Adoption
by Harris Tobias
It was adoption day at the facility.
All those humans slated for euthanasia looking so
bewildered, frightened and lost. How can anyone
just leave them all to die? Thork and I rolled by
the glass fronts of the cages stacked three rows
high. So many of them. There must have been
several hundred. They stared back at us hollow
eyed and distrustful. Most had given up any hope
of rescue. It was so sad.
Thork and I would take them all home
if we could. As it was, we had already rescued
six over the years. They make such wonderful pets.
So grateful to have another year or two of life.
Loyal, loving and kind, there’s nothing like
a mature human to make a bleem a pronk. I look at
their faces. I believe I can read a lot into
their expressions. These are the unwanted refuse
that clutters our streets. Picked up like vermin,
breeding in dark corners, mongrels the lot of
them. And yet, I believe, there is a dignity in
even the lowest of them. Clean them up and feed
them and they are the equal of any pure bred
expensive variety.
I have had nothing but good
experiences from my rescue pets. Oscar was
beloved by all in the years he lived with me. It
broke my org to flush him but he was so broken,
he was not worth fixing. To this day I don’t
know how he got under my roller. But I believe
that every life is special and that there is
something cute and worth saving in all of them. I
roll by slowly and check out their faces. I nudge
Thork with my appendage and point to a female in
the third row. A mature female beyond child
bearing years with a soft belly and sagging
breasts. Water streams from her eyes like they do
when they are sad. It touches my org. “She’s
the one,” I tell Thork and he rolls off to
get the attendant.
The attendant expertly wraps an
appendage around our female and rolls her to the
front. They are so small and delicate. The
attendant examines her and gives her her shots
with a big needle. She lets out a little yelp of
pain and he puts her in the carrier we brought.
We give the attendant credits and Thork carries
the human to the transporter. We will keep her in
the cage with the others. They seem to like their
own kind. Outside the air is cool. The human
whimpers and cowers in the corner of the carrier.
I smeem to Thork, “Look, she shakes. That
means she likes me doesn’t it?”
“Perhaps she is frightened or
cold,” Thork knows nothing about humans.
“Perhaps,” I smeem back
unconvinced. “I will call her Oscar like my
other one. What do you think?”
Thork smeems assent. I stick my appendage into
the carrier and stroke the creature. It shrieks.
I can tell it likes me.
|
