Hey, Boss, your dog is fat.

Ruby is fat?

Daddy's perfect little girl is overweight?

I first heard this from a homeless man in Skid Row shortly after I moved downtown.

I can't remember just what I said but I think it started with an f and it surely was defensive---and surely offensive.

After all, I thought, who is he to tell me about my dog. He's just a homeless bum, a loser living in a cardboard box. His own life is in shambles and he's telling me about my dog?

I kept walking Ruby through Skid Row, though, and things started to happen.

I began to slow down and talk to people. Then I began to know them, some of them by name. I stopped seeing them as homeless losers and began knowing them as real people with brains and hearts and souls.

I also started hearing the same thing over and over: your dog is overweight. You need to put her on a diet.

That's when I had an epiphany. The people in Skid Row care enough about Ruby and me to tell me the truth.

I started to listen to them and I put Ruby on a diet. Then I walked her more frequently through Central City just for feedback on the girl's figure.

How's she looking now, I'd ask. Are we making progress?

People were encouraging. "She's looking better." "Keep up the good work." "You're a good man, OG."

I found out that some of the folks in Skid Row are quite knowledgeable about animals. Some come from farms and grew up raising livestock. I've met a couple of dog trainers and many people have had dogs of their own at earlier points in their lives.

Finally the good news started coming in from all sources, everywhere from Boyd and San Pedro to 6th and Gladys.

She's there, boss. She's looking good. Take her off the diet. She's just right now.

Now when I walk Ruby through Skid Row, I just know that her figure is going to be discussed. People will stand back and look her up and down. They'll even lift her up in the air. They will approve or disapprove and I'll listen and take mental notes.

Yesterday at the corner of Wall and 5th Street, one man shouted from across the street. "She looks good, but give her a little more food."

He was right, too. Ruby gained weight at Bark Avenue while I was in the hospital recently for two weeks. I had reduced her kibble intake to trim her down.

"Just a little more food, chief."

I didn't see Rubester was a little under until my neighbor told me. I was living in a fool's paradise. Now she's receiving a quarter cup more kibbles daily.

I'm thankful for those good people in Skid Row who look out for Ruby and me. Ruby has her schoolgirl figure back, I'm a better person and we both have guardian angels.

How sweet is that?