He came to me because he barked all night.

When I adopted him, the man handed me a bottle of pills.

“Give him these to stop his barking,” he said.

I looked at him and politely took the pills as Benny climbed into the back of my Outback. We had two hours to drive home and get to know each other. As soon as we got home, I threw away the bottle of pills and said to him, “Go Bark.”

For two days I kept him on a leash. Great Pyrenees are known to roam or go looking for their old homes. I wanted him to stay. We walked around my canyon. He was on a long leash so he could wander a bit and sniff everything. Every weed and rock invited his nose to the ground.

On the third day I left the garage door open. He saw it open and ran for freedom. I called him home. He went straight for the gate at the bottom of the hill. I kept calling but he kept running. Then he slid to a stop, turned to the right and quickly covered the base of the west canyon wall. Then he crossed the pasture and covered the base of the east canyon wall. He ran back to me smiling, excited, his tail uncontrollable.

“Is it all mine?” I thought he was asking me.

“It’s all yours Benny, this is your home, forever.” I said to him.

And it’s been his for years now. Even the rainbow is his.