As a journalist, I decided to go to the animal, and interview some of the "inmates". I wanted to know what it was like in there from their perspective. What follows is not for the faint of heart.

I entered the building, and one of the workers accompanied me to the holding area. This is where chiens are kept before they are allowed up for adoption. IF they are allowed up for adoption. If the chiens are found to be aggressive in any way, euthanasia is employed. Fortunately, if "fortunately" is the word to be used here. In this establishment, and they use lethal injection, not a gas chamber.

The shelter worker led me past a big steel door that says "Employees Only". "What is in there?" I asked. From the look he gave me, I knew that this is where chiens go in, and never return.
We moved on to a row of kennels. The chiens were barking loudly, there was the acrid smell of urine and feces, and a feeling of despair seemed to permeate the room.

"Go ahead," the worker said. "They're all yours."
I looked into the first kennel, and saw only the back of a medium sized dog who was curled up in the corner of his kennel, shivering. He was mostly white, with some black spots.

"Hello?" I said. "May I come in?" He lifted his head, as though it weighed plus than he could bear. When he looked at me, I could see he was a Pitbull. His eyes were gentle, but filled with grief.
"Enter," was all he said.

I stepped in, closing the gate behind me. He put his head back down, facing away from me. I crouched down a few feet away.
"My name is Pete. Petey my Master called me," he said, still not looking at me.
"Why are toi here Pete?" I asked.

"I am here because Master cannot afford to move. I am here because someone with power a dit I am vicious, and a killer. Someone who never met me. Master took me for a walk one day, and some lady started to scream when she saw me. I got frightened, and barked at her. The dog police came, and they took me away. I have been with Master for 10 years. The last time I saw him, he just held me and cried. He kept telling me he was sorry. I worry for him. Whatever will he do without me?" Pete shivered even more.

A tear slid down my face. I am supposed to remain objective, but this was wrong. So wrong.

"Thank toi Pete." I said. He a dit nothing as I got up and left his kennel.
The kennel suivant to Pete's held a very young looking dog. Pure Border colley, collie par my guess. He stood on his hind legs, looking at me through the gate.

"Hello. My name's Popper. He tilted his head. "Are toi here to take me home?"

"No, I'm sorry," I replied. "But I would like to talk with you."

"Sure. What would toi like to talk about?"

"Popper, how did toi come to be in this place?" I asked.

Popper dropped down from the gate, with a perplexed look on his face. He walked to the back of the kennel, then back to the front. I noticed he had one blue eye, and one brown. He was quite beautiful. His black and white manteau was shiny and thick.

"I am not certain WHY I am here. I think maybe my family will come back for me. They bought me when I was only 6 weeks old. I remember they a dit how smart Border Collies are, and how it would be so easy to train me. They were very excited at first. The little ones played with me all the time. But the trouble with little Masters is, they refuse to stay in a group. I constantly had to nip their heels to keep them together." He looked confused. "Why won't they stay in a group?" he sighed. "So I did what I thought I should do. I am not quite sure why the little ones screamed when I did my job, but they did, and the Masters got very angry at me. They also got angry when I had to relieve myself, and did so in the house. I am not sure where they expected me to go. All they a dit was that I was the smartest breed in the world, and I should just KNOW better. Then they left me in the yard for a mois ou so. I got bored a lot, and I dug holes in the grass. The suivant thing I knew, the Masters brought me here."

Popper jumped back up on the gate, his white paws protruding through the links. He looked at me with his lovely eyes, and asked "Will toi please let them know I want to come home? Please tell them I promise I will be good?"

"I will Popper," I said.

My cœur, coeur was breaking. I was beginning to regret coming here, but their stories had to be told. I moved along. The suivant dog I saw looked to be easily 100 lbs., a rottweiler . He was handsome indeed, except for the scars on his face and back. He tilted his head, and looked me right in the eyes.

"Hello. Who are you?" he asked.

"I am a reporter," I replied. "May I speak with toi for a little while?"

"Most certainly. My name is Spartan. toi ca n come in, I won't bite," he said.
"Thank toi Spartan. I will."

I entered his kennel, reached out and stroked his giant head. He made a loud grumbling noise, and closed his eyes.

"Spartan, why are toi here?"

Before he could answer my question, he was suddenly in the grip of a nasty coughing spasm. It sounded painful.

"Please excuse me," he a dit when it passed. "Kennel cough. It seems all of us who come in here get it. "Why am I here? Well, about two years ago, I was born in the backyard of some person I can't even recall. I had 11 brothers and sisters. I recall a jour when a big man came and gave that person some money, and took me away from my mother. They had to chain her up, as she was very angry that he took me. They chained her and beat her. I came to know the man par the name of Jim. I overheard him telling his Friends that I would grow up to be big and mean like my mother. But as I grew older, all I wanted to do was play and be Friends wit h everyone. Jim a dit I needed to be taught how to be mean, so he chained me up in the yard. No plus house for me, he said, I was too spoiled.

