Your son cried, "No, Daddy! Please don't let them take my dog!"
I worried what lessons he'd learned about friendship and loyalty, love and responsibility, and respect for a living organism. You patted my head goodbye, avoiding my eyes and refusing to take my collar and walking rope with you, the last symbols of our relationship. The two nice ladies were as attentive to us in the shelter as they were expected. They fed us, but I had lost my appetite and was experiencing a famine of hope. At first, whenever anyone passed my pen, I rushed to the front, hoping that you had changed your mind about ditching me or that this was all a bad dream. Later, I hoped it would at least be someone who cared, who might scratch my chin and love me again.