When I was at Roswell Animal Control on Thursday of last week and pulling the “golden girl” out of there, I visited a little with this special girl in cage 39 . . . and yesterday, I once again drove the 75 miles to get her out of there.
(photo by Maria Sosa)
She’s very young and apparently someone knew the owner, let everyone know she was 6 months old and named Honey . . . I’ll see if she wants to keep the name or not. I’ll never understand how anyone would leave something so precious in a place like animal control, and yet it happens every day, in every community.
I hate that the kennel worker brought her out with a leash around her neck, never talking to her, and almost dragging her. I guess those places don’t exactly attract kind workers. She was clearly stressed until I quickly picked her up, talked to her and put a harness on her. She immediately relaxed and we were out the door . . . she went ahead and straight to my truck.
I don’t know what it was about this one that made me fight back tears all the way home. Maybe it was the way she could look into my eyes and question, “am I going someplace nice?”
Maybe it was the way she never left my side as we drove home . . . she had to keep a paw on my leg as if to remind herself this was real. Maybe it was the way she climbed into my lap to look out the window as we left Roswell behind.
After watching the road for awhile, she curled up next to me and slept for the last 30 miles.
Welcome to your new life of freedom and love, little girl. You’ll never have to worry again.