The Dog On A Chain.

You wake up and shower, you eat breakfast, head to your car and leave for work. Do you walk right past her?

You go on with your day, you go out into life, and you come home at the end of it all. Maybe you have a beer, more food, watch TV. Do you have windows, do you ever look outside?

It’s warm in your living room if it’s cold out, you snuggle under a blanket and thaw. Or in the summertime the air conditioner kisses your hot skin. And what I’m getting at is this: do you see your dog, skinny and lonely, freezing or burning, thirsty and chewing dirt to survive? 

Pennzie spent 17 years on a chain. She was found covered in motor oil to “keep flies away,” weak and starving. I think once in a blue moon you brushed past her and her tail wagged because she had hope. Because all dogs have hope. So much hope you can practically touch it. But you wouldn’t know because you never touched her. 

She suffered for years, chained to a tree with an old box for shelter and scraps when you remembered. Physically and mentally, she faded away. She didn’t get to run and she didn’t get to play and she didn’t go to a vet and she didn’t have a friend in the world.

And I am so frightened by those who didn’t see it. 

Chained dogs give me a lastima that cuts deep, deep through my bones, sawing them in half, making me boneless. A puncture for each story, each tethered soul, and I’m leaking from it, I’m draining, pretty soon I’ll be just a shredded hole. And that’s nothing compared to what they endure.

Pennzie was rescued just in time. One day somebody heard her cries and said, “I am here.” They said, “you are safe.” And her eyes said, “I’ve been waiting for you forever.” We don’t have to make them wait forever.


                                           Pennzie before.


                                          Pennzie after.

p.s. Sadly there are many more like Pennzie.  If you’d like to donate to a nonprofit working tirelessly to free chained and tethered dogs, click here