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Poor Ezekiel
A narrative by: Kennedi McClain
Walking through the streets of New York made me realize how bad homelessness is. For the past few days I've been walking down every street trying to find my owner. I should've known that my owner neglected me on purpose, but I guess I didn't want to believe it. Soon, I reached 42nd street and I felt tired for the day, so I laid down by the Toys R' Us. I was so tired I couldn't stop myself from falling asleep even though the lights were shining from every direction.
The next morning when I woke up, I checked my surroundings. Being a German shepherd, we were bred to always be on guard. To my right I noticed a human eating a dirty hotdog in a bag that read Nathan's. The human looked at me and smiled. His hair was dirty and his clothes were ripped. All five of my senses were going crazy at the sight of this man. I cocked my head and guessed that he was in the same position as me, homeless.
The man scooted over until he was shoulder to shoulder with me. Then, he broke off a piece of sausage and held it to my mouth. I chewed it up quick and swallowed it. It was hard and it hurt going down my throat. I stuck out my tongue and started breathing hard. The man then slowly scratched my head.
"Hi." He said, his voice a little raspy. "Do you have an owner?" He asked, already knowing the answer. But all I did was stare and gave him a puppy dog look. A few minutes later I tried to break the silence and I laid my head on his criss-crossed legs. He stroked my fur and said, "You're an Ok dog, Ezekiel." My ears stood straight up, I was trying to comprehend the name I was just given. "You know," he chuckled, "Ezekiel was my dad's name." I looked up at his frowning face.
In a split second he scooped me up into his arms and held me tight, and at that instant I felt very happy, warm and even safe inside. That was the moment I realized that every thing was going to be okay.