I didn’t notice Gracie at first.
I walked right past her cage without even seeing her. But when I noticed there was a plastic-covered sheet of paper with a dog’s info on it, I peered through the metal bars.
And there she was.
Gracie was curled up in a ball, and she simply stared at me. I cocked my head to the side, trying to decide what mixture of breeds had gone into this smallish, white-muzzled, quiet girl.
“Hey, there,” I said softly. There was something about Gracie that forced you to speak in a soft voice.
She looked at me bleakly and gave a tiny flick of her tail.
I reached into my pocket for some treats and entered the cage slowly, only glancing at her. I didn’t want to alarm her with direct eye contact.
Then I crouched down in the front of the cage, my back to Gracie, staring out at the world beyond the bars just like so many shelter dogs. And I waited.
Honestly, I wasn’t so sure Gracie would rise from her bed in the back of the cage to come over and sniff me. She seemed beyond quiet — she seemed to have given up. And she’d been at the shelter for less than a week.
“Please let someone adopt her quickly,” I said to myself.
But I knew it was a foolish request. Most people don’t want to adopt an older dog. It goes beyond the fact that they’re not cute and frisky and wiggly-waggly.
They’re expensive. Because older means illness, and that means vet bills.
It also means heartache. How many people are willing to adopt a dog they know will be gone in a few years?
But as always, I tried not to let my thoughts go there. I was at the shelter to give a dog quality of life for that given day. End of story.
So I just sat and waited and finally, finally Gracie got up from her bed and approached me.
I let her sniff me all over. Gently, I held out my hand — still without looking at her — so she could sniff the treats. She licked my hand, but didn’t take the treats.
I reached out to pet her, and she looked at me with those old, sad, tired eyes … but she wagged. And I fell in love.
I clipped a leash onto her collar, and we walked out of the shelter.
Once outside, this old, tired dog perked up as I led her across the grass and toward a woodsy area. She frolicked and leaped around on light feet, making me wonder if there was whippet or greyhound somewhere in her DNA.
Of course, it didn’t really matter what was in her. She was Gracie, and that was certainly enough for me.
As the weeks went on, I’d always head for Gracie’s cage first — and there she’d be, curled up in her bed at the back of her cage.
By this time, she knew me, and she’d rise slowly from her bed, like an elderly person getting up from a rocking chair. She’d come over to me, wagging, and I’d sit in her cage and pet her until we leashed up and went outside.
And then the day came when I went to her cage and saw it.
It was a slip of paper that said, “Not available.”
Minutes later I was told the wonderful news: “Gracie’s going home today!”
My eyes filled with tears. I’ve always been such a ridiculously easy touch with these dogs.
“Oh, Gracie!” I said, as I entered her cage, locking it behind me. “You’re going home today!”
She rose slowly from her bed and wagged as she came over. She didn’t seem any different than she had in previous weeks.
So I sat there and told her how life would be different from now on. “You may have a couch to sleep on — I don’t know how your new family will feel about that. But you won’t have all these dogs barking day and night, and you’ll probably have a nice yard, and you’ll certainly get regular walks …”
Gracie listened in her respectful way. Such a good girl.
My eyes were getting watery again, so I just kissed the top of her head. “Goodbye, sweetheart. I hope you have the fantastic life you deserve.”
November is the ASPCA’s Adopt A Senior Pet Month. Seniors (usually ages 7 and up) make wonderful companions and come with fewer surprises — what you see is what you get. Please consider bringing an older dog into your home.
Tell us about your experience with senior dogs in the comments section below.
DogsHome: Providing shelter, training and love