Interview at the Dog
Pound
As a journalist, I decided to go to the dog
pound, and interview
some of the "inmates". I wanted to know what it was
like in there
from their perspective. What follows is not for the faint of
heart.
I entered the building, and one of the workers
accompanied me to the
holding area. This is where dogs are kept before they
are allowed up
for adoption… IF they are allowed up for adoption. If the
dogs are
found to be aggressive in any way, euthanasia is employed.
Fortunately, if "fortunately" is the word to be used here… this is a
Canadian establishment, and they use lethal injection, not a gas
chamber.
The pound worker led me past a big steel door
that says "Employees
Only". "What is in there?" I asked. From the look he
gave me, I knew
that this is where dogs go in, and never return.
We moved on to a row of kennels. The dogs were
barking loudly, there
was the acrid smell of urine and feces, and a feeling
of despair
seemed to permeate the room.
"Go ahead," the worker said. "They're all
yours."
Pete
I looked into the first kennel, and saw only the
back of a medium
sized dog who was curled up in the corner of his kennel,
shivering.
He was mostly white, with some black spots. "Hello?" I said. "May
I
come in?" He lifted his head, as though it weighed more than he
could
bear. When he looked at me, I could see he was a Pitbull. His
eyes were
gentle, but filled with grief.
"Enter," was all he said.
I stepped in, closing the gate behind me. He put
his head back down,
facing away from me. I crouched down a few feet away.
"My name is Pete. Petey my Master called me," he
said, still not
looking at me.
"Why are you here Pete?" I
asked.
"I am here because Master cannot afford to move
to another province.
I am here because someone with power said I am vicious,
and a
killer. Someone who never met me. Master took me for a walk one day,
and some lady started to scream when she saw me. I got frightened,
and
barked at her. The dog police came, and they took me away. I
have been with
Master for 10 years. The last time I saw him, he just
held me and cried. He
kept telling me he was sorry. I worry for him.
Whatever will he do without
me?" Pete shivered even more.
A tear slid down my face. I am supposed to
remain objective, but
this was wrong… so wrong.
"Thank you Pete." I said. He said nothing as I
got up and left his
kennel.
Popper
The kennel next to Pete's held a very young
looking dog. Pure Border
Collie by my guess. He stood on his hind legs,
looking at me through
the gate.
"Hello. My name's Popper. He tilted his head.
"Are you here to take
me home?"
"No, I'm sorry," I replied. "But I would like to
talk with you."
"Sure. What would you like to talk
about?"
"Popper, how did you come to be in this place?"
I asked.
Popper dropped down from the gate, with a
perplexed look on his
face. He walked to the back of the kennel, then back
to the front. I
noticed he had one blue eye, and one brown. He was quite
beautiful.
His black and white coat was shiny and
thick.
"I am not certain WHY I am here. I think maybe
my family will come
back for me. They bought me when I was only 6 weeks old.
I remember
they said how smart Border Collies are, and how it would be so
easy
to train me. They were very excited at first. The little ones played
with me all the time. But the trouble with little Masters is, they
refuse to stay in a group. I constantly had to nip their heels to
keep
them together." He looked confused. "Why won't they stay in a
group?" he
sighed. "So I did what I thought I should do. I am not
quite sure why the
little ones screamed when I did my job, but they
did, and the Masters got
very angry at me. They also got angry when
I had to relieve myself, and did
so in the house. I am not sure
where they expected me to go. All they said
was that I was the
smartest breed in the world, and I should just KNOW
better. Then
they left me in the yard for a month or so. I got bored a lot,
and I
dug holes in the grass. The next thing I knew, the Masters brought
me here."
Popper jumped back up on the gate, his white
paws protruding through
the links. He looked at me with his lovely eyes, and
asked "Will you
please let them know I want to come home? Please tell them I
promise
I will be good?"
"I will Popper," I said.
Spartan
My heart was breaking. I was beginning to regret
coming here, but
their stories had to be told. I moved along. The next dog I
saw
looked to be easily 100 lbs., a Rottweiler. He was handsome indeed,
except for the scars on his face and back. He tilted his head, and
looked me right in the eyes.
"Hello. Who are you?" he
asked.
"I am a reporter," I replied. "May I speak with
you for a little
while?"
"Most certainly. My name is Spartan. You can
come in, I won't bite,"
he said.
"Thank you Spartan. I
will."
I entered his kennel, reached out and stroked
his giant head. He
made a loud grumbling noise, and closed his eyes.
"Spartan, why are you here?"
Before he could answer my question, he was
suddenly in the grip of a
nasty coughing spasm. It sounded painful.
"Please excuse me," he said when it passed.
"Kennel cough. It seems
all of us who come in here get it.
"Why am I
here? Well, about two years ago, I was born in the
backyard of some person I
can't even recall. I had 11 brothers and
sisters. I recall a day when a big
man came and gave that person
some money, and took me away from my mother.
