You know, the pound is a scary place. People walking around, looking, poking, prodding. There's never a silent moment. There's always something causing noise around there, whether it be a machine, an animal or a staff member. But those, those I could deal with. In a way, they gave me a sense of comfort. The thing that scared me the most was that I wasn't wanted. That's why I was there. Other pets were rescued from homes that didn't treat them well, or that couldn't take care of them.
Every few days, a random amount of pets were chosen to get displayed for adoption. When the pound opened, a bunch of eager adopters rushed in, hoping to get the best looking and rarest pets. They never had trouble finding a home. It was the others.
I remember the day as clearly as when it happened. A staff member came by to my pen. This happened every day, since I needed food and water. But this was different. She had a leash in her hand. I was suddenly overcome with a rush of fear, anxiety and stress. I was being put on display for adoption.
I didn't pull, tug or try to run away. I just walked, with my head low to one of the display cages. I was having flashbacks of when I was put here.
I thought nothing when my owner hooked me up to a leash. We often went for walks together, so I happily wagged my tail. I didn't care that we weren't going the usually path, or that my owner had a grim, even menacing expression on his face. Red flags only started popping up when we neared Pound. I heard stories about it, horrible stories. My tail stopped wagging.
My owner walked into the building, tying me up to a post to wait outside. Then, someone different than my owner came to get me and bring me into the building. I didn't have to be a genius to know what was happening. He was abandoning me here. Now, I wanted to think that he just couldn't afford to care for me anymore. And I started to believe that. Until I saw him walking out with another dog.
I was brought back to reality when a loud noise filled the area. I then heard talking, running and laughing. The Pound had opened. I stood in the corner of my cage, waiting. The Pound wouldn't close until every animal had been adopted. In some cases, staff members had to adopt the pet so that they could start preparing for the next opening. I saw, through the bars of my cage, all the nice looking pets go. Now, I wasn't ugly. Grey, with dark grey and light blue markings all over my body and face. The ones on my face looked like tears. I certainly wasn't beautiful, though.
I had been waiting here for about fifteen minutes. People had come to look at me, but they always went for a different pet. I was starting to give up the little bit of hope I had.
Suddenly, out of the blue, I see a little blonde head with pigtails and blue eyes look into my cage. She was smiling ear to ear.
"Mommy, I want this one!" My ears perked up. I had to make sure she was talking about me. Next thing I know, I'm being led out by this little girl, who I learned was named Bella.
I've been with Bella for about a year now. She's the best owner I've ever had, even though she's only my second one. She gave me something my old owner hadn't: a name. She named me Maine. Bella and I love to play dress up together, and pretend we're princesses of a far away land. And even though I always look sad, I couldn't be happier.
I love you Maine! http://www.chickensmoothie.com/viewpet.php?id=61878971
Have you ever wondered what it's like to be a pet in the pound waiting for someone to come along and take you home? Well, click "read more" below and you may just find out! Thanks for the creative story, shibeboi!