“Those who are heartless once cared too much.” – Unknown


In my crate with the other puppies, I heard amazing stories of our futures to come. They starred little children with Christmas wishes, big red bows to hide a surprise, and silver brushes with bristles to soften dog’s coats. These picturesque stories were the basis of my puppyhood. Whenever I was picked on by the others for being small, for being the runt, for being the last to the nearly empty food bowl every day, my mind wandered and my spirit wondered: Is there a special family out there for me?

One day, after a long nap with my brothers and sisters, my eyes fluttered open and I was surprised to see piercing topaz, playful blue orbs staring back at me. I immediately felt a connection. This girl, this wonderful, caring girl would be my bridge from the land of the lost to the land of the found; I would finally have a home.

So, I put on a show, licking and pawing at her, aiming the puppy-dog eyes at her, worshipping the very ground on which she stood: and it worked! The girl picked me up in her arms, both of us aglow with the happiness of it all. That first day with my new family was exhilarating and will stay forever engraved onto my heart, just like my given name upon my collar.

That first week with my human left me in awe. I sampled new experiences, feasted on ripe emotions (such as joy, longing, jealousy, and pleasure). However, like all great feasts, it ended and I was only left with the memories of the platter, the life I had once had.

Suddenly, it was as if I had never existed. Instead of receiving carefully mixed and mashed goodies in the mornings, my breakfast was replaced with hard, crumbly rocks. My daily petting and brushing dwindled down to four times a week, twice a week, once, then never. My owners never had time for me anymore, and I watched them go about their lives, through the confines of a black fence, as I basked in the shade of the oak trees in my backyard. I was neglected, lonely, and heartbroken.

Occasionally, I would attempt to get my master’s attention, for no matter how many times she forgot about me, I never forgot her; my love for her was unconditional. Ruff, ruff, I would bark, but these hopeful cries were either ignored, or met with severe consequences. Any attempt on my part to communicate with them was rewarded with a painful shock by my new collar, a collar quite a contrast to my former pink, sparkly, lovingly engraved one. Sometimes, I would find a squirrel or chipmunk to catch as a gift for my beloved, but she only threw it out, thanking me with harsh words, instead of a “good dog”. The days went by and I begin to mature, not with love, but with anger: to grow apart from my family. This

once energetic puppy was now fatigued and depressed, turning away at any offer of friendship, man or dog.

One day, I woke up and could not find my master. I put my nose to the ground and sniffed, I put my nose to the cold fence and looked, but her whole family’s scent was stale, and their stuff was gone. They had left me. Days went by with no food or water or love or care or family. Family. My heart ached for them, but I knew it was time to move on. So, I tunneled under the fence, off in search of my own food and water and shelter, and was eventually picked up by a van with scary men. They took me to a crowded place where I was given what I needed to survive, but not what I REALLY needed: they could not restore the hope or love I now lacked. I have been there for some time.

The masters, the ones looking for animals of THEIR own, pass by my enclosure every day. They think I do not comprehend their comments and insults, but I do. Oh, I do, and each one is a new barb in my flesh, a friendly reminder that I AM NOT LOVED. They think I don’t comprehend, don’t read the look in their eyes as they behold my sad drooping eyes and aging body. Now, I don’t wait for the day when a family will come and rescue me from this prison. Who would want me?

Dozing off in my small enclosure, I dream of a former, happier time. Still in a drowsy state my eyelids open, and my ears prick up at the curious question: “This one mommy, can I have it? Pleeeeaaasee?” and two blue, childlike eyes staring at me through the gate. At that moment I felt the spark of hope for something I have been lacking for a long time: a family.