GINGER ‘THE DOG’
I always wanted a dog ever since I was a little boy but my parents wouldn’t let me have one, I know classic story. Eight years ago, I lived in a rough neighbourhood near St. Clair and O’Connor right by the Peek Freens cookie factory and close to a plastic factory so every other day I was either craving cookies or light headed from the plastic fumes. Not too far from there was this odd second hand store that always had crap and next to that was a Puppy Rescue. The doors to the two places connected which was odd. What was odder was the man that ran the place. He looked like he was stuck in the 70’s and it seemed like the only reason there wasn’t a Duster, a Charger or some other power car parked in the back was because of his DWI. There was something else going on in there maybe they were selling drugs. I’m not quite sure; there were always young teen-aged boys around helping out. I just hoped it was drugs and nothing worse. I just knew there was something about this guy that I didn’t like. Later I would learn by revisiting to adopt my cat Ollie that it was a puppy mill. The dogs always looked the same. I know I paint an ugly picture but that’s the truth and we all know the truth can be far from pretty. Also true was that the shelter had about 12 cages stacked 3 high 2 wide across from each other in the back of this filthy place. This is where I met Ginger my dog. I had been to the SPCA and to the Humane Society but they had no pups and it was my first dog and I really wanted a puppy but not just for me but for my soon to be step daughter Brittany. I figured this could be a bond for us a way to connect, she could pick the dog, I’d steer her to the one I want and we would both be happy and away from thus ugly place. So the day had come to pick our puppy and I said to Brittany, “Look at that one. Look how big she is and how bright she is and how friendly she is but kids are kids and she went for the runt that cried. And that would be Ginger the best and prettiest dog any man has ever had. I asked what kind of dog Ginger was and he told me she was a cross between a Golden Retriever and something else. Now when people ask I tell them she’s a Scarborough she doesn’t know who her daddy was. She’s a mutt and we love her. They’re the best ones. Sometimes the most beautiful things come from the worst places. Eight years later Brittany is all grown up and has a dog of her own and I have a daughter named Delilah now and guess what? Ginger has a new best friend.