Forever Home
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Natalie Carroll, Grade 12
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Short Story
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2020
Almond brown irises, framing pupils that stare into my soul. They are the only things that indicate she is alive. Her ribcage and hipbones are visible, and her cumbersome movements indicate great fatigue. I press my hand up to the cold steel cage bars. Her curiosity slowly overpowers her hesitance. Every movement is tense as her fragile frame gets onto its feet. I finally realise what makes her so different. My heart skips a beat.
Her ears had been clipped off. Just jagged stumps sitting where they should be.
“You poor thing,” I whisper. “What happened to her?”
“We don’t know. She came in covered in a series of gashes” Cade responds.
She freezes at his baritone voice, and backs up against the cream wall behind her, folding her limbs into an awkward position and burying her face under them to make herself as small as possible. She whines.
You know of these horror stories existing, yet you only become aware of just how abusive humans are once you see trauma in the flesh. The encounter enforces a devastating epiphany that none of such violent tales would be exaggerated. I step back from the cage. A younger woman with black hair and dark skin enters the room holding a blue bucket labelled "F10". The fraying string supporting the key pass around her neck complements the aged blue vest she wears. As she walks past me and makes her way down the corridor I notice her vest is labelled "volunteer" across the shoulder blades.
I take a moment to process the fact people devote their free time to this organisation.
I turn back to the cage and she is standing in front of the bars. I smile. I place one finger in a slot of the cage netting, daring to invade her environment. She steps forward and presses her nose to it. It feels like optimism. It is natural to accept what you are presented with, and for such a timid being who has only ever been exposed to cruelty, I must be the first person to present compassion. It dawns upon me that I am destined to get her out of here.
“I would like to adopt her.”
Cade smiles and removes the profile sheet from the cage with his lanky arms.
“Say hello to your forever home.” He tells her.
As we are exiting the corridor and walking into the main hallway of the facility, the volunteer turns a corner reeking on disinfectant. As her pace begins to lack urgency, it becomes evident she wants to converse. We stop. She congratulates me and tells me she knew of my new found friend when she came into the facility and is so grateful that the wounds were prevented from going septic.
“Make sure you look after my girl.” She said.
“Of course. What is your name?”
“Eppie,” she replies. “Why do you ask?”
I turn to Cade and inform him that I would like to name my new greyhound Eppie.