Today my new Mom brought me back to the place that I called
home for a long time. It’s always so loud here with the other dogs competing
for the attention of the people that walk by our cages every day. I never wanted to come back, and I tried to be
my best for my new family. I guess it wasn’t good enough.
I can remember the first time I came to this loud
place. Before, I was in a loving home
where I was fed, sheltered, and loved. One
day I decided to leave my house and explore, but soon enough I was worried
about how to get back home. No matter how much I sniffed, I just couldn’t get
back to my lady with the pretty smile and who gave me treats when I listened to
her.
I lost track of the days wandering the streets near where I
thought my lady lived. I had to find food, and I needed to find her because I know she missed me. I tried to approach other people to ask where
to find her. I was polite and friendly
to them all but they didn’t care. All they saw was a big, black dog who had
seen better days. They all made angry
noises at me and some threw things to chase me away. Eventually, I quit trying to find my own home
because it seemed hopeless. Instead, I hid under bridges or porches, scavenged
for food, and ran away from the angry people that always seemed to be
around.
But one women was different. She had a nice smile like my
own lady and she came up talking to me in a pretty voice. She petted me and
talked to me before leashing me and leading me to one of those loud machines
that went by so quickly on the streets. Was I finally going home?
We drove for a while and the bumps and sways made me a bit sick,
but I was too excited to worry about it. All I could think of was my lady and
how much I wanted to see her again! Once the machine finally came to a stop, the
smiling woman opened the door on my dark cell, and I could see again. But it
didn’t look like home. It was bigger and so much louder than the happy place I
remembered. The woman tried to pull me down but I resisted, shrinking back into
the metal box.
I didn’t want to walk into the place with so many other dogs, but I
didn’t have a choice. The woman
knew I was scared so she picked me up and carried me all the way into a room.
She put me in another cage on the floor and left me there. All alone.
So these blogs are going to contain made-up histories? I can certainly see trying to garner compassion for the animals, but fiction isn't the way to go. Writing about their strengths, the things the staff sees in the animals, training they've received from the staff, would be preferable to fictional histories, IMHO.
ReplyDeleteWe post many factual pieces about dogs that need homes in other places. This is a blog written by foster moms and dads, rescuers, and staff members who want to do something a little different for the animals they love in hopes it will pique an adopter's or donor's interest and open up a dialogue. There have been several animals adopted already because of the stories on the blog. One woman ready Holly's story (which is quite silly and was written by her foster dad) to her small children who fell in love with the heroine of the little tale and convinced their mom to add her to their family. Thanks to his made up history that little pup found her way into their hearts and into their home. We do thank you for your input!
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