The day she was adopted, you could see the fear in her eyes. This dog was not accustomed to loving care or consolation, but rather, independence.
Anyone could tell though, she had this incredibly sweet, timid demeanor and a certain longing for affection. All this I sensed as I watched her keep a certain distance between herself and others.
The black and brindle, medium sized dog was at the large adoption center in Aurora Colorado, recently carted in from Mississippi as a stray.
She sat lazily against the gated area she was confined in, uninterested in other dogs or anything else. I touched her nose and she looked up at me.
I can’t exactly explain what connection we made that day, but she had this look of thankfulness and I a feeling of utter concern and love for this dog.
After about an hour of walking through the maze of puppies, barkers, people, fences, and children crying to their parents and begging to care for their newfound creature until the end of time, I made my way back to…her.
The adoption coordinators let me take her out of the fence kennel area, and she gracefully walked by my side on a leash. I wasn’t shocked that she stayed by my side.
She didn’t bark. She didn’t hesitate. She followed me around this way while other dogs made their protest toward her.
We got to an empty caged area about 30 feet wide, and I let her off the leash. She searched around the perimeter with her big black nose, and lazily made her way over to me a couple times.
Her life had seemed this way. Dismal interest. Searching.
I sat there a good 10 minutes but knew the whole time I would take her home. This was my dog, and I already had her name.
When we got back to the area she’d been kept, a cluster of dogs surrounded us, and chaos ensued. Various people were talking and it got to be too much, so I picked Abby up, a 30 pound dog I hardly knew, and held her like a toddler.
The people around us just stared. One woman started laughing in disbelief—perhaps because of the size of the dog, perhaps because it was apparent this dog was not yet mine—or was she?
Abby let me hold her like that a while, and then I set her down. She gazed up at me almost in disbelief herself. She trusted me.
I noticed she had flea bites, a rash on her arm, and spots of hair missing from certain areas on her body. The staff informed me of the unsanitary condition she was found in Mississippi. Humidity and uncleanliness did not bode well for her while rummaging for food where she could find it.
As we made our way to the front to sign the papers, my little Abby was by my side. Her glossy brown eyes found mine when I sat down at the table, and she sat waiting patiently, not budging an inch as I signed every line and promised to properly care for her.
Some of the volunteers commented on her demeanor with me, and said they had watched me pick her up and her not resisting my touch. They were in disbelief in the connection we had made, though I knew she had a long way to go as far as trust.
It’s been nearly two years since her adoption, and she turned three on September 15.
Right after the adoption the vet helped cleanse her skin, and overall we’ve been through some interesting medical situations regarding her health.
Abby has flourished in her personality, and grown in so many ways. When before she would remain complacent around other dogs, now she runs at the chance to greet one. She shows love to anyone who comes around her, and is not timid or afraid. She is grateful for the opportunity.
This story is to say that Abby provokes a thankfulness for life every day.
It’s been such an inspiration to watch her flourish and to have developed more than I ever imagined.
It was my dream to provide her a loving home, and in doing that, she has shown me unconditional love and an unending sense of gratitude.
Needless to say, Abby is a true inspiration to me every time I look at her. She is so genuine, grateful, caring, full of grace, has a punchy personality, and she gives thanks wherever she goes, to whomever she meets.