Discarded

It was all too familiar. The concrete slab, the smell of urine, and the waiting, there was always the waiting. As he sat under the florescent light, he knew he didn't have many chances left. He had been a Max, a Champ, a Buddy, and at one time, a George. Time was running out, few people chose older dogs. At this point he rarely even bothered to put on a show when the squeaky gate opened.

So when Elliot entered and walked by cage 5, he had no reason to think that day would be any different. The dog watched as the man passed, wearing a long sleeved shirt with jeans, along with well worn boots that had a hint of manure smell to them. Puppies are at the end of the block, he thought to himself. They always put them in the back so prospective adopters have to walk by us old saps.

He listened as the man made his way down the aisle, stopping at cages and looking at the other dogs. He heard the way he spoke to the dogs, as he tried to coax them from the back of their cages. Then he heard the boots make their way back towards cage number 5, his cage. The man stopped, and then knelt on one knee.

Hey boy, it’s okay. Come here boy.Normally he would have ignored him, but this time he couldn’t. There was something about him. He found himself getting up before he had even realized he was moving.

That’s it boy, come on. He approached timidly, smelling his hand. Elliot passed the smell test and was allowed to pet his head. He’d forgotten how good this felt. Hey Buddy…you seem like a good boy.

Margie, a long time volunteer saw the man taking an interest to cage number 5.

“I see you've found Charlie”

Yeah, what’s his story?

“He was dropped off by a younger couple, said they didn’t have time for him.”

“How long ago?”

“Oh, almost a year ago.”

“Any idea how old he is?”

“We’re guessing around 8, he’s as sweet as can be, just kinda sticks to himself.”

“Any idea of the breed?”

“We're not too sure, maybe some sort of hound, it’s tough to say. Good looking guy though.”

“Charlie, huh?” Elliot said, stroking the dog's chin.

Charlie was actually nine, but appreciated the compliment. Elliot continued to stroke his chin, and Charlie was content to let him. The last couple had tied him to a chain in the backyard one day and left him there until they decided he was too time consuming. And that was one of the better places he’d lived.

Before that, it had been the abusive drunk in the basement apartment. The man had been pleasant enough in the beginning, but began kicking and throwing things at him as the drinking escalated. One day, after being let out to do his business, he had made a break for it.

So had been the life for Charlie, shelter to shelter, with a few homes in between. He had grown accustomed to this way of life, never getting too comfortable. For some reason, after all he had been through, he still wanted to trust humans.

“Can I take him outside?” Elliot asked.

“Sure….if he’s willing to go with you.” Margie answered, not unlike a protective mother.

“Come on Charlie!" Elliot said, patting his knees. "Do you want to go outside?”

To Margie’s amazement, Charlie was up and more than willing to venture outdoors with the stranger. She handed Elliot a leash and they headed out. Margie smiled as she watched Charlie wagging and wriggling with more energy than she knew he had.

A half an hour later, they were back, and a bond had formed. It was obvious to everyone that Charlie was not going back into his cage. Elliot was looking down at the dog when he said “I’ll take him.”

Margie, who was about to tell Elliot about the adoption process, decided to let it pass, there was obviously a connection with these two, and this may be old Charlie’s last chance.

“Right this way guys.” She said with a smile.

Papers were signed and goodbyes were said, Charlie had become sort of the shelter mascot, the dog everyone hoped would go to a good home yet never wanted to see leave. Margie almost shed a tear as she watched Charlie jump into the cab of Elliot’s truck. Elliot had promised to keep them updated.

“Whadya think, huh boy? Do you like the name Charlie? Me too, let’s stick with that.”Elliot couldn’t help but notice Charlie’s eyes. Sweet loving eyes. As he looked at the dog, he wondered what he had been through. The dog’s eyes spoke to him, almost pleading with him to be a fair, good master. Elliot started the truck. “Let’s go home Charlie!”

Over the next 5 years, Charlie learned what it meant to be loved. He returned the favor as well. He adapted to being an inside dog, enjoying his runs with Elliot as well as the warm nights on the couch. He was there as Elliot married a wonderful woman, who just so happened to own a dog. From then on Charlie and Toby, a 4 year old jack Russell, became best of friends. The two of them became inseparable and spent hours chasing squirrels on walks.

Charlie began to forget his troubled years. He slept late, snoring at times, and enjoyed his evening walks with Toby. It could be said that Charlie, the journeyman dog, was spoiled. His only worry was the occasional visit to the vet, but even this was tolerable after a few treats. For a dog that was bounced around so many times, Charlie embraced his role as a family dog, almost as if he wanted to repay Elliot for rescuing him years ago. He rarely left Elliot’s side, loyally doing whatever was asked.

Charlie lived out his later years peacefully and he was always grateful for Elliot, the man who saved him from his cage. Towards the end, as he slowed down, he would curl up beside Elliot and look at him with loving adoration. He was graying, and a little slower in his movements as well as his thoughts, but he never forgot. He never forgot what Elliot had done for him.

Copyright 2012 Pete Fanning