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I was eight years old when a black dog began living on our sidewalk. He was a chow mix, black all over, except for a small white patch on his chest. His fur was a jungle of mats, and he had a chain around his neck ( believed to be from the previous owners ).

For months, he would run away from my parents and me when we left him food and water on the sidewalk everyday. If you tried to touch him, he would snarl and run away, but he always returned to his place on our sidewalk.

Finally after months of having a homeless dog on our sidewalk, we decided to lure him into our backyard with some leftovers from Panda Express. With luck, we got him in our backyard, but he still ran away from us and protested every time we tried to pet him.

A month after keeping him, I was running around in my backyard when I chose to sit on the bench and give affection to my longterm dog, Gloria. That's when I felt the head of the homeless dog rest on my lap, and for the first time ever, he let me touch him. It was as if he was letting me know he trusted me, and that he accepted his new home.

From that day on, he has been my dog. Now that I am 19 years old and in college, he is now an old dog. Toto was the name I gave him when I was 8, and he turns 13 this year.

Gray around the eyes and muzzle, he spends his old dog days bossing around the younger dogs, sleeping on the couch, and snoring on my floor at night while I read. It was almost as if he adopted us instead of us adopting him. We make each other happy, and he will always be my soulmate in dog form.

Story submitted by Savannah from Albuquerque, New Mexico.

This story was originally shared on The Animal Rescue Site. Share your very own rescue story here!