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I had a wonderful dog, Bootie, who was my constant companion for 12 years until she died at age 14. I knew it wasn’t possible to replace someone you love, but I also knew I wanted to get another dog to share my life. So my husband, Charlie, and I began talking about what kind of dog to adopt. I had wanted a “Benji dog” for years, ever since watching the Benji movies. We both agreed that a small dog is easier to take places, and she would need to be small to ride on my kayak as Bootie had done. So we made our first trip to the Borough Animal Shelter.
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Walking up and down the aisle in front of the dog kennels we were greeted by barking and wagging dogs, all clamoring for our attention and love. It was a heart-breaking scene that reminded me of the musical, Annie, where all the little orphans would line up eagerly to be inspected by any prospective adopters, and then slink away with disappointment written all over them when they were passed by.
We saw big dogs and little dogs, some that had been left by their owners for various reasons and some that had been picked up along the road. All of them had only a few days to either be claimed by their owners or adopted by someone new or else be euthanized.
Looking into the eyes of each dog, I silently asked what had happened for them to end up there. They were all friendly, loving, and eager to be with people. How had people let them down so that they were all only days from death?
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At the very end of the long row of dogs, there was a small, white dog standing in the back of his kennel, not paying any attentio | | | |
