It was a perfect day. Everyone was divided into those in shorts and t-shirts and those, a bit older with thinner blood, whose upper torso was covered by a sweater or sweat shirt. The breeze was gentle, seductively gentle. It was the day that spring announced, “Let’s party.”
The line stretched from the rear door to the front of the church, in places two or three wide. At least every other human in that line was being led on a leash by a canine intent upon seeing the vet. It was the annual Pet Vaccination and Adoption Day. The Echota Pet Rescue Group was there providing the shots, the tests, the microchips and other for those who needed it. And all across the front yard were the candidates to become a human’s new friend, a wide assortment of dogs waiting in anticipation of someone to love.
She was about eleven, maybe twelve, but I doubt it. Her hair was shoulder length, brunette with a hint of childhood blond. Her jeans had that fashionable slit in each knee, designed to imitate old and faded, but with a crease that hinted of a mother who did not completely understand pre-adolescent fashion.
The mutt was in her lap. His presence interrupted her perpetual habit of pushing strands of hair that would not stay put behind her left ear. The interruption was caused by his insistence on rooting toward her cheek to plant puppy kisses. Every other time, or so, she’d give a soft giggle and make some cooing expression to the creature.
“You like him?” I asked.
“I sure do,” she said.
“Going to adopt him?”
“I think he’s the one. My mom said I could get one more pet, just one. I think this one is going to be it.”
“Have you checked out the others?”
“No, sir,” she smiled, looking up with one eye obscured by the escaping strands of hair. “I didn’t need to look at any others. He’s the one. I’m going to call him Sassy.”
She giggled as the puppy strained upward to lick at the lobe of the ear that had once again been assigned to hold the wandering hair strands. She laid Sassy on his back in her lap and began rubbing his belly. Sassy forgot about licking as he struggled to understand why his leg was jerking.
She looked at the line of people stretching around the church being led by their pets. “It’s nice everyone can come here and get the shots,” she said. “Mom has my other dog inside getting his shorts.” Sassy began chewing on her right index finger. “But you know what? There’s not a lot of people here adopting pets. That’s a shame.”
“You’re adopting one. That’s a start.”
She nodded, thought a moment, and then pointed toward a mongrel in a cage twenty feet away. “I thought about getting that one, but then I saw Sassy. I hope someone gets her.” She stopped her belly rubbing and directed the hair back to its place. As soon as her hand left the belly Sassy headed for her cheek. Another giggle.
“I like your dog,” she said as my faithful canine canine companion, Charlie Brown, decided to push Sassy around with his nose. She grabbed Charlie Brown and hugged him. Sassy took shelter under her arm. “You know,” she said, “if we don’t take care of the animals, we’ll never learn to take care of ourselves.”
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