Ramon had put the dog's bowls in the laundry room, between the kitchen and the back porch. As soon as he'd filled both of them, the animal dug in as if it hadn't eaten in far too long. Yet he didn't look undernourished, no ribs were showing, and it didn't appear to be sick in any way.
He leaned against the washer and watched until all the food was gone and most of the water. He refilled the water bowl, then opened the back door.
"Come see the backyard, boy," he told the dog, walking down the porch steps.
The dog followed, padding along on its slightly large paws.
Ramon wondered how many different breeds were mixed in the animal's heritage. It didn't resemble any dog he'd ever seen before and he'd seen plenty. He thought about calling Brenda to give her a heads up, then decided he'd wait until he went to pick her up. By that time, the animal would have settled in and he was sure she'd just accept it. Especially if it turned out to be well-behaved.