Wedging my way between the cool, silver door and plaster walls, I somehow squeeze into the cozy little room. A bundle of soft, caramel fur with mocha eyes and a salmon-pink tongue stares up at me with apprehension. Gradually, I crouch down, my knees scraping against the rocklike floor, and attempt to appear as unthreatening as possible.
Silence pervades the room as we watch each other; all of my training has flown out of my head. Although I have never felt intimidated by a dog before, socializing one feels different. Hesitantly, I reach towards the indigo polyester pouch digging into my hip and pull out a treat. His ears perk up and his eyes observe my hand with an unwavering focus. I reach over, frightening one feeble paw into stepping back,
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Keeping my hand in his sight, I lean forward and stroke the silky patch of white fur on his back. Instantly, he hops into my lap and begins to slather me in kisses, as if I am a long-lost friend. Slinging my volunteer badge onto a neighboring windowsill, I begin to scratch his ears while his inky nose attempts to burrow into a closed bag of treats. I practically expect him to be propelled into the air because his tail is wagging so enthusiastically. Satisfaction washes over me as I realize that I’m actually doing it. I’m socializing a dog.
I’m brought back to reality when I find his wet nose nuzzling into my palm. After an unquestionably difficult decision, he has decided to focus on the massage rather than continuing his unsatisfying search. However, the pure, perfect moment is instantly destroyed when a blur of light pink across his chest catches my eye.
Leaning closer for a better look, I realize that this affectionate, innocent being has been badly injured. Smoky bruises and unsettling open skin starkly contrast with smooth, golden brown fur. A surge of nausea floods through me on account of the abominable reality, while my fingers skim over the marred stomach. My heart physically aches, but, for the first time, I truly understand why I am