Milton and Scooter (Part 2)

After my initial conversation with Milton, I returned almost daily to the park for the next two weeks to hand over a hundred bucks, two cans of dog food, a box of dog treats, and my idea to assist with Scooter if Milton got a job.

Each visit, no Milton and Scooter. I was a bit deflated at their absence but hopeful they had moved on to a better life than living in a vehicle under a cedar tree.

Then one morning, I drove by and saw Milton's vehicle in its usual spot. I was genuinely happy, then slightly rebuked myself.

I parked across the corner and walked up to the vehicle. Milton saw me and powered down the window.

“Hey, Matt,” he said.

He remembered my name!

“Hello Milton,” I said.

Scooter bounded over from the passenger seat to greet me. What a goofy beast!

“I don't have my shoes on or I'd come outside,” said Milton.

“Don't worry about it,” I said.

I pulled the money from pocket and told him his plight had profoundly moved me and I wanted to help out. He thanked me and then I asked if he wanted the dog food and treats. He said yes. I retrieved the goods from my car and handed them over. Scooter caught a whiff of the treats and went nuts.

It was time to pitch the idea. I outlined my plan to assist should Milton get a job in the neighborhood. I mentioned that several convenience stores and the grocery store were hiring. I could walk the dog when he was at work. I'd pay for a day or two of doggie day care, as well.

Milton's face brightened as he listened to my proposal. He said he would consider it.

I handed him my business card and told him to call me if he wanted to pursue my idea. He examined the card and asked about Nestucca Spit Press, my publishing business. What ensued was a half hour discussion about the state of independent publishing and my work as an author coach.

Milton kept firing one question after another. I hadn't met anyone this curious about what I do, well, perhaps ever.

I asked Milton if he was a reader. He was. I asked if he ever found books in the nearby street libraries. He did. We then launched into an enthusiastic conversation about the magic of finding rare literary gems in the street libraries. I wondered if he'd found one of my books in the libraries. I almost asked him, but demurred.

It was time to go. We said our goodbyes. As I walked away to my car, I assessed the probability of Milton calling? Would there be a role for me in helping him?

There was nothing else to do but keep on visiting Milton and Scooter and building trust. You just don't let a stranger care for your beloved dog.