They had to chain her
up, as she was very angry that he took me. They
chained her and beat
her. I came to know the man by the name of Jim. I
overheard him
telling his friends that I would grow up to be big and mean
like my
mother. But as I grew older, all I wanted to do was play and be
friends with everyone. Jim said I needed to be taught how to be
mean, so
he chained me up in the yard. No more house for me, he
said, I was too
spoiled. When people came by to visit, I was so
happy to see them. I wanted
them to come and play. But that made Jim
angry, so he beat me with sticks
and chains. When he came near, I
would roll onto my back so he would know I
wasn't a bad dog. That
made him beat me more." Spartan's eyes clouded with
grief. "Then he
brought me here."
I reached out and stroked Spartan's massive
gentle head once
more. "I am so sorry Spartan. Some people are just plain
evil." I
gave him a kiss and left his kennel.
As I walked away, Spartan called out, "What will
happen to me, nice
lady?"
I shook my head. "I can't say Spartan. Maybe
someone kind will come
and get you. We can only hope."
Patsy
I walked a little further down. I could see a
shape moving at the
back of the next kennel. "Hello?" I called out. Suddenly
the shape
lunged at the gate in a fury, barking and gnashing its teeth. I
stumbled backwards, and crashed into an adjacent kennel. The other
dogs
began barking loudly and jumping at their gates.
"Don't go near her," a small female voice came
from behind
me. "She's mad."
I gathered myself back together, and saw a
little Jack Russell
Terrier behind me.
"Thanks for the warning," I was still trembling.
Across the way, the
other dog, apparently a Husky and German Shepherd cross,
was glaring
at me, lips curled back revealing brown stained teeth. Her ribs
and
hips showed through her dull, matted grey coat.
The little dog
invited me into her kennel, and I gladly went in.
"Who are you?"
"My name is Patsy." The little brown and white
dog held a paw up to
the gate in greeting.
"My owner surrendered me. She said she wanted a
cute little dog like
the one on the TV show, Frasier. She didn't bother to
look into the
type of dog I am." Patsy heaved a sigh.
"I suppose she expected me to just lie about and
only need a short
walk each day, just like Eddie, but my energy was so high
that I
needed to run and play." She glanced at her surroundings. "Now I am
here. I suppose it could be worse. I could be like…her." Patsy
looked
towards the still growling dog across the way.
"What happened to make her so vicious?" I
asked.
"From what we could gather," she replied. "she
was found tied in a
back yard. She only had a three foot chain. Some days
there was no
water. Rarely was there any food. One day a nice neighbour came
by
and brought her some meat. By then it was too late. She was already
mad. She broke off her chain, and bit the poor man badly. We know
she
will be going behind the steel door. I am sad to say, I think it
will be
best. Perhaps then she will know some peace."
Just then, the door at the end of the building
opened, and a woman
stepped inside. All the dogs began to bark wildly, then
one by one,
they went quiet.
I whispered to Patsy, "Who is that? Why have all
the dogs gone
quiet?"
Patsy breathed deeply through her little nose,
and closed her
eyes. "SHE is a Rescuer. Can't you smell it?" she
asked.
"Smell what?" I was
confused.
"Compassion. Love. Sorrow. It emanates from her
pores. She is here
for one of us, but nobody knows who just yet." Patsy
looked hopeful.
The Rescuer moved from kennel to kennel, looking
at each dog. I sat
quietly watching. I could see tears in her eyes as she
made eye
contact with each one. She stopped at Spartan's cage and spoke
quietly to him.
"No more beatings my man. No more. You are
coming with me. From here
on in, it's all going to get better."
The Rescuer produced a leash, opened the kennel
door, and took
Spartan away. As he walked beside her, his little stubby tail
wagged
with delight.
Patsy sighed again. I could see the
disappointment in her eyes, and
it grieved me. They all had the same look,
as they watched The
Rescuer depart.
"I am so sorry Patsy," I said in a whisper. "But
you are a little
dog, and everyone loves little dogs. I am convinced you
will be
rescued soon." Patsy's brown eyes twinkled at me, a little bit of
hope returning.
I had heard and seen enough. I needed to tell
people how it was for
these unfortunate creatures. They were all here
through no fault of
their own. I stood to leave. I passed by many other dogs
I did not
interview, looking at each one, wishing I could take them all home
with me and give them the love they deserved.
I stood by the door taking
one last glance back, when it opened, and
one of the pound workers came in.
His face was drawn and sad. He
walked by without a word, and stopped at
Pete's kennel. I heard him
take a deep breath, then he paused, and opened
the kennel door.
The words were muffled, but I am sure I heard
him say "I'm sorry old
boy."
He came out, with Petey in tow. The old dog's
head hung down in
resignation, and they both disappeared behind the big
steel door.
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