Last Stop

They stand behind caged doors. They look at you when you walk by. They howl like their lives depend on it. Because, you see, that’s just what they do.

Some have barked so hard they’ve lost their voices. The old dogs, however, don’t even bother barking anymore. They know what awaits them. One day a woman in scrubs and rubber gloves will lead them away, and they won’t come back.

“People just don’t want elderly dogs,” a staff worker tells me. “It breaks my heart.”

There are a lot of old dogs here. There is Ophelia. She’s a beagle, almost 11. There is ‘Bama, Pistol Pete, Chocolate, Bradley, and Miss Daisy. Jack, the Labrador. Abandoned, elderly dogs. This is their last stop on the bus ride of life.

Through the doors walks Jace. Jace is a 7-year-old boy with rosy face and blond hair. His parents are divorced. Jace gets lonely.

“My son needs a friend,” his mother explains.

Jace walks the corridor and looks for a pal. He sees Rip—a basset hound with so many wrinkles he ought to win an award. His face is long, his ears touch the floor. Rip is nine.

Rip starts howling when he sees the visitor. Jace pokes his hand through the bars. Rip wanders to the door. He licks Jace’s hand.

In dog years, Rip is older than this boy. I can’t find a good sentence to convey the way an old dog looks at you. But it’s like they know something we don’t.

“Can I play with him?” says Jace.

“Don’t you want a younger dog?” his mom says.

“Please?”

The worker opens the cage, then leads them to a small place called the “interview room.” Jace is pure energy, but Rip is no spring chick. The old dog does his best to keep up. This is, after all, Rip’s big audition.

But Rip appears to know he’s not going to be adopted. He’s been through this before. They play with you, they toss a ball, they talk sweet. They put you back in the kennel.

Jace tosses a ball. “Go get it, boy.”

Rip thinks about it for a moment. Should he chase it? What would be the point? This kid isn’t going to adopt an old hound just because he plays fetch. Rip retrieves the ball anyway. It’s just in his nature.

Finally they return Rip to his kennel.

And Jace walks out of the animal shelter, holding his mother’s hand. His mother has decided that Rip is too old.

Three days pass. A woman enters Rip’s kennel. She is wearing rubber gloves and scrubs. Rip is afraid of her. He knows what’s about to happen.

She leads him to a white room. He’s panting and nervous. She leads him through a narrow hallway. The dogs scream as Rip walks by. They howl. But Rip is brave because he is a dog. And dogs are brave.

She unclicks his leash.

He is scared. He’s trying to be courageous, but his old bladder gets the best of him. He makes water on the floor. And that’s when he hears his name being called.

“Here, Rip!” says Jace.

The boy is running toward him.

“You’re coming home with me!” the kid screams.

Rip begins to howl. Because, as I say. It’s just what they do.