Meet Barton
I first saw him nine years ago at Pasadena Humane. He was in the very last row of kennels—just him and one other dog in separate runs. At the time, I wasn’t even sure I wanted another dog. I had lost my heart dog just six months earlier, the one I raised from a puppy until he was 13 ½ years old. My heart was still raw, and I didn’t think I was ready. But my best friend convinced me to just go look.
I was walking past the kennels when I saw his big, beautiful amber eyes staring right at me. There was something about the way he looked at me—like he was waiting. I asked to meet him, and one of your volunteers brought him into your little yard for meetings. His name wasn’t even Barton back then—he wasn’t given a name yet, he just had a number on a tag. The volunteers told me they didn’t know much about him. He’d been seen eating out of a dumpster, and it took them three days to catch him. They weren’t sure where he came from, but because he was potty trained, they suspected someone had dumped him. The second we met, something clicked. It wasn’t dramatic or flashy—it just fit. I knew right then I wanted him.
I filled out the paperwork that same day and gave him a name with meaning: Barton—after Clint Barton (Marvel’s Hawkeye) and Trowa Barton from Gundam Wing. Two characters who are quiet, loyal, and strong, even if they don’t say much. Barton is all of that to me. He’s my superhero—because as much as I rescued him, he saved me first. We’ve moved across the country together—from California to Wisconsin. Now he has his own house, a big backyard, and more toys and treats than he probably needs. And me? I’ve had nine years of loving him every single day.
He became my everything. Thank you guys for my precious boy. The picture is of Barton lying out on his balcony of the house, staring out over his backyard and the nearby river.
