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Sam + Tank
I walked down the hallways of the animal shelter, thinking that today would be another day I would go home empty-handed. Well, I suppose that I wasn't entirely
walking, I was more
trudging. All of the dogs barked and whimpered, trying to get my attention. Some sat, shivering, in the corner of their cages, looking around with frightened eyes, like they couldn't figure out how they got there or why they were there.
I sighed. These dogs, these beautiful, sweet, intelligent dogs, were completely unaware and oblivious to their fates. If they didn't get adopted within one to two months of being in the shelter, depending on their condition or history, they would be euthanized. While they would drift off into doggy dreams and never wake up, the vets were wasting lives. I often sit and think if they had kept the dogs alive one more day, just
one more day, maybe the perfect owner would have come in, and left, upset, because their perfect dog wasn't there.
My eyes glanced between the dogs, landing on each individual one. I was almost to the end of the kennels, looking for the perfect dog. There were spaniels, Newfoundlands, labs, pit bulls, Chihuahuas, and many others, including mixed breeds. I wasn't currently looking for any specific breeds, just the dog that has the most perfect feel.
Suddenly my eyes landed on a black dog, sleeping in his cage. I walked over to the kennel and crouched down next to it and gazed at the dog. The dog slowly opened its eyes and yawned before carefully standing up. He wagged his tail and walked over to the cage, and licked my fingers. I rubbed his nose and watched him look up at me with a confused yet loving expression. He looked to be about a lab, obviously mixed with something, though I couldn't tell what that something was.
An employee walked by and noticed the way I was looking at the dog. She stopped by us and mused, "That's Tank. He was rescued last week when his owner was seen beating him in the driveway of a local church. One of our employees were there and she yelled at the owner, called Animal Control, received custody of the dog and got the owner arrested for a few years. He had some dead dogs in his house; we discovered upon investigation. After some fairly careful research we discovered that the reason they had died was because of trauma; also known as beating."
I gasped after listening to her story. "That's so tragic!" I cried. She nodded.
"Very." Biting her lip, she looked down at Tank. "Well, um, I saw you looking at Tank, and I've seen you in here a few times, and you always leave... with empty hands." She began wringing her hands slowly. "Would you like to... um, adopt him?"
I nodded without thinking. "Please!" Suddenly I realized what I had done-- I also realized that this dog was
the dog. The employee smiled at me and said in a cheerful voice, "Alright, please follow me." I smiled as I stood up and hesitantly began following her, as if someone else was going to take him and force me to leave empty-handed, with a sinking feeling, like before.
We reached a small room, where I had to sit for a few minutes and fill out some paperwork and forms to confirm my adoption. After about seven minutes, I handed the paperwork to the woman and she nodded as she read over my answers and confirmations. Nodding and smiling, the lady lead me back over to Tank. Another woman was sitting on the ground while her small child tried playing with the dog. The woman that had had me fill out the forms smiled and shook her head.
The other woman looked up and smiled. "We'd like this one, please." I bit my lip as the employee sighed, smiled, and gently explained, "I'm sorry, but this dog is already taken."
The woman frowned and began speaking, "I'd like to let you know that this is a fine dog. I'll offer twice as much as the other taker; besides, Tyler seems to love him already." She pointed at her young son as he pressed his face against the cage while Tank licked his chubby cheeks.
The employee again shook her head. Impatiently she said, "You're not going to get him; this is her dog." She pointed at me, narrowing her eyes at the lady. The woman narrowed her eyes as well as she stood up and glared at me, and grabbed her kid's hand. "Come, Tyler. We'll go look at the
good puppies."
I almost snarled at her for calling my dog a bad choice just because she didn't get it. The employee laughed as she strutted away. She smiled as she picked up a leash that was hanging on a nook next to the kennel. She gently called Tank out after opening his crate door. Tank began jumping around, and barking and trying to lick my face. I laughed as the employee looped the leash around his head and handed it to me. "Here you are." She smiled. I took the leash, then bent down and stroked Tank's head gently. The employee patted Tank one last time and told me to take him home and give him lots of love. I smiled and turned, and walked out of the shelter with Tank trailing behind. I climbed into my car when we were in the parking lot, and I let him into the back seat.
When I got home I let him explore as I prepared some special cookies, specifically made for dogs. I left the cookies and went to the living room to find Tank laying on the couch. His tail wagged when he noticed me walk in, and he jumped off of the couch and over to where I was standing. I crouched down to pet him, and he licked my face. I smiled.
I finally found the perfect dog.
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Gah. That's all I have to say.
Gah.
