An Angel.

Ninth Street has an angel. She showed up a year or two ago. She goes by “Arrow,” since she lives mostly down at the Arrow Motel. It seems like everyone around here has a nickname. She comes down to the Ninth Street Cafe sometimes, and she's always really glad to see us.

“Hey, Arrow! Good to see you!” I say.

She just smiles and gives me a kiss.

If you have something to give her she'll gladly take it, but that's not why she comes. Actually, she very rarely takes anything from our bread table. She just comes for the company. She shows up when she will, and she never, ever fails to bring a smile to just about everyone around her. Everyone watches out for her, and I've never seen her without a friend nearby.

She is kind and extremely gentle. She loves attention, but not in an obnoxious way. Perhaps it's not so much that she likes getting attention, but that she likes giving you attention. She simply walks up to you with those kind eyes, and as long as you're returning that kindness, she'll stay right there with you. She soaks up every bit of love you give, and returns it to you tenfold.

Chris and I often talk about how she might be an angel in disguise, and we're not kidding. Everyone on Ninth Street loves her, and no one has ever spoken ill of her. She radiates kindness and compassion, grace and love. She finds beauty in everything.

She's never told me her story, and I still don't know where she came from. I suppose I never will. Her dark eyes and black hair somehow brighten up the whole street. She doesn't mind being there, and honestly, she's the one personality on Ninth Street that I hope never leaves.

“I'm glad you're here, Arrow,” I tell her.

She just closes her eyes and turns her head, as if to say, “I know. Me too.”

She's a sweetheart with a soul made of pure gold. She's the Angel of Ninth Street.

She's the best dog I've ever known.