I had seen him sitting on a flight of stairs. There was a deep gash across his forehead and one of his eyes. Seemed like a freshly inflicted one. How could someone render that injury? That gruesome wound, crippling him forever. He let out neither a sigh, nor a whimper. He looked majestic, yet, so morose. His cashew brown eyes looked captivating. Wistful, dark truths hidden behind them. He stared into nothingness, or maybe something that no one, but he, could see.
I had never seen him here. Was he lost? How did he land up here? Who was he?
I walked over and sat next to him. The gash was now prominent. I could feel his pain, strangely unexpressed. I looked into those enticing eyes. His innocent gaze didn't waver a bit. I smiled at him. No reciprocation. I touched him. No fear or hesitation. He calmly moved towards me. He had sensed my harmless intentions. Seemingly abandoned, seemingly not belonging to anyone.
He had never seen me. That wound would never let him see anyone, anything. A touch is all it took. We walked away together.
That's how I met Homer. My first pet dog.
He now has all the love, a family, a great life, a wonderful companion Merca and an adorable litter of 7 newborn pups. He still stares into nothingness; and a touch is all it takes to snap him out of it.