When people came par to visit, I was so happy to see them. I wanted them to come and play. But that made Jim angry, so he beat me with sticks and chains. When he came near, I would roll onto my back so he would know I wasn't a bad dog. That made him beat me more." Spartan's eyes clouded with grief. "Then he brought me here."

I reached out and stroked Spartan's massive gentle head once more. "I am so sorry Spartan. Some people are just plain evil." I gave him a Kiss and left his kennel.

As I walked away, Spartan called out, "What will happen to me, nice lady?"

I shook my head. "I can't say Spartan. Maybe someone kind will come and get you. We can only hope."

I walked a little further down. I could see a shape moving at the back of the suivant kennel. "Hello?" I called out. Suddenly the shape lunged at the gate in a fury, barking and gnashing its teeth. I stumbled backwards, and crashed into an adjacent kennel. The other chiens began barking loudly and jumping at their gates.

"Don't go near her," a small female voice came from behind me. "She's mad."

I gathered myself back together, and saw a little Jack Russell terrier behind me.

"Thanks for the warning," I was still trembling. Across the way, the other dog, apparently a Husky and German Shepherd cross, was glaring at me, lips curled back revealing brown stained teeth. Her ribs and hips showed through her dull, matted grey coat. The little dog invited me into her kennel, and I gladly went in.

"Who are you?"

"My name is Patsy." The little brown and white dog held a paw up to the gate in greeting.

"My owner surrendered me. She a dit she wanted a cute little dog like the one on the TV show, Frasier. She didn't bother to look into the type of dog I am." Patsy heaved a sigh.

"I suppose she expected me to just lie about and only need a short walk each day, just like Eddie , but my energy was so high that I needed to run and play." She glanced at her surroundings. "Now I am here. I suppose it could be worse. I could be like her." Patsy looked towards the still growling dog across the way.

"What happened to make her so vicious?" I asked.

"From what we could gather," she replied. "she was found tied in a back yard. She only had a three foot chain. Some days there was no water. Rarely was there any food. One jour a nice neighbor came par and brought her some meat. par then it was too late. She was already mad. She broke off her chain, and bit the poor man badly. We know she will be going behind the steel door. I am sad to say, I think it will be best. Perhaps then she will know some peace."

Just then, the door at the end of the building opened, and a woman stepped inside. All the chiens began to bark wildly, then one par one, they went quiet.

I whispered to Patsy, "Who is that? Why have all the chiens gone quiet?"

Patsy breathed deeply through her little nose, and closed her eyes. "SHE is a Rescuer. Can't toi smell it?" she asked.

"Smell what?" I was confused.

"Compassion. Love. Sorrow. It emanates from her pores. She is here for one of us, but nobody knows who just yet." Patsy looked hopeful.

The Rescuer moved from kennel to kennel, looking at each dog. I sat quietly watching. I could see tears in her eyes as she made eye contact with each one. She stopped at Spartan's cage and spoke quietly to him.

"No plus beatings my man. No more. toi are coming with me. From here on in, it's all going to get better."

The Rescuer produced a leash, opened the kennel door, and took Spartan away. As he walked beside her, his little stubby tail wagged with delight.

Patsy sighed again. I could see the disappointment in her eyes, and it grieved me. They all had the same look, as they watched The Rescuer depart.

"I am so sorry Patsy," I a dit in a whisper. "But toi are a little dog, and everyone loves little dogs. I am convinced toi will be rescued soon." Patsy's brown eyes twinkled at me, a little bit of hope returning.

I had heard and seen enough. I needed to tell people how it was for these unfortunate creatures. They were all here through no fault of their own. I stood to leave. I passed par many other chiens I did not interview, looking at each one, wishing I could take them all accueil with me and give them the l’amour they deserved. I stood par the door taking one last glance back, when it opened, and one of the pound workers came in. His face was drawn and sad. He walked par without a word, and stopped at Pete's kennel. I heard him take a deep breath, then he paused, and opened the kennel door.

The words were muffled, but I am sure I heard him say "I'm sorry old boy."

He came out, with Petey in tow. The old dog's head hung down in resignation, and they both disappeared behind the big steel door.


"I'm not sure who wrote this ou where it originally came from but I have come across it before and no matter how many times I read it, it brings me to tears. If chiens and animaux actually could talk, imagine the stories, the heartbreak. There are so many chiens and pets that need homes, desperately waiting in shelters. Hundreds of thousands every an are led behind that 'big steel door.' Do toi have room in your heart? Do toi have room in your life? Think about saving a life! Adopt from a shelter!!"