The Loyalty of A Dog

We see nothing but brick and cement. We smell nothing but anxiety, wetness, and dirt. We feel nothing but pain, coldness, and loneliness. We taste stale kibble and stagnant water. We hear nothing but whimpers and lost barks. Our barks merely echo down the same halls, disappearing for the world to miss.

But eventually, eventually we see something unforgettable.

We spend time in these cellars, like prisoners without a reason to be enclosed. We did nothing wrong, nothing that we can think of. Yet here we sit, trapped between three solid walls and those unforgettable bars. Bars, which we stick our noses through when we beg for the first few days, and bars that, become hopeless taunting reminders that we are prisoners, and no amount of begging will set us free.

At this point, we sit in the corner. We sit on our tails, as they wag no more. We feel our necks start to ache from our heads hanging. We have no reason to do anything but let our sad eyes trail after those people. Some people smell of this place. They wear matching outfits, they hardly glance our way because either they don't care, or they care too much. Then there are the people that smell of our dreams. They smell of grass and flowers, of baked goods, of plush toys and rubber balls – they smell of home. We watch these people most. These ones hold the key, but can only unlock one door.

We watch these people. We stare at them. Some of us are too tempted to resist moving to the front of the cage. Others, like I, like to sit in the corner and suppress our desires. We are too afraid to act happy, as it only seems to let us down, get us nowhere. We watch as the puppies are taken quickly, and the older dogs stay put. We watch time and time again as those puppies wiggle their butts harder, shine their eyes brighter, and infuse all the warmth possible into their movements. We no longer have those abilities, us older dogs. Time torments us. We don't have flexible bodies that allow us to be clumsy without trying. We don't have the same shine in our eyes, as the years have dulled them. We don't have the same hope as a pup. We have lost all faith, until that one moment finally approaches us.

There are people who will stop at our cages. I long for these people, for the ones who stick their hands faithfully to the side of the bars to test our courage. I stand for these people. I feel I can trust these people will allow me, if only for a moment, to feel warmth on my nose and cheek. These are the people who get to see us up close, who get to see the love we still have to share.

These people will set us free. After months of sitting lonely, we find someone who will always love us. We find that one person who will never drop us off in that place again. It is because of this type of person, that we can feel the world beneath our paws again.

Leaving the shelter is the beauty of the whole operation. It is when we can hop into a car and be told "good boy" for the first time in months. It is when we can ride beside someone who promises time and time again, "I'll never leave you, you're mine now." They keep this promise, those people who love us older dogs. They don't buy us for presents. They don't buy us to try a new experience. They buy us because they truly care.

When we can hop out of that car and feel grass beneath our paws for the first time in months, and we can sniff it and sneeze because of pollen rather than filth, we are home. When we can run in circles and no longer feel walls surrounding us, we are home. When we can jump into our master's lap at night and curl up, we are home. It is all of this that makes us shelter dogs so special – we learn to enjoy home to its capacity. We also love our master as if we were never hurt before. This is what makes dogs so special – we are always loyal.