Molly, my beautiful flat coated retriever, spent the first nine months of her life in a backyard, with zero human contact. She ate out of an automatic feeder and drank from the pool. To amuse herself, she moved bricks from one end of the yard to the other. She often howled and cried at night, till the neighbors got sick of her.
Four years ago we rescued her and brought her home. In some strange way, I think she rescued me. She rarely strays from my side and those eyes — they get me every time.
Earlier today I stopped to talk to a young man in our neighborhood, who was walking his dog. He talked with about his hound dog, petted her affectionately and told me how she had rescued him at a dark time in his life.
Maybe it’s their unconditional love, maybe it’s their fierce loyalty for being given a second chance, maybe it’s their ability to make us the central focus of their world — they have a way of tugging at our heart strings and giving meaning to our lives. We may bring them home, but they rescue us, in more ways than one.
About Hemant Rustogi