They call this cage ‘deathrow’. Every day a dog gets taken through that door and another of us takes its place. Now I’m in deathrow. All I scent is fear. Trembling, I retreat into the corner.
Humans are coming now, little ones squealing in delight at the wriggling puppies. Humans say they’re going to their ‘freverhomes’. I don’t know where I’m going. No-one wants me.
A lady’s coming, gaze intent. I feel a…connection. Uncertainly I walk to the bars, tail stirring. The door opens, she bends, her forehead dipping down to mine.
“You’re coming home with me.” she whispers.