20/12/2025
The People in the Parking Lot.
The tent families are hard. But for me, the car families are harder.
The blankets and pieces of cardboard that come out at dark, blocking the windows for whatever privacy they can provide. Dinner. Diaper changes. Bedtime story telling. The sort of moments normally lived without everyone watching.
But before dark, you see it all.
The one eyed pug snoozing while laying upside down on a blanket next to a cat cinnamon rolled tight while in between the two of them a little girl reading to herself from a book filled with pictures that do not include families in cars.
They were one of the six families with pets in the parking lot by the highway. They were safe there. That’s what mattered. We were only planning to meet one family, with a dog. That’s what the caseworker asked us about.
Could we bring dog food for that one dog.
But when we got there, the others were already lined up waiting. The caseworker apologized that there were more people needing help. We asked why she didn’t tell us. She said she feared if there were too many, we wouldn’t show up at all.
Luckily we try to prepare for the best, not the worst. And for us, preparing for the best means having more than we might need. Just in case.
We had dog food and cat food and litter and litter boxes and leashes and harnesses and collars and food bowls and more. And then we had diapers and bottled water and shelf stable foods and pudding cups because pudding cups. The list was long because there was no plan. It was just bring what we might need, because we’ve been in situations like this before.
No matter what we have, it’s never enough. But it’s a start.
The box of children’s books. We had those too. Because if there’s little kids, then there shall be books. And flashlights. And batteries. And someone had given us an old fashioned transistor radio. Not as old fashioned as I grew up with, but the kind that still made some static when you turned the k**b.
We had sleeping bags and blankets and little tuck in tight dog beds and tiny feet kid socks and hygiene kits and I’m going to stop there because the more I list the more I realize it will never be enough.
We were there for dog food. Everything else was the bonus.
When you arrive you see a small circle of folks waiting, even though they don’t know exactly what they are waiting for. That’s hard. Harder for them though, and that’s why we’re there. Because when we leave, we want their lives to feel a little bit lighter. Even if just for that moment. And if a Thomas the Tank Engine sleeping bag can help make that possible, then hooray, because that’s a good day.
In those moments we can never do enough for one another. At least that’s how it feels. But we have to call it good. The point is, even though it seemed like those families needed everything, they didn’t have a place to put everything. So you do what you can with what you have and you hope for the best because there are no closets or basements or under bed storage cubbies to stash extra things.
The caseworker who was there, she exuded a level of empathy that went beyond. Hard to describe in words. But there was something extra special about her. I told her that. I told her that the families were really lucky to have someone like her on their side. That wherever her gift to help came from, it was quite a gift.
I could tell she was not comfortable with compliments. She simply said that many years earlier, it was her and her Mom in one of those cars. And no one will ever know how much love there was, but she remembers it well.
And for each one of those she helps now, she wants to make sure they remember that love too.
“What do we live for, if it is not to make life less difficult for each other?” – George Eliot
For the People in the Parking Lot.
And this is why we Pongo.
Sit. Stay. Eat. Live.
thepongofund.org
The Pongo Fund / Portland, OR