Bounce

Bounce… bounce… bounce…

A grey ball kept hitting the floor while David spoke on the phone.

On the other side of the room large beady eyes followed the ball in rapt attention. Though the heart imagined the rubber push up his itchy canines, the heavy lunch made it a remote possibility for his paws to move a single inch. The coziness of the pillows next to the warmth of Sarah’s thighs was too much to give up for a ball.

But he still wanted it. The white fluffy tail kept giving a weak wag as if in sync with the bounce of the grey ball. Sarah noticed and called out to David to pass her the ball. But David was too engrossed in the conversation to pay attention.

That’s the last of the cozy home he remembered.

In his dreams, the ball still bounces, the sound of his leash being pulled out still gets him excited in his sleep. Sometimes, he tries to navigate through the cold hard floor of his enclosure to cuddle up to Sarah’s warm thighs, never to reach it. The care-takers at the shelter still find it amusing that he sleeps in one spot and wakes at another often wagging crazily in his sleep.

Customary wags and weak licks keep Holden alive. His near-blind eyes and weak legs still look for his familiar footing at home. He never knew when the cozy comfort of David’s car changed to the hard flooring of this place he now spends his days. The ball, the leash, the food bowls never changed, but the people around did. Five years ago.

He wished he walked up to David that day and begged for him to throw the ball or licked Sarah to express how much he loved them. He wishes he never found the car seat too comfortable for sleep. Or the food too bland for his liking. He wishes he never pooped on the grass or peed on the pole. Something must have ticked them off.

He knows he isn’t alone. Sickly eyes, once beady like his, search for home all around him. Waiting for their Davids and Sarahs. The new members bring back the pain of his first realization. The howling, the moaning, the constant whining reminds him of his first day in the shelter.

Sometimes, he hears balls bouncing off the hard floor. But these days, his paws are too weak to move a single inch and eyes too weak to follow it.