David is a family man and a man of Christ. He’s everything that Sun Devil Wrestling stands for. He’s been a great leader for our program and truly cares about our community.
I was going to take him back to the shelter on Monday. I hate admitting that, but I was done. His name is Sarge. He’s a 110-pound Pyrenees mix, and for three weeks, he has been an absolute nightmare.
He doesn’t chew shoes. He doesn’t bark. He escapes. Six-foot fence? He digs under. Locked gate? He figured out the latch. Every single day while I was at work, he’d break out. Animal control would pick him up miles away, tired, dirty, and limping.
I couldn't take the fines anymore. I couldn't take the worry. "He just doesn't want to be here," I told my sister. "He’s a runner."
Yesterday was Saturday. I was home. At 10:00 AM, he started pacing. Whining at the door. Clawing at the wood. I decided to let him out, but this time, I was going to follow him. I had to know where he was going.
He didn't run to the park. He didn't chase squirrels. He put his nose to the ground and walked with a terrifying single-mindedness. He walked a long way. He crossed a highway. He cut through a thorny thicket that tore at my jacket.
Finally, he stopped at cemetery. He squeezed through a broken bar in the fence. I climbed over.
I found him in the back corner, the section where nobody visits anymore. He was lying flat on his belly in front of a small, neglected headstone. He wasn't panting. He wasn't restless. He was totally, completely still.
I walked closer. The name was an old man’s name.
I realized then why the shelter had trouble placing him. Why he was "a runner." He wasn't running away from me. He was running back to him.
For years, Sarge has been making this trek. Rain, snow, heat—it didn't matter. He had a standing appointment.
I sat down in the dirt next to him. I put my hand on his matted fur. He let out a long, shaky sigh and leaned his heavy head against my leg.
I’m not taking him back to the shelter on Monday. Instead, I bought a heavy-duty harness and a 20-foot lead. If he needs to visit his dad, he’s not going to do it alone anymore. We’ll walk the distance together. Every Saturday.
He’s not an escape artist. He’s just loyal to a fault.
Credit: Born legend
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.@jjmccarthy02 is the first Vikings quarterback aged 22 or younger since Tommy Kramer in 1977 (Week 12 vs. San Francisco) to throw for three passing touchdowns in a single game.
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Congrats to Cam Butka, Chris Nuss, Devin Doty, and Michael Richardson on walking across stage and officially earning their bachelor’s degrees from Wilkes today 👏👏
👨🎓Butka, Biochemistry
👨🎓Nuss, Nursing
👨🎓Doty, Mechanical Engineering
👨🎓Richardson, Criminology
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