Her truck was beautiful, old, a restored classic. I don’t remember the make and the model. It was usually parked a few stalls down from mine the nights we stayed at the truck stop.
She was an interesting woman. Older. Missing teeth. Plump. And she worked hard. According to my van-dwelling buddy, she rivaled the men at the day labor facility in town. We had never really spoken until that evening.
It was her dog that first decided to introduce himself. A pit bull. My little dog was a half Chihuahua, half Jack-Russel terrier mix. My dog was known for feeling like he’s as large as a lion. All seven pounds of him.
Her dog could have eaten my dog in two bites flat.
Her first words to me indicated that her dog was just the sweetest thing ever. No worries.
I kept one eye on her and one eye on her dog.
As the months waned on I would learn that she had another dog in the back of her truck and a cat.
All of her worldly possessions were in the back of that truck. At night, plus her, two pit bulls, a cat, a litter box, and then puppies. The smell coming from the back of her truck wasn’t pleasant. I was worried about all of their safety.
During the day, these animals would go with her to job sites and stay in the vehicle. There were a few days that were still hot in the fall and I worried for all of them. Not to mention potential hygiene issues that may be present.
If I was in this position, I would have had to made the difficult choice of giving all of them away or finding someone to take care of them, at the very least, while I was at work. Maybe I would have kept one pet.
Having one pet, may have been doable, but having multiple large pets in such a confined space, all while having to make sure none of you overheat or die of dehydration? I couldn’t do it.
A couple of years later, I would learn that this woman had found love, a man to settle down with. I never heard what happened to the pets. She moved in with him and as far as I know lives happily to this day. That may not be the case, but that’s what I heard.