The sun sets, and I’m still tied to the chain. It kills me a little more every day that I haven’t gotten free yet.
I managed to work myself loose two times before. People returned me to Dad, and I always thought maybe this was the time he would bring me inside with him, but he never did. He would only tighten the chain more around my neck in an effort to make sure I stayed tied out.
I see Dad inside. It looks warm.
Dad says he loves me. I guess this is what love means, but those two times I got loose, other dogs and cats have talked of a different kind of love.
I’ve got a bald spot in my hair. It’s from the chain that’s tied around my neck. The tighter it gets, the more it rubs. I’m not sure the hair will ever grow back at this point.
Luckily I’m just about loose again. I think maybe tomorrow I’ll try for a third time at freedom. Even if it’s only for a few hours before I get returned, it’s more than I’ve known in the six years I’ve been on the end of this chain.
When the sun rises, I put my plan into action, and it works. All my pulling and chafing of the skin around my neck has been worth it because I feel the chain give and I take off.
The first few strides are always the best – not having that constant choking feeling is such a relief I’m breathless for a few seconds. Being able to stretch my legs and really run loosens muscles that have stayed tight for a long time.
I make it out of the neighborhood this time without anyone spotting me. I wonder if this might be it – if I might finally know real freedom, but I try not to let myself hope.
Hope is always the worst because it brings with it the expectation of a dream coming true and when it doesn’t, everything hurts that much worse.
I’m running for hours before a human finds me. The woman is so nice, I have to stop and let her pet me for a little bit, despite the fact that she’ll probably just bring me back to Dad. Her touch soothes me like nothing before, and I can’t walk away from the kindness.
She takes me to a place called the Cumberland Valley Animal Shelter. Dad comes in to surrender me. He doesn’t want to pay the fines for me getting loose any more.
As I settle into the kennel for the night, I feel a twinge of sadness that Dad gave me up so easily, but not feeling a chain around my neck makes up for it a little.
The other dogs tell me their stories, and in a way, I’m lucky. Some have been running for a long while and haven’t had food in forever. Some came from really bad situations where they were never kept clean and the humans would hit them a lot.
At least Dad gave me food and water. I had that. Some of the dogs that are near me couldn’t even say that about the humans who cared for them.
The shelter people are so nice. They pet me and rub at my bald spots. It feels so good. They seem to know how much I crave any kind of contact. Being at the end of a chain for six years has made me nearly touch starved.
It’s wonderful how kind everyone is.
Now I’m waiting for what they call a forever home. I hope it’s not outside again. I hope I might get to know what it’s like to be warm and have a soft bed and not have to worry about nights where it’s super hot or freezing cold.
I know I’m not supposed to hope, but something about this place tells me that hope might be okay.
Because maybe, just maybe, this is a place that actually helps dreams come true.
***
We get animals who come to us at CVAS from so many different situations and with so many different stories.
Our dogs and cats often just need someone to show them that life can be warm and soft and caring.
Could you do that for one of our babies?
*****
Jennifer Vanderau is the public relations coordinator for the Cumberland Valley Animal Shelter and can be reached at cvascomm@cvas-pets.org. The shelter accepts both monetary and pet supply donations. For more information, people may call the shelter at 263-5791 or visit the website www.cvas-pets.org. CVAS also operates a thrift store in Chambersburg. Readers can help support the animals at the shelter by donating to or shopping at the store.
