff from the street.
He was the best dog in the world.
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