Randy's Story

Randy McGrew sat on his front step, pointing up toward the roof of his FEMA trailer. “I crawled up there during the storm. There was nowhere else to go.” Randy’s dog Freckles buried under his arm, resting her bristling white jowls along the edge of his worn jeans. “I had two other dogs that made it through the storm,” Randy recalled. “They died about two months later, and then I found her chewing at my tires—the tires on my Honda.” He rustled Freckles’ ears and then let his hands drop to his knees. Gianna motioned toward Randy’s trailer. “Did anything make it through?” He laughed, and paused a moment. “My jeans, my shirt—they were on me.” He laughed again, looking down at Freckles and waving his fingers through her coat. “I found Freckles here when she was only a baby, sniffing all around my tires.”
“She’s been a good companion for you,” Gianna said. Randy looked up. “Yeah, a good friend.”
-Katie M