I walked into the familiar sound of excited, frightened yips and barks. The wired cages and concrete floors did nothing to warm the room. The damp smell of disinfectant lingered in the air. I wandered around, reading the information cards; one simply read, Surrendered: Owner in Hospice Care.
With a sigh, I looked at the graying face peering up at me, tail softly beating the floor. As I met her warm, trusting eyes, I could not help but feel her sadness.
“I have never had a dog before,” I whispered. “You will have to teach me as we go along, okay?”