I was free.
The winter wonderland around me stretched out for what seemed like ages, skyscrapers dancing at the farthest edges of my vision. It was with light paws that I treaded through the night, the forever-falling snow contrasting against my black pelt as I leaped and nipped at the millions of flakes falling from above. Eventually I gave up my little self-made game, flopping over in the snow and lying there until the gentle tug of the leash pulled me back to reality. Of course, my so-called freedom would have to end eventually, like it always did.
Rolling back to my side, I stood up and shook the snow from my fur before trotting back to the volunteer who had been watching me the whole time. Even though I would've loved to stay out there forever, in the little park by the shelter, the routine said otherwise. It was time to head back to the small, cramped cage I called home. Sure, there were people there who cared about me, but otherwise it wasn't the greatest place to call home. The volunteer gave the leash another tug to signal for me to catch up to her as she began walking, retracing the intertwined human and puppy prints that scattered the snowed-over sidewalk. By morning, there would be no signal that I had ever played in that field, let alone walked there in the first place. The snow was falling hard enough to cover our tracks. In the morning, the only thing I would have left from this night would be my own memories.
As we reached the entrance, I remembered to look at the dog statue they had outside the doors. It was bigger than me, and made out of stone thick enough to let snow pile up on top of it for what seemed like several feet. The first time I had seen it was from behind a cage door, being brought to the shelter only about a month ago. Ever since then I had always looked at it any chance I got, for good luck. At least I considered it to be good luck, nobody had ever said it would help me.
And I seriously needed a lot of help.
The volunteer opened the door and gave my leash one last tug, gesturing for me to head inside before it got too late. I had been the last one brought outside, and night had already shrouded the city in a cloak of shadows. It was much brighter inside, causing me to squint a bit at the huge overhead lights. The woman at the front desk had already left, leaving behind an empty swiveling chair, and several large mounds of paper that swallowed up the desk and floor around it. The feeling of impending doom seemed to creep up on me, looming over my world like an angry beast that wanted to shatter it whole. As for what would cause that, I wasn't sure.
Walking past the desk and papers, I noticed that blocky red letters across the majority of them. , I had no idea what that meant. My investigation was cut short by yet another tug of the leash as the volunteer led me down the first long hallway, making a sharp left and through a heavy door that shut with a click behind us. From there it was a short walk down the rows of dimly-lit cages, each containing one dog. Several of the new guys barked, but the other dogs remained silent, staying absorbed in their own little worlds.
My cage was the farthest back, surrounded by concrete walls on three sides with interwoven iron mesh on the front. The only way in and out was the small door to the side, big enough for me to get through with ease, but low enough that a human would have to bend over a bit to enter. As she swung the door open, her other hand unclipped the leash and picked me up so I was eye to eye with her.
"Goodbye, little guy. I'll miss you the most," she whispered to me, both hands now completely around my little puppy body. Her voice was edged with a sadness with a source I couldn't identify. My first instinct was to lick her nose, and she laughed a bit before setting me down inside the cage. The door shut and latched with a click before she turned around and flicked off the lights, leaving us in darkness. A squeak and slam told us canines that she had left until morning, when the whole routine would start over again.
Left with nothing better to do, I let my paws carry me over to the safety of my small dog bed in the corner.
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WIP
