I don't know who was happier on Sunday morning: Prince to see me, or me seeing him again.
As soon as he spotted me in the vestibule of his "foster parent's" home, Prince jumped to his feet, began wagging like mad and giving me a constant "Woo! Woo! Woo! Woo!" which is how he's always greeted me when excited. I couldn't stop giving him monstrous pats on his back with one hand while my other arm was wrapped around his neck in a big hug.
We're finally together again, thanks to the help of more than 100 Kossacks who dug into their pockets and found some spare cash to help out a total stranger.
Even better, with the money donated through a community drive organized by ShoshanaD and assisted by UnaSpenser, the pooch and I have a home. I was able to rent a furnished room in a clean, quiet and air conditioned home – a survival necessity this summer. It's actually more than just a room. At one time, the space I am in would have been called an "in-law's apartment." On the lower level of a split level ranch-style house, I have a bedroom, a living room area which doubles as the place where I write, and a tiny kitchenette to prepare meals. There's a private bath and a separate entrance leading to a fenced in yard and access to the house's BBQ grill.
With the money you donated, I was able to pay first-and-last as well as put down a small doggie deposit in case my 12-year old senior buddy suddenly decides to start chewing furniture again – something he hasn't done since before his first birthday.
I also went to the grocery store and loaded up on food basics so Prince and I are eating every day without worrying about who might feed us tonight.
Coming Back
For the first time in months, it feels as if my life is starting to come back to a place that sort of resembles normalcy.
Besides the direct help from the fund raiser, two different Kossacks gave me work, small writing assignments with the promise of more if they liked what I turned in to them. Hard on their heels, the executive producer of a network newsmagazine show tracked me down and phoned to discuss the possibility of my going to work for the program as an investigative producer focusing on social issues. The two obscure publishers, one on each coast, who expressed interest in my turning this series into a book were joined by a third.
I'm not counting on anything – living day-to-day on the streets taught me the folly of false expectations – and both a book deal and the network gig are long-shots anyway. But what I am counting on is being able to climb back up after being knocked to the bottom.
Prince could care less about this; he's just happy that I am back in his life for his routine of a scratch, a snack and a snooze. He's been following me everywhere 'lest he lose sight of me, getting up and trotting along even if I go from where I sit writing to a different chair where I read.
Carrying On
I plan to continue writing about the homeless and hungry who have nothing in our land of plenty. Right now, I am finishing up writing a piece that tells the story of one eight year old girl whose family lost their home and now live in a van. It's a continuation of the piece I posted late last week about the plight of homeless kids.
I'm just starting to do reporting on a largely unseen part of the problem: People in rural areas, which is where about 10% of America's homeless people live. In many respects, their situation is even more desperate than what the urban homeless deal with every day. Those of us in cities have decent access to shelters, food banks, social service agencies and groups, and charities. But for people in rural counties, help can be a two or three hour drive away – if it exists at all.
Thanks for reading the Suddenly Homeless series, for responding to ShoshannaD's call, and for all of your encouragement to keep writing.
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