Coming here wasn’t my choice. One day I was spending time with my family and the next I’m in a room without a clue as to who these people are, why I’m here, or what’s happening. Don’t get me wrong, they’re nice. They feed me each morning, and in the afternoon. We play catch outside. There are treats in boxes and big rubber balls that I go searching for.
People pet me daily. They wish me well. They call me a good boy. The bed in my kennel is warm and fluffy. There’s a lot of other dogs here, none of whom I know.
It’s confusing to be cared for while still being scared. To never know who is coming through the door or when the doors are going to open. The humans say adoption and forever home, but all I hear are the noises all around me, the barking, talking, and things being put up, sometimes dropped, the swish swish of stuff being washed.
Water hoses spraying.
The dogs here one day aren’t the dogs here the next. Some of us stay but three or more a day are leaving with new humans to new places.
If I was a human sitting in a home, would I care if hundreds of people visited me each month?
Their intentions are pure but the noise they bring is a constant ring, ring, ring, of all of us barking. The stress here rises.
I wish I could speak when the humans we meet ask, why can’t I go in the dog room?
Just ask to see us I’d say. The humans will bring us. Keep our room quiet, keep it safe, I’d tell them. Help keep the pups happy, we’re comfortable in this space. Temporary as it may be, it’s an important part of our journey to find our forever home.