Kisses for the world

You must be on the edge of your seat. What happened next, Clare – you’re asking. Did anyone stop to comfort you? Did they offer you a bowl of water or a puppy biscuit? A reassuring pat on the head or kind words? The only thing that came my way that day was a catch pole which tightened around my neck as I was dragged kicking and clawing into a small barred cage in the back of a truck. The cage smelled of hundreds of scared and sick dogs. It was dark and cold and slimy. We barely drove a mile when I saw the sky again as I was pulled out of the truck and plopped on the ground in front of a low-roofed building. I shook from fear. Dozens of dogs were barking, the sound ricocheting from the plastered walls into the row of cars parked in front and back again to the dogs. As they led me past the row of caged dogs, their frantic barks all tapped out the same greeting – you’ve come to the end of the road, pit bull. Kiss the world good-bye.