Guest writer was part of the "invisible" homeless in the Conejo Valley at the time of writing this post. He has since regained his footing and is doing great.
(Photo Credit: Lesley Bryce Photography in Camarillo)
Why do I feel the need to regularly return to the last place that made me happy? I can’t afford the gas to drive there, yet I believe that I have too. I sometimes think it’s therapeutic, and all I have left. I guess it’s because I miss my dogs terribly, and driving there brings me marginally closer to the good times I had with them.
My dogs loved and cared about me even with all my problems. They didn’t want to leave the minute the money ran out. They didn’t blame every bad choice or unfortunate circumstance on me. They unconditionally stood by me during the good and bad times. They truly are a man's best friend. Sadly, they’ve been gone for nearly six months now, and my grief offers me no re