Charlie is a good name.
We moved into a house. One night while coming home from shopping, I saw a black dog near our fence. My parents ignored the dog and carried some bags of groceries into the house. I didn't want the dog to get hurt so I gently clapped my hands and told the dog to go home. It trotted down the street so I grabbed a few bags of groceries and went into the house. I didn't see the dog for a few weeks but then one night I went outside to look at the stars. The dog was standing in our yard. I opened the gate and again encouraged it to go home. The dog ran under our house. I had seen the dog several times after that. Only at night. It would come out from under our house, wander the neighborhood, and then return. It dawned on me that the dog didn't have a real home. I started putting food under our house in the evening. By morning the food was gone. I began to put food there in the morning instead of at night. The dog tentatively ate the food if I stood at least twenty feet away from the entrance. After several days, I began to move slightly closer. I decided he needed a name. The name Charlie came to mind. Charlie started to get used to me standing within a few feet from the entrance. One day, I sat down in the grass. After Charlie was done eating, he came out into the yard and lay a distance from me. Far enough I couldn't reach out and touch him, but close enough. We just sat there together. I talked to him. He seemed to be listening. I decided that in the next few days, I would try to get closer. Maybe close enough to touch him. Charlie wasn't as afraid as he had been. I reasoned he would make a good pet. Charlie began coming out every day. I was pleased at his progress. One day Charlie jumped the fence. He got hit by a car. If only Charlie had stayed in the yard. I was sure it would have only been a short time longer, just a couple of more days, he might have let me pet him. You were a good boy Charlie. Yes, Charlie is a good name. R.I.P. Charlie. You will forever live in my heart.
