“You couldn’t imagine, ” she told me, and she was serious.
After a while, out in the waters a dog paddled by. A pit bull.
She saw him, he saw her. They made eye contact.
He swam over. He crawled onto the solid dry roof.
He slunkered up and sat down next to her. They’ve been together ever since.
She called him Popeye. Because he only has one eye – where the other had been, is a gash, a little maw in scarred gray skin.