Buster

Buster panicked as the sound of footsteps echoed through the hall. It was happening again.

He hurried to the back of his cage and tried to make himself as small as possible; curling into a ball, he hid his face and tucked his tail underneath him.

An assortment of barks erupted as the other cages rattled with excitement.

Buster trembled. It had been two weeks since he'd been taken from his home and the safety of his mother.

The voices grew louder as the footsteps slowed. He heard the strangers talking, discussing options.

He whimpered as they came to a stop.

‘What about this one?’ asked a soft voice.

‘That one is what we call the runt of the litter. I warn ya, he’s on the feeble side.’

‘Oh, Daddy. Look at him, he’s shaking.’

‘Let’s move on, Sarah.’

Buster expected them to start walking but heard no footsteps.

‘Don’t give me that look.’

The voices fell silent as the other dogs yelped and barked and twirled for their attention.

‘Sarah. I mean it.’

Silence.

‘Fine, open the cage, please.’

He shut his eyes tight, trembling as a large hand-picked him up and placed him in small, warm arms.

A soft hand stroked his back as he dared a glance out of the corner of his eye. She was all smiles, with dimples and big green eyes. Her flowy red hair matched his patchy fur.

‘He’s perfect,’ she whispered, choking back tears, ‘let’s go home.’