The light of hope

The door swings open, and the white fluorescents flood the kennels with light.

The youngsters hurriedly blink the sleep out of their eyes as they adjust to the brightness of morning.

The older ones stretch and yawn somberly, with less anticipation ... they've been here too long.

The young ones scamper towards the sounds of footsteps on the gray cement, excitement on their faces.

The older ones sit, heads drooping, eyes cast downward.

Another day ... there is no hope.

The youngsters jump up and down, desperate to be taken ...

A home.

Hope dances merrily in their every movement, electricity charging through them as the footsteps stop in front.

An elderly adult next door whimpers softly, unwillingly caught up in the young one's excitement.

His beautiful, golden head rises tentatively ...

He knows better, but sometimes hope seeps into his thoughts.

The strangers on two legs coo and cuddle the young ones. The sounds of their high pitched squeals tearing more holes into the already broken heart of the older one.

The strangers glance at the elderly dog, and for one brief moment, the old one shines, ears up, tail wagging, toe nails scraping anxiously on the hard floor.

But then the joyful calls of the young pups once again capture the attention of the strangers and with brief nods, they turn their gaze back to the young ones.

The choice is made ... someone is going home.

The old one slowly lowers his tail, his ears fall forward as he gently lays his great golden head upon the cold cement.

The fluorescents go out as the sun goes down and the sound of footsteps once again fall in front of his kennel.

He doesn't raise his regal, color of sunset head ... he knows.

Look closely, for as the light dims in his soft brown eyes ... remember ... it was the Light of Hope.

 

(Staci Bell)