BarkingProse

Once I squeezed through the gap in the fence there was no going back. But why would I want to go back? Back to what?

Back to a filthy yard full of dog shit? Back to a drunken owner who threw cheap kibble on the ground and called it dinner?

Back to days of longing for someone, anyone, who would see me and know I was worth loving.

My first steps into freedom are thrilling. I can go anywhere. I can dream. Maybe I can even find something good to eat.

A toddler approaches me with a donut in her hand. Like so many little kids she points at me and squeals “Doggie!”

She totters towards me donut extended. I reach to take the donut from her hand when her mother screams, “Ellla! Don’t touch that filthy thing!”

Filthy thing? Was she talking about me? The mother grabs the child, tosses the donut at me and hurries off.

With one large gulp the donut is mine. As the gooey frosting lingers on my face, I carefully lick my lips savoring every last taste. Time to move on.

As I wander down the sidewalk, I notice people step aside to let me pass. That’s odd. Then I hear one say, “That old ball of rags sure stinks.”

Are they talking about me? It’s true I don’t remember the last time I had a bath. Haven’t been brushed or had my nails trimmed either. And then there’s that big ball thing attached to my flank. Cancer? Rat’s nest? A wound with maggots?

But I’m still me. Can’t anybody see that? I may be dirty and stinky but I’m an Aussie! I have one blue eye and one brown eye. Once I was beautiful. Once I was loved. Does that count for anything?

Well at least I’m free. I’m on my own looking for something I can’t quite put into words. Chasing a feeling I remember when life was better, when I had an owner who wanted me. Looking for love – but where? I guess time will tell.

Looking back over my life I wonder if I was really worth saving. Why me? Why at the last minute did some family agree to take me in?

It was Monday morning and the shelter staff were checking the list of who was going to die that day. I was on that list identified simply as the Little Aussie.

I knew a little about death. I had seen my first owner murdered by her jealous boyfriend. There had been a lot of shouting and screaming. I tried to bite the boyfriend but he kicked me hard and I ran off.

I heard my owner scream “No! No! No!” I heard a horrible loud gunshot and the screaming stopped. The boyfriend ran out the door and my was life changed forever.

After my owner died her uncle took me to his dirty little house where I stayed in the backyard with another dog named Henry. There was a covered porch and a couple ratty dog beds.

Me and Henry got fed when the uncle remembered to fill the bowl with cheap dog food. We drank filthy water from old pans left out on the grass. We never went anywhere or saw a vet.

One time an animal control officer came to talk to the uncle. I guess a neighbor had complained that we weren’t being treated right. The officer made some suggestions about how to make our lives better, but nothing changed.

Years went by. Henry died. I quit caring about anything other than my next meal. Then one day I saw a hole in the fence.

The fence was old and tired. One of the boards quit trying to stand tall and fell over. For the first time in years I could see life on the other side of the fence.

There were people walking dogs on leashes. Kids playing ball. Some guy strolled by eating a hot dog. Suddenly I was so hungry. I wanted that hot dog. I wanted to go for a walk. I wanted someone to pay attention to me. I wanted to be loved.

I squeezed through the opening in the fence and headed down the street to what I hoped would be a happier life. But it didn’t turn out that way, at least not at first.

I was going through the BarkingProse archives and I found this draft written by Nellie. She was a rescue dog that came to Asherpark through Old Dog Haven. It needs a little work but it’s such an amazing story. I wanted to polish it up but Mom said we should let Nellie tell her story in her own way. So here ya’ go. The first chapter in Nellie’s own words. (Finn)

I Am Nellie

Hard luck, bad luck, lucky little devil, no luck at all and finally a turn of fortune. That pretty much describes my life.

I was sitting on death row at the so-called animal shelter in Tacoma. The people who work there are nice enough.

Most of them really care about what happens to the unlucky creatures that find our way into the shelter. But they get overwhelmed. The cruelty, the senseless mistreatment of the animals that come through their doors wears on them.

They have to make choices every day – who lives, who dies. I don’t hold it against them that they put me on the who’s gonna die list. I would have picked me too.

I was past my prime, probably eleven or twelve years old. You could smell me before you could see me. I had a huge tumorous ball on my side. It was saturated with urine and they thought probably malignant.

Nobody was going to adopt me and so I had to die to make room for a younger more adoptable dog.

I had a couple things going for me, but in the chaos of the shelter not everyone could see that I really did have some value.

For one thing I was an Australian Shepherd. Now you may not think that’s a big deal, but Aussie lovers have been known to do crazy things to save an Aussie.

I was on the smaller side, which made lifting me easier. And my eyes were different colors. Yep! One blue eye that looked straight ahead and one brown eye that drifted off to the side.

Still, none of these features would be enough to save me from euthanasia. At best the technician would probably say something like, “Too bad we couldn’t save this one. She sure has pretty eyes.”

But then I got lucky. I didn’t die at the shelter. I began a new life at Asherpark. It was a wild and wonderful ride and truly a tale to be told.