Brighter Days Ahead

This is not a place of joy. Nobody ever smiles here unless it is their time to leave. Everyone is restricted to their cramped quarters and kept to themselves. Visitors? You can forget visitors. No one knows you are here, and no one cares. Any memories you had of family or friends from before become foggy and eventually disappear altogether after enough time in this place.

              Making friends usually does not happen either. You are not allowed near each other for fear of a fight breaking out, even if you are small and weak and could not win a fight on your best day. Typically, mealtime is the only socialization you get, and the quality of the company leaves something to be desired. Sometimes you get a curt, “Hello,” but most often, you just get a grunt and your food shoved in your cell unceremoniously.

              When someone does finally make it out of here, you find it hard to be happy for them because it should be your turn. You have been good; don’t people get let out on good behavior all the time? Apparently not you. You sit and think about what you might have done wrong; maybe you should have attempted to be nice to the person who feeds you instead of hiding in the corner of your cell. Maybe you should have tried being nicer to the person you passed in the hallway on one of your rare ventures out of your cell.

              You tell yourself that you will work harder than ever to earn your freedom. You will keep yourself cleaner; eat all your meals without complaining about the quality of the food. Letting you out on good behavior will be the least they can do for you. There is no chance of failure this week.

              Except this week passes like any other. You do not get out. The same meal is given day in and day out. Nothing changes. You start to get angry and impatient. You have done everything right; why are you still stuck here? When you do get to interact with others, you become snappy and aggressive from the isolation. Whispers come from down the hall; you are now on the list.

              You do not want to be on the list. Those who get on the list almost never get off it and they can forget about getting out of here. They leave by the back door and never come back. Fear takes over, and now all you can do is cower in the corner and cry. You stop eating your meals and when someone comes by to take you out for a short walk down the hallway, you barely walk ten steps before trying to bolt back to your cell.

              The whispers start getting louder now. They are openly talking about the list, and your name is now on it. A card is placed on your cell, letting everyone else know about your now precarious status. This cannot be happening. You do not understand; how did things get this far out of control?

              You do not know it, but you are on another list; this time a good one. Someone out there has heard your story by the grace of God and wants to help free you. While you are giving up hope, this person is gathering an army of good-hearted people who want to save you and many others in the same predicament as you. Money is being raised, transport is being arranged, and your freedom is now within your reach.

              There is a race against time out there happening for your freedom right now. The people who have come together for you and put you on their good list are now trying to work against and beat the people who have put you on the bad list. Your friends are being told that you are fearful; no amount of rehabilitation is going to make you a functioning member of society, but they are not listening. They know that deep down underneath all the trauma you have suffered, you are good, and you can be saved.

              Today is the day, though you do not know it yet. Breakfast comes at the same time, but this will be the last time you will eat a meal in this cold, dark place. You will never have to sleep on your ratty blanket on the damp, hard floor. That cough you have had for at least two weeks will be treated and you will feel better than you have in weeks. You will finally know love.

              They come to your cell, and you think they are here for your walk down the hallway, so you do not leave your spot in the corner. The person who is speaking to you has a warm, gentle voice. You have heard nothing like it before. Feeling anxious but now curious, you leave your corner and come out into the light where they can see you. For the first time in forever, your tail wags just a little bit and you let out a whine as you inch closer to your soon to be rescuer.

               She coos to you, and you can feel your fear and anxiety melt away as she pats your head softly and itches under your too-tight collar. You have been dying to get that spot but could never quite satisfy that itch, so you lean into her hand and groan, which makes her laugh. What a glorious sound! Laughter sounds like music to you, and you instantly love and trust this person with your life.

              She clips a leash onto your collar and calls for you to follow her. She calls you Buddy, a name you have never heard before, but you like it because she gave it to you. You can smell something in her jacket pockets, a faint but familiar smell, so you stick your nose in there to investigate and find something so wonderful you think you must be dreaming. A Milkbone, just for you! She gives you two of them and scratches behind your ears, calling you a “good boy.” Finally, someone who sees you for the good boy you are.

              You walk past all the other kennels, head held high because you know that today is the first day of your new life. This woman, whoever she is, is going to save you. More dogs on leashes join you and your new friend in the lobby, and paperwork is filled out while you make friends with all the newly rescued dogs who have an angel just like you.

              Finally, it’s time to go. The big glass doors in the lobby scare you a little, so you sit down and refuse to move. You whine a little and look up with fear-filled eyes. Some encouraging words and scratches behind the ears reassure you. Nothing can hurt you while she is here. She opens the glass doors and you walk out, right into the bright summer day and into your new life.