I’m a Survivor : Part IV

It happened again folks. The most terrifying thing. 

No, I’m not talking about another bath. Although, that is a reasonable guess. 

This time, I am talking about another trip to PetSmart, or as I refer to it, Hell! 

“Let’s go for a car ride Duke. It will be fun,” they said. Fun my hairy hiney. 

What started out as an enjoyable cruise, quickly changed to utter horror. As we took that curve of death, I knew one of two things : mom was either thirsty for Starbucks and I was just along for the ride, or they were taking me in to the torture chamber of death again. 

As soon as they parked the car, and walked around to my door to let me out, I knew they had once again betrayed me. 

I was forced out of the car onto the asphalt covered in animal pee, feces, tears, and blood. Many other innocent canines, such as myself, have graced this pavement. Few make it out the same or alive. 

I fought as hard as I could not to go in those doors. I tugged. I pulled. I whined. I even laid down on the ground and refused to move. That didn’t stop them. My dad is actually a pretty strong guy, and unfortunately for me, he had to be with this trip to PetSmart. If it was just my mom, I’m sure I could have sat down, gave paw, stared at her with my sweet eyes, and begged enough to turn around and go back home to where I was safe. Why did this stuff always have to happen to me?! 

They took me back to the glass room. The room that some dogs and cats never escape out of. I think they even use soundproof glass to shield the screams. 

There were three innocent, little dogs on the metal slabs. They were literally shaking in their paws. The humans were shaving off all of their fur. Like what the heck was going on in this place. Did Cruella DeVille work there?! Was their fur being taken away to make coats out of? 

One dog, I named little Timmy, even tried jumping from the slab, in hopes of escaping. He wasn’t so lucky. They took him to a back room, behind closed doors, and that was the last I saw of him. For all I know, he could have been turned into glue or shipped off to Timbucktoo. I’m not sure what’s in Timbucktoo, but I hear the phrase used a lot, so I’m sure it can’t be good. 

Anyway, back to the story. 

My parents led me in those doors and it slammed behind us. Mom handed over my leash to a complete stranger. I don’t know if I’m off base here, but I think that is against some dog protective law. 

Worst yet, they left me alone with the stranger. They walked out the doors, and there I was, alone and scared. 

I was forced up onto the metal slab. They didn’t even warm it up for me! They then put the noose around my neck and tightened it. I took what could have been my last deep breath. 

She took out the pliers and grinder and grabbed my paw. I yelped in terror, but no one came to rescue me. 

Instead, the stranger yelled over to another stranger, who then came and held my neck and head. I could not move. Was she about to strangle me?! I stood still, afraid to make any other sound. I didn’t want my neck snapped. 

Tears started rolling from my blood shot eyes. I just wanted my mom. 

What felt like an eternity passed by. I was literally standing in a pile of my own tears and nervous sweat. Shhh, don’t tell my mom about the sweat part. She might make me get a bath! I just can’t handle that right now. 

Next thing I know, mom and dad are back in the room standing in front of me. It was the most beautiful sight I’ve ever seen. 

They came back for me! I was still alive! 

Okay, okay. Forget making that call to dog protective services. I might have jumped the gun a little. 

Dad grabbed my leash from the stranger, and mom hugged and kissed me. I once again felt safe. 

I was one of the fortunate ones that day. I survived. Heck, I even got a brand new pair of green rain kicks. But as for little Timmy, I am not sure he was so lucky. God help his little soul. 

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s