We decided to adopt a dog from a shelter, even though my husband prefers getting a purebred dog, associating pedigree with nobility, intelligence, and loyalty.
I insisted on visiting a shelter with him, and he reluctantly agreed. Throughout our long marriage, John has never disagreed with me. You might wonder why we’re not adopting a child instead. We’re both quite alone and already at a mature age. We understand the responsibility for any creature we take in.
Raising a child requires years of dedication and education. It’s a long-term commitment, while a dog will be with us until the end. This dog would be like our baby.
The shelter presented a dismal scene. An unpleasant odor filled the air, mixed with the never-ending barking and howling that tugged at your heart. The dogs, like neglected children, looked at us with hope, as if reaching out for affection.
Walking alongside cramped cages, we were followed by countless pairs of eyes, silently watching our every step. Why must these animals suffer so much? I believe that if we could ensure no more abandoned animals, then the orphanages would become obsolete too.
A pet, much like a child, requires patience, love, and care, and communicates in a “foreign language” we often misconstrue or ignore.
Suddenly, John stopped at one of the enclosures. Inside lay a dog, seemingly indifferent to the world, with a vacant stare. He didn’t react to our presence, appearing deaf and blind to everything around him. “Why this mutt? Take this one, at least it’s purebred,” the shelter attendant quickly suggested.
“He’s been abandoned and betrayed multiple times, as if he’s chosen to starve himself out of despair,” a volunteer explained with a hint of sorrow in her voice. John tried speaking to the dog, but it turned away dismissively, having lost faith in people.
“You know, he’s very good, obedient, and loyal, despite being a mongrel, unlike these ‘kings of nature,’” the volunteer expressed hope, following us closely, hanging onto our every gesture. As I reached through the bars to stroke the dog, it unexpectedly turned towards me, its gaze burning into mine, then nestled its nose in my hand. It was slightly wet, and its warm breath tickled my skin.
I laughed. The dog sighed deeply, rose to its feet, and wagged its tail. “It’s a miracle!” exclaimed the volunteer. “You’re the first he’s responded to.” “The vet had begun preparing him for euthanasia,” interjected the head of the shelter, a decent man, but indifferent to his job.
The volunteer added, “You know, he seems to understand everything and howls quietly at night, mourning his sad fate. Tears even fall from his eyes. Have you ever seen a dog cry? I have!” she blurted out with bitterness, averting her now-tearful eyes.
You should have seen John at that moment. He mirrored the dog, battered by life. I’ll never forget his eyes, so desperately pleading like a dog’s for mercy. And beside him, the dog’s eyes. We locked eyes for a long time. Deep in his soul, a storm of emotions raged; he hadn’t forgotten human betrayals. But he wanted a family so much! Suddenly, a will to live sparked inside him!
He howled, long and mournful, releasing his pain. Every worker in the shelter gathered at our pen. Many didn’t hide their tears. John kneeled before the dog, as if seeking forgiveness for all of humanity’s sins.
“His name is Faithful,” said one of the staff, handing us the leash. The entire shelter bid us farewell. Someone discreetly crossed themselves. That sign of the cross sealed our union with the dog.
John completely forgot about buying a purebred dog. After all, doesn’t “buying a dog” sound odd to you? Can you really buy a friend, and is loyalty and love something you can purchase?
The dog trotted happily beside us without a leash, relishing his newfound freedom. He seemed to know he’d be with us until the end, and he’d never have to cry again.
