Michael and Macushla

Michael, 60, has a way of remembering exact dates.

It was on January 23, 2020 when he adopted Macushla, his long-haired furry best friend that everyone in the church courtyard stopped to pet. Michael rescued her from a shelter in Riverside near where he was living and helping to care for his father, a tribal member and resident of the Pala Indian Reservation. Michael had been working in Las Vegas for the previous 16 years as a busboy for some of the higher end restaurants in the casinos. He even belonged to the culinary union. Ironically one of the restaurants where he worked was the same resort where his father at one time worked on the golf course as a groundskeeper. But when Michael’s step-mother died, “another victim of the opioid epidemic,” Michael said, his father went into a downward spiral, so he left his job and moved with his father. His father had another caregiver as well, from a professional nursing organizations, so Michael felt that between the two of them his father would be in good hands. At one point, however, according to Michael, his brother convinced tribal leaders that Michael was neglecting their father and that he didn’t deserve to be living on the reservation.

Michael said he felt his brother was resentful that he had a good relationship with their father, but that shouldn’t be considered his fault. Their father had been a “mean drunk,” Michael said, “but in 1990 he got sober. And part of the process is you make amends with the people that you have offended.” Michael chose to forgive him, but his sister, brother and mother did not. “God brought me forgiveness,” he said, “and that’s why (my brother) had me kicked off the reservation. He’s just hateful.”

Perhaps his ability to connect with his father and offer forgiveness was his own relationship with alcohol. Regarding himself as a “late bloomer” in all things, Michael said he didn’t start drinking until he was 36. Alcoholism is progressive, he noted. It’s something that sneaks up on you over time. He got sober with help from Alcoholics Anonymous and his father. “It was March 28, 2011,” he said - another date he remembers well. “I’m coming up on 14 years at the end of this month.”

When he left his father’s house he came to live with his sister and brother-in-law in San Diego. Things went well initially, he said, but his sister kept creating more rules on his stay there. After a few weeks she told him to move out and started dragging out of the kennel she was sitting in. “My sister’s drug is control,” he said. Animal cruelty is Michael’s trigger, so he called the police. When the police got there, they told him he had a legal right to live there, but it was up to him as to what to do. He remembers yelling, “I’d rather be homeless than live with them.” So, police waited there, allowing him to safely collect all the belongings he could carry. He walked out to the sidewalk with his dog and cat, not sure which way to go. His neighbor, who had always been kind to him, realized what was happening and told him to grab the shopping cart that was sitting empty in the alley. It was at that moment, with a cart full of belongings, he realized he was now homeless.

He turned left, which led him to the intersection of El Cajon Blvd. and College Ave. “I’d never even dreamed of being homeless and there I was. At first it was a shock when I ended up on the street. But we’re all only one step away whether we realize it or not.” It was like the movie The Fisher King, he added. (he’s a serious movie buff of cult classics). “I didn’t end u p on the street because of drugs or alcohol. I’m a peaceful person. My teachers always checked the box “plays well with others.” He spent that first night “like everyone does,” sitting upright on a bus bench because there were dividers on the bench that kept a person from lying down.

Eventually people started leaving him blankets and pet food. He thinks having a dog and cat was a way for people to make a connection with him. “God took care of us. Everybody who helped us out were from every race. It was beautiful for God to show up in so many different people. God is love.”

One day a lady in a red Mercedes pulled over and offered to help him find a foster home for his cat, which she did. At the same time, the woman got on her computer and found an outreach worker with PATH to meet Michael and start the process of finding shelter and other services for him. After he’d spent about nine months on the street, the outreach worker was able to get him into the B Lot. “The shelter has a few problems, but when you’re bringing the street into a homeless shelter, of course there are problems, so I learned what to stay quiet and when to speak up.”

He eventually was moved to the O Lot where he gets breakfast and dinner every day and access to showers and laundry. He is working with a volunteer from the legal aid nonprofit Think Dignity to get replacements for the birth certificate and other identification that had been lost or stolen. During the day he walks to all the places downtown where he can get other meals, clothing, and pet supplies for Macushka. He still gets triggered when someone threatens his dog. Currently, there is a homeless man with a white shepherd who allowed his dog to bite Macushka, so Michael hit the guy. Police were familiar with the man, his bad attitude and his shepherd. Michael hopes he never has to run into him again. He just wants to live peacefully, and maybe get housing some time soon.