DOGGONE LOTTERY

By

Marion White

Driving into Everett that December morning was routine. It was about a half hour drive, and I always looked forward to going. I was a volunteer at the Everett Animal Shelter. My goal was always to arrive before eight o’clock, so I could let the animals out for their first exercise of the day.

Entering the caged area was always exciting, as I could usually tell by the barking and howling about how many dogs were there and what breeds. If I heard howling, I knew there were Beagles or hounds, and sharp yipping meant Jack Russell’s, or, perhaps, Poodles or Pomeranians. Deep barks were generally larger breeds, which mostly consisted of Black Labs or Pit Bull Terriers, with an occasional wolf hybrid or Saint Bernard thrown in. I always started at the closest end of the runs, and, as the barking subsided, I could start my morning, and walk the first dog. Time with each animal was limited, but I made sure each one received a pat on the head, enough time to do its business, and to run a little before returning it to its cage.

On this particular day, I had just finished the first row of pens, and was turning the corner when I saw this little Boston terrier sitting on the cold concrete just staring at me. As I opened his cage, he jumped right up and into my arms. I was so surprised that I wasn’t prepared, and he fell back down. Picking him up, I then took him outside, where I could get a better look at him. He was very thin and quite dirty, with most of the hair on his back missing, but there was something about him that captured my heart. It was the way he looked at me, as if to say, “I’m going home with you.”

After completing my work, I then went back to his pen and looked at the information on his card. It seemed he was a stray from the area, and was up for adoption that day at eleven o’clock, and his name was Sir Hondo. He hadn’t been neutered, but would have to be before he could be adopted. I hadn’t planned on getting another dog that day, though had thought about it since my Bulldog, Crusher, and had gone over the Rainbow Bridge. That was the reason I volunteered at the shelter. I needed to have dogs in my life, but didn’t think I was ready for another one so soon. Living in an apartment, I knew I had to have a small dog, and this one fit the criteria. I also knew that he was more or less housebroken, as he hadn’t messed on his kennel floor. Right then, I went to the front desk, and spoke to a shelter worker, saying that I would like to adopt the little Boston in cage fifty-four. I knew that if more than one person wanted a certain animal it would go to a lottery.