My husband and I decided to adopt a dog from a rescue shelter. He was keen on buying a purebred, believing that breed signifies nobility, intelligence, and loyalty.
However, I convinced him to visit a shelter with me, and he reluctantly agreed. Throughout our long marriage, Philip has never opposed me. You might wonder, why a dog and not a child? We are a reclusive couple and in our later years. We both understand the responsibility that comes with taming a living being.
Raising a child involves nurturing, educating, and it’s a long-term commitment. With a dog, our companionship will last until the very end. This dog will be our shared child with Philip.
The shelter presented a harrowing scene. The stench was overwhelming, mingled with an endless cacophony of barking and howling. Every dog, like abandoned children, looked at us with hopeful eyes, as if reaching out for an embrace.
Philip and I walked past countless cramped cages, followed by hundreds of watchful eyes, observing our every move. Why must these animals suffer so much? It seems that if we had no abandoned animals, we wouldn’t have neglected children, and orphanages would cease to exist.
Animals, much like children, require patience, love, and care. They speak a “foreign language” that we often don’t try to understand, interpreting it as we see fit.
Suddenly, Philip stopped dead at one of the cages. Inside lay a dog, indifferent to the world with a vacant stare. He didn’t react to our sudden appearance, seeming deaf and blind to us. “Why would you want this raggedy mutt? Look at this breed instead,” hurried an attendant.
“He’s a reject, abandoned and returned numerous times. It’s as if he’s decided to starve himself out of his miserable existence,” lamented a volunteer about the dog’s somber backstory. Philip tried speaking to the dog, but it turned away disdainfully, having lost its faith in people.
“You know, he’s a good dog, obedient, and while he may be a mutt, he’s very loyal, unlike some ‘kings of the jungle’,” the volunteer said hopefully, following us closely and watching our every expression. I reached through the bars to stroke the dog. He unexpectedly turned towards me, gave a searing glance, and nudged my hand with his nose. It was a little damp, and his warm breath tickled my skin.
I laughed. The dog sighed deeply, got up, and wagged his tail. “It’s a miracle!” the volunteer exclaimed, “You’re the first people he’s responded to.” “The vet was already preparing to put him to sleep,” the shelter manager added indifferently.
The volunteer continued urgently, “He seems to understand everything, crying quietly at night, mourning his plight. Tears even fall from his eyes.” “You’ve never seen a dog cry, but I have!” she burst out, averting her tear-filled eyes.
You should have seen Philip at that moment. He looked just like that battered dog. I will never forget his eyes, pleading for kindness like a dog’s. And those eyes were mirrored in the dog’s. We stared deep into each other’s soul, where a storm of emotions raged. He hadn’t forgotten human betrayal, but he longed for a family.
Suddenly, he howled, long and sorrowfully, as if releasing all his pain. The entire shelter staff gathered around. Many openly wept. Philip knelt before the dog, as if asking for forgiveness on behalf of all humankind.
“His name’s Faithful,” said one of the staff, handing us the leash. The whole shelter saw us off. Someone devout crossed us discretely, sealing an eternal bond among the three of us.
Philip completely forgot about buying a purebred dog. And honestly, doesn’t “buying a dog” sound odd to you? Can you really purchase a friend, or is loyalty and love for sale?
The dog trotted alongside us, with Philip letting him off the leash to relish his newfound freedom. It was as if he understood that he was with us until the end, and he would never cry again.
