This Is The One

It's no surprise the ones like me stay locked up the longest. I have the potential to pull someone to the ground with little effort. I also, more knowingly, have the potential to inflict wounds. But, with or without the potential, does it matter if it's not what I ever intended to do? The sad reality for me, and those like me is, while we have the potential to hurt, we don't have the potential to prove we can love. No, we don't have that at all – that was taken away from us many years ago.

Those like me sit in a cage. Why? I'm not sure exactly. Perhaps it was my strong pull on the leash, or maybe it was the fact that I squished the last human who owned me while I sat on her lap and nudged my head under her chin demanding some affection. Am I too demanding? Is that my problem? It takes a stranger to release us from this prison we've been sucked into. A stranger who doesn't see the outside of us, a stranger who will take the time to look us in the eyes and see that all we want is freedom and a good home.

But when you're like me, there are many strangers who walk by, see the muscular frame, and walk right on past. There are even some who step back as they pass my cage while I desperately poke my nose through the metal. This attempt is obviously not a working one as all it does is wears my fur down on my nose. Some mistaken it as a fighting wound, others just look at that worn down spot and duck away.

"That dog must be trouble." They will say. They will say this as I dance around in my cage when they approach. They will say this as I ignore my food to watch them pass by. They will say this when I rip out of the cage for a visit. Do they not recognize desperation?

And then out of nowhere, after weeks of exhaustion trying to find a way to please them, one will come up to the cage of ones like me and sit down. They will sit and stare right into my eyes and they will have the saddest look on their face before I will wag my tail and they will smile sympathetically. They will grab a volunteer and ask to see me and they will not back away when I plunge out of my cage and violently wag my tail at them. They will not back away when we are placed in a solitary room to visit and I push my head against their legs as they gently pet my back.

Instead they will remain calm. They will sit down and get level with me and let me lick their face, begging for them to be the one. They will laugh as I accidentally shove them over, unaware of my own strength, and they will easily get back up and tell me between their giggling to settle down. They will tap on the glass for the volunteer to return and they will say

"This is the one."

That is the one we're all waiting for – the perfect stranger who sees something in us no one else can see.