We watched the
crowd assemble, then drove our car close to the gang, got out and watched from
about 100 feet away. The truck’s shadow cast a covering of shade on the new dog
owners; a gesture of kindness that I first thought was random until I met the
people driving the truck. Kindness is not a random occurrence for the people
who operate Alpha Dog Transport; it is deeply embedded in their DNA.
Two men got
out of the cab and sauntered toward the trailer, smiling briefly at the folks
who gathered outside of their transport before disappearing inside. We waited,
some of us not knowing quite what to expect, others knowing exactly what was
coming, because they had done it before.
Our new
friends had been through a lot, the most recent being a four-day highway road
trip. Dogs live in the moment, and as far as I know are unable to worry about
the future. I imagine they are aware of the difference that different moments
bring, and in all likelihood know when things are dull. They understand what
is, and the what is that had been going on for days must have been an eternity
to the dogs. For me, knowing that a destination waits at the end of a long
journey makes the tedium bearable, being in the limbo of perpetual motion must
have been difficult for them, as the miles and hours added up, the frequent
stops to pee, eat and stretch the only breaks in the monotony.
The first
people in line were the first to be introduced to their new pet. If those
people were anything like me and Cheryl they had seen the pictures, read the
description of their new friend, researched the breed, knew kind of what to
expect, yet were still anxious over what waited for them. Adopting a homeless
pet is a risky venture-especially one that had been transported over a thousand
miles to find a home.
“Michael, look at him!” Cheryl said, barely able to contain her
excitement. One of the people from the transport company had opened a side door
of the trailer, the one nearest the cab and stepped out, holding the first
adoptee. He wasn’t at all what I expected. I had envisioned a scared little
rascal; timid, shy and unwilling so socialize. Instead, a bundle of energy and
love appeared, and was handed off to his new owners. They let him onto the
ground, and he circled his new owners, sniffed and sniffed some more then
graciously let his new mom pick him up and hold him in her arms. The lady was
overwhelmed with joy, and tears streamed down her face as she walked past us,
holding the brown, mixed Labrador, hound dog, terrier thing so tightly I
thought he might be crushed. But he wasn’t crushed, not even close. He was as
overjoyed as she was, and he licked her face, and she didn’t mind, and the
lady’s husband followed, a smile on his face that appeared as soon as he saw
his new friend come out of the truck, and grew wider as he saw the effect his
new friend had on his wife. It was a look of pure joy, true, uncomplicated,
uninterrupted by phones or TV’s or internets- just a middle-aged man and his
dog and his wife who was beyond happy, and they left, the three of them, lost
in their new world that will revolve around their pet who had traveled so far
to be with them.
“This is incredible,” I said to Cheryl as the man from the truck company
went inside to get another one. She smiled then, a true, soulful smile that
transcended time and place, and caught me, and I smiled too, and didn’t stop
for hours.
We leaned on the hood of our car, not wanting to rush things, content
for once to stand back and let what was happening happen. It was enough just to
live in the moment and share that moment with a group of people who, for a
little while anyway, forgot about their busy lives and focused on the miracle
that was happening to us right now.
