I stared at the long rows of steel bars enclosing each kennel. A mix scent of dog hair and cement trickled into my nose. Barking echoed throughout the room. I glanced at all the dogs. My heart flurled. I turned and said to the young girl in the room. "I'll take them all home."
She glanced at me and chuckled as she slid a dish into a kennel.
I stepped toward the first dog and studied his profile as he stood on his hind legs and barked. I calmly told him to sit. When he did I told him he was a "good puppy." I felt a tightness in my throat. I inched toward the next kennel. Inside was a small, white, wavy-haired dog. He jumped up and down on his hind legs, begging me to take him. He was a small, the size I wanted. I checked his age. Two years. Too old.
After observing each dog, I didn't find one I couldn't live without. As I began to leave, I took one final look. My eyes halted at the kennel with the short white dog. Ummm, how old and what kind of dog is he? On the plastic coated paper it read, miniature poodle mix. age two years.
I swivelled around and asked the young lady if I could take him out.
"Just a minute, I have to get a leash," she said.
I extended my hand out. A black nose tickled my fingertips. My heart felt as though it was made of pudding.
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