My name is Ghost!

Dear Diary,
It’s me again—Ghost. Still here. Still waiting.

Every night I curl up on the same kennel floor and dream the same dream: I’m riding shotgun in a big rig, the windows down, the wind in my fur, the road stretching out like a promise. Just me and my person, watching the sun rise over mountains and set behind desert skies. No loud noises, no chaos, no scary past—just peace, the hum of tires, and maybe a toy or two in the passenger seat.

I’m five years old now. I’ve seen some things, Diary. I came from a hoarding situation where I didn’t get to be a dog much. But I’m learning. I’ve learned that people can be kind, that belly rubs are magic, and that toys are actually incredible. I’ve got a few teeth missing, sure, but don’t let that fool you—I can eat like a champ and then some.

I don’t ask for much. Just a quiet life, maybe the front seat of a truck, and someone who gets me. I’d do best as your one-and-only sidekick—no kids, no other pets, just you and me against the world. I walk like a gentleman on leash, I’m house-trained, and I promise to love you in the quietest, most loyal way possible.

Can someone out there help me chase this trucker dream? 
Maybe you’ve got connections in the road warrior world. Maybe you know someone who drives solo and needs a soft-hearted co-pilot. Someone who’d let me stick my head out the window and feel like I belong somewhere at last.

Please, Diary… let this be the entry before everything changes. Let this be the one that gets me out of the kennel and onto the open road.

With love,
Ghost