Freedom’s Departure

The door yawned wide and ominous.  At least that is what I thought the little dog must think as she stood there with body hunched, head down, and legs braced to pull with every ounce of strength in her.  She had either been to a vet, or never been in a building.

Coaxing, bribing and cajoling did no good, so I finally just drug her across the linoleum by her leash, walking nonchalantly as if this was the normal way we walked in public.  I’m sure everyone in the lobby watching found it entertaining to watch this filthy little white creature’s antics appear to result in indifference on my part, especially since everyone knew better.

I think what surprised me most was her disposition.  Through every intrusive procedure, she had never growled, snapped or was in any way aggressive.  She had simply stood stoically and subjected herself to things I certainly would not have tolerated with such grace.  I watched and understood that she was not passively accepting her fate, but simply waiting on the opportunity to be offered a chance at freedom.  Her soft eyes studied me, the room, the vet, and waited patiently.

Poked, prodded, rid of fleas, and her reproductive abilities, the poor little beast was being left at the vet’s to recuperate.  She had been severely dehydrated, broken, and left on the side of the road to perish, so although sterile and barren, these rooms must represent a safe haven, but as I paused to look back, seeing the terror in her brown eyes, I knew all she wanted was to be loose.  She had grown up outside, on the streets, where she determined her own direction, and as she watched, her one hope for returning to this world was walking out the door.

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