A Ray Of Hope

The afternoon before I was scheduled to take Cheyenne home, I once again headed back to Cheyenne's run to bring her outside with me. It had become my habit to eat my lunch while watching her roam around the fenced in backyard of the hosptial, even though she would inevitably roam for a bit and then simply lay down, staring into nothingness.

Thus it was with great surprise that I found Cheyenne sitting at the front of her cage, wagging her tail and actually looking AT me when I came to let her out. She followed me dutifully out the back door and found the perfect corner to relieve herself. As soon as she was done she came bounding (well, more like clump/hop, clump/hopping) towards me, tail high and tongue lolling from her mouth. The sight took my breath away. She was still entirely too skinny, but sometime over the course of that week, her soul had started to slowly sneak back in, winding a smoky pattern around her heart until it (figuratively of course) began to beat in hope again.

I found myself talking to her as if she were a person and would somehow hold up her end of the conversation.

"I see we're feeling better today!"

She plopped in front of me and sat down.

"You're going to have to wear that cast for a while though, so no tearing it up, okay?"

A steady tail wag.

"I'm bringing you home with me for a little while. You'll like my dog Abby, she's very nice, and she shares everything."

A tilt of the head before inching closer.

"We're going to find you a great home in no time, I just know it."

She leaned over on her good leg until she finally slid into a happy heap in my lap.


I sat in the backyard and laughed.