Rescue Literature

Someday, people will care

I wish I didn't have to volunteer at the animal shelter. I wish there weren't millions of animals without homes in America. If Americans were more responsible, I wouldn't have to volunteer. Maybe, if Americans were more compassionate and kind, no one would have to volunteer at the shelter. Perhaps if people understood the stories of the dogs and cats at the shelter, more people would adopt.

My name is Sissy. I am a border collie. My people bought me from a pet shop eight months ago. When I came home, I acted like a normal puppy. I chewed shoes, stole socks, and pottied on the floor.
At first, my humans laughed when I stole socks, and were gentle in their corrections when I pottied on the floor. They never took me to a trainer, and they never took the time to teach me right from wrong. How was I supposed to know that I had to potty outside? If they had only taught me, I would have done my best.

I thought they liked it when I stole their socks; they always laughed before. I stole the socks only to entertain them, I didn't mean to make them angry.

They said I was "untrainable." They said they thought border collies were supposed to be smart. I am smart! If I had only known, I could still be at home. Now, my people dumped me here. The floors are as cold as ice, and not at all soft like the floor at home. There are big cages everywhere, and the many smells confuse me. I am scared and alone. The dog beside me has been here a few weeks. She says I'll be okay, and maybe a new family will take me to their home. I hope a new family wants me. I'll do better next time.

The poor pup beside me is scared. I keep telling her it'll be fine, but the truth is, I don't know if it will.

My name is Sadie, and I am a black lab. When my mom first bought me she took me everywhere. She taught me tricks, gave me treats, and showed me off to her friends. We were inseparable until she got pregnant. She had less and less time for me, and I found myself alone almost all day.

When the baby was born, I was kept outside all day, alone again. When they let me in at night, I was kept in the utility room, away from the family.
I do not hate the baby, though, and I don't blame her for what her parents did. I remember the first time I saw her; I thought she looked funny and wrinkly, but I loved her. If given the chance, I think we could have been best friends.

My life continued this way, my long days always spent alone, until the baby was four years old.
When she grew older, they began coming outside to play. Oh, how excited I was! I would run in a figure eight pattern around the yard, jumping and barking with every turn.

Once, the child crossed to the middle of the yard, right in the path of my figure eight. In my excitement, I accidentally knocked her over. They stopped coming outside to play after that.
A few months later, they brought me here. They said the child was afraid of me. She had no reason to be afraid; I loved her like my own pup.

My name is Jake; I'm a golden retriever. My people bought me twelve years ago. For twelve years I was loyal to them and stayed by their side. I comforted them in their sorrow, made them laugh when they were angry. I loved them and gave them all I had to offer. I would have died for them, and I thought they loved me too.

I heard them talk of moving, and I was excited. I am old, but I am not dead, and I love new places.
They began boxing up all their belongings, and I followed the children around, tail wagging.
When we all piled into the car I was thrilled, I love car rides.

My family didn't talk happily as I expected them to, and Dad wouldn't meet my eyes.
When we arrived here, I was uneasy. This place smells of sorrow, fear, and despair. There were many dogs barking and whining. I knew there was nothing to be afraid of with my family here, so I willingly continued inside with them. Dad talked with a lady behind the counter, and handed my leash to her. As she began to lead me away, I panicked. No! They weren't leaving me here!
The child, Ashley, began to cry and call my name. Frantically, I tried to get to her, barking, pulling, and lunging wildly. She needs me! Couldn't they hear her?

The lady with my leash in her hand whispered, "I'm so sorry" and put me in this metal prison. I am alone, cold, abandoned, heartbroken, and afraid.

My name is Brittany, and I am a shelter worker. I walk down the rows of dogs and hear their cries, and I wonder how people can just abandon their pets.

I see Sissy, she has so much potential, but will she ever get a chance?

I see Sadie, all she wants is to be loved and cared for, but will anyone love her and treat her the way she deserves?

Finally, I see Jake. How anyone can just abandon his or her pets after twelve years is incomprehensible to me. He has been a faithful companion, and they threw his life away.
I stop at Jake's cage. He looks at me with dead eyes, barely lifting his head. As I open the door, he stands up slowly. He seems to have aged several years in the short days he's been here. I lead him out of his cage, and we stand and face the end of the dark hall together.

The heavy metal doors at the end of the hall are dark and foreboding; but they are our destination. I guide him toward those heavy doors, as I have done for so many dogs so many times before. I speak softly to him, and apologize for the irresponsibility and heartlessness of humans.
I open the door that has been relentlessly calling his name. We walk in, the room is brightly lit in an effort to hide the terrible reason it exists, and our eyes take a moment to adjust.

I lead him toward the center of the room and allow him to lie down as the shelter veterinarian takes out her syringe.

I sit with Jake, and talk softly to him. He will not die alone. I tell him he is loved, and I apologize again, ashamed of the selfishness of the human race. He doesn't flinch as the shot is given; he just lays his head on my lap, his spirit broken.
I watch the life slowly fade out of Jake, stroking him as his steady breath becomes shallow, then stops.

With one final pat, and with tears pouring down my face, I promise him someday things will be different. Someday, people will care.

~~Author unknown

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