The next day I visited Duster again. This time I dropped a treat inside her kennel and backed away. Talking softly to her, I waited. She eyed me, and then the treat, suspiciously. I kept still, and after a few moments, she eased toward the milkbone, watching my hands all the while, from the corner of her eye. At some point in her life she had learned that human hands inflict hurt. I wanted to show her that human hands would also heal that hurt.

She always waited until I backed away before reaching for the treat I left. But, eventually, she no longer growled when I approached, and, in time, came to accept treats from my fingers, from the security of the other side of the wire. I wanted so badly to pet her, to caress her unruly hair and to assure her that she had nothing to fear.

One day I took a handful of milkbones and slowly unfastened her kennel latch. At first she retreated, cringing tightly against the back of the kennel, hiding her face in the corner, as if too frightened even to look. I opened the door, knelt down to her level, and held out a treat. Speaking her name, softly, I waited. A couple of moments passed, while her nose twitched, taking in my scent and that of the milkbone.

"Duster?" I called her name , softly, again.

She turned toward me. I watched her face for any sign of panic. I certainly didn't want to undo the small amount of progress we'd made, or cause her to bite me. Her pricked ears twitched nervously and those dark eyes watched my hands as she pressed against the kennel wire, staying as far away as possible. Then, it occurred to me that, in her fearful eyes, I must appear as an intruding giant in her small space. With slow, steady movements, I eased myself down to the floor and then turned onto my back, a signal of submission to dogs. Her ears perked up in surprise and she eyed me curiously. Keeping my hands low I slowly pushed the milkbone toward her. I could almost see the wheels turning in her mind, debating whether or not it was safe to take the treat. Eventually, she stretched her muzzle cautiously to accept it, but, in her haste to draw back, her grasp was not secure and the treat fell to the floor. She jerked back, fear suddenly darkening her eyes again. Duster waited, uncertain now. At last she worked up enough courage to reach once more. This time she did it!

"Good girl, Duster! You did it!" I kept my voice soft but the excitement, surely, leaked through.

Perhaps she felt the victory, too, as she chewed her treat, still nervously watching my hands. Several more times she delicately plucked treats from my fingers as I lay flat on my back on that kennel floor. Still, Duster was not ready to be touched.

Our next few visits were much the same. Should I try to touch her? Would she panic and bite me? Would she lose the tiny bit of trust she had, so agonizingly, gained? I would just have to take that chance. But I would wait until the time was right.
One crisp, wintry day, Duster, as usual, came to the front of her kennel as I approached, retreating to the back when I opened the door. I offered a treat and she gingerly accepted. The time had come.

I held out an empty hand. Looking for the usual treat, she stretched her muzzle toward me. Would she turn away when she realized my hand was empty? Drawing back slightly, Duster eyed me suspiciously. This was it. Watching her eyes closely for any hint of panic, I gently touched the side of her face. Her head lowered and her little body stiffened, but I eased my fingers into the shaggy hair behind her left ear. It felt soft. She did not pull away as I scratched that vulnerable area. And then it happened. She, ever so slightly, rested her little head in my hand and just a tiny bit of fear melted from her eyes! It was only a moment, but it was enough. My heart ached to grab her up and hold her close, but I didn't dare.

Duster's eyes followed me as I left. Did her face feel warm where I'd stroked her? Had the pain within eased just a bit? Would she welcome my touch again?

That night, as I reflected on God's plan of peace for the animals, I hoped that a bit of the fear had been erased from Duster's heart. A smile crossed my face as I remembered the softness of her fur wound around my fingers and the warmth of her little head in my hand. I felt assured that, in time, love would triumph over evil and that Duster would know peace.

There'll be no more pain or dying,
There'll be no more sorrowed crying,
For God shall wipe all tears away,
And the lamb will lie down with the lion.

It seemed like just any other day at the shelter. I visited Duster in her kennel as I had so many times before. She greeted me with her shy little "Whoof!". I was pleased with how far she'd come since the days when she'd shrink to the back of her kennel and growl in fear. Extending a treat, I noted how readily she accepted it now and watched as she, demurely, ate. Trust, for her, was a long time coming but over the months her beautiful brown eyes had grown softer and she now welcomed my hands in her fur. Wanting this last visit to be like all the others, I wound my fingers into her scruffy coat and scratched that heavenly spot behind each ear. She looked at me with innocent eyes, having no way to know of what was to come. We lingered that way a few moments more, but time was running out.

Gently I scooped her up into my arms, carried her to the next room and placed her into the bathtub. She stood perfectly still while I worked the shampoo into her hair. Bless her little heart. She truly deserved better than a shelter life. Warm water trickled through her cotton candy-soft hair. A touch of conditioner and a brisk towel-dry left her biscuit colored locks glowing with a reddish sheen.

I held her face to mine and we touched noses, "Duster, you're a beautiful little girl and today is your special day!"

A spray of doggy cologne added the finishing touch just minutes before a kind-faced lady in a medical uniform stepped inside the door. She had visited Duster every day that week and had even taken pictures so that she could show her friends the new "baby" she'd soon be taking home. Today she carried a brand new, matching collar and leash and had, so thoughtfully, left her car engine running with the air conditioner on.

I held Duster while the paperwork was completed. Someone asked me if I wanted to put her on the floor but I declined, knowing it would be the last time I would hold her. Too soon, the papers were done and Duster was ready to go to her new home. This was it! I carried her to the car where a brand new crate with a brand new little green bed waited. Duster turned as I placed her into the crate. She looked at me and then to her new "mom", who promised to give us updates from time to time.

I stroked her soft little head once more, "Duster, you're beautiful and don't you ever forget how much I love you!"

With that I turned away and left Duster to her new life; a life she so deserves with a real family to play with, to share "people snacks" with, to sleep on the bed with, and to love.

© 2001- Joy Butler