I left work early. There was a Border Collie in the shelter who was not going to be adopted out of there. He had failed the temperament test - twice. The shelter had emailed and asked if we had room for him in our rescue. His name was Mike. I pulled into the parking lot and smiled at the sight of a young girl dressed up like Cinderella. She had a long blue gauze dress on over her yellow sweatshirt. A disheveled pale blond wig sat awkwardly over her black hair, and she waved a crooked glitter-covered wand about. “Abra ka dabra! Everybody gets a new home!”

Walking behind Cinderella was her mother. She was carrying a box with the lid partially open. As I followed them into the shelter, I could not help but wonder what was in the box. The contents of the box squirmed occasionally, producing scratching sounds, and a long blue shirt dangled out the end.

Cinderella and her mother set the box down at one end of the counter while I walked to the other end and waited. The shelter was busy today. Perhaps, and unfortunately, it is busy every day. Staff people moved quickly across the lobby to the kennel areas, oblivious to anyone who walked in without an animal. I waited.

The lobby was as clean as it could possibly be, considering the amount of activity. On the end of the counter sat three small cages with white mice and gerbils. Near the door, a cockatiel sang happily as it bounced about in the tall cage. Lining two opposite walls were cages stacked three high, containing perhaps fifty cats of varying colors, sizes and ages. In addition, hanging in the air was the smell of the shelter. The smell was a mixture of feces, cat urine, and frightened animals.

“Hello, can I help you?” A blond-haired woman behind the desk smiled politely to me.

“Yes. I’m Grace Saalsaa. I called yesterday about the Border Collie – Mike, is his name. I’m from Border Collie rescue.”

“Oh! Thank you for coming! I’m glad you’re here. Hang on for just a few minutes. I’ve got some stuff that I have to take care of right now and then we’ll go back and get Mike.”

I glanced at her nametag: Kimberly.

Cinderella and her mother were now talking to another employee. The mother had a concerned look on her face as she cautiously opened the box just a bit for the employee to take a peek. The box emitted another flurry of scrambling sounds, and the lid went back down quickly.

“I didn’t know what to do. So I brought it here. I think it’s going to die. What do you think? Did I do the right thing bringing it here?” “We’ll take care of it, poor little thing.”

“Thank you so much. Can I call you later on - to see how it is?”

“Sure. Here: you might as well pull your blue shirt out of there. Yes, you can call. Just ask for me. And thank you for all you’ve done.” The employee smiled and gently pulled the blue shirt out of the box. Another set of scrambling sounds came from within. Cinderella smiled and patted the box.

“Good-bye!” She danced out the door with her mother.

I never did find out what was in the box.

A tall handsome man in his mid-twenties stood at the center of the counter, waiting. His hair was neatly trimmed. A soft gray tee shirt hung comfortably over his broad shoulders. He stuffed one hand into the back pocket of his stylishly faded jeans as his patience began to wear just a bit thin.

It appeared to me that the employees were intentionally avoiding speaking to him. They averted their eyes, worked very hard at being busy – too busy – to speak to him. Finally, the man caught the attention of the employee wearing a knit snowboard hat. “Cornered,” the employee sat down behind the desk and the tall man at the middle of the counter spoke.

“Well? What did you find out? Where are my two cats? Do you have them here? The police said you have them here.”

The employee fidgeted with his earring for a moment and plunged in.

“Um… (sigh) … yes, the police brought your two cats in two weeks ago. I’m sorry… I’m sorry.”

“What do you meant ‘you’re sorry?’ Where are my two cats? I love my cats. I love my cats. Where are they?”

The employee twisted in his seat.

“I’m sorry. You didn’t come in for them and we could only hold them for a week. I’m sorry.”

“Are you saying you killed them? You killed my two cats? You killed both of my cats?! They had collars, and they had tags and everything. They were always up to date on their vaccinations. They were never without water and I fed them the very best. You killed my cats…”

He clenched his fists as tears began streaming down his cheeks. A look of shock and dismay, of hopelessness and despair consumed him. There was nothing he could do now except weep.

“I’m sorry…” the employee looked down at the floor. The rest of the employees behind the counter were silent and obviously upset. “You’re landlord called the police and said to come get the cats because they had been abandoned – “

“NO! I would NOT abandon my cats! I loved them! I was gone on vacation for two weeks. I had arranged for a friend to come over and take care of them. I called him every three days and he said…”

Slowly, the man wiped tears from his face, turned and walked out. He slammed his fist against the glass door as he left. Everyone stood motionless. There was a deep sadness on each face, and I too, felt the sadness. This incident should never have happened. Two beloved cats had died for naught.

The shelter is only required to keep an animal for seven days. I glanced over my shoulder and considered the fifty cats in the cages behind me. Only seven days…

“Grace. Let’s go get Mike,” Kimberly had suddenly appeared by my side. She smiled at me, knowing that I had witnessed the whole conversation. But what could she do? There was only one thing that could be done: get on with it.
Get Mike.

As we walked past the many cats, my eyes landed on the neatly handwritten note clipped to one of the cat cages.

The cat had a beautiful invitingly soft charcoal coat. She looked sweetly into my face with calm eyes. When she saw that she had my attention, she left her blanket in the corner of the cage and walked up to the front. She squeezed her paw through the grid to reach me.

"I'm sorry darling. I cannot take you with me," I whispered to her. She looked at me for a couple more seconds and then curled up in the corner again. Only seven days…

A gray metal door separated the lobby from the narrow hallway that led to the three kennels. Industrial doors, painted cinderblock walls, the concrete floor, and chain link gates - all familiar but not the kind of thing one would find in the home. A garden hose wormed its way across the floor. I braced myself as Kimberly opened the door marked

"Kennel 3."

It did not seem to matter how many times I have walked through the shelters. There was always a dog or two that grabbed my heart - and I knew I could not take that dog with me. The dog was never a Border Collie.

As soon as the door opened the dogs began barking. A beautiful young pitbull stood with his front feet on his kennel door with her lower jaw quivering and her eyes fixed on Kimberly. She desperately needed to tell Kimberly something. Kimberly sweet-talked to her - but made no move toward her. After all, this was not a visit for the pitbull. It was for Mike.

Next to the pitbull was a tiny little Sheltie. Her face was intense with worry and the front of her white chest was now looking a bit ragged and dingy. She too, placed her delicate little paws on her kennel door. With ears held high, she stressed and every fiber of her tiny being said she wanted to be out of this place. She was young and thin … a little too thin. I wanted to scoop her up and say:

"I'll take this one with me right now!"

Yes, there it was: the dog that would grab my heart and make me wish I could help. But I was here to meet Mike.

"Now, I'll warn you about Mike. He gets really excited when he sees anybody standing in front of his cage door. He bounces off the door!"

We walked passed the dainty little sheltie and the look of despair settled over her pretty little face. Mike sat very still and quiet, pressed tight against the door. His whole body was tensed for action, and I wondered if he'd shoot out the door once it had opened far enough.

"Oh… now look at him sitting there quietly - making a liar out of me," she turned as smiled at me. She opened the kennel door far enough to slip a choke chain over Mike's head, and he stepped out calmly.

Mike was beautiful. His body was nicely muscled and he walked like an athlete with a smooth, effortless glide. He was light on his feet as he turned and headed straight for the gray metallic door. He shot a shy glance up at me and averted his eyes quickly when we made eye contact. He was familiar with Kimberly - but I was an unknown.

"Fair enough," I thought, and I followed the two back out into the lobby.

Kimberly handed Mike's green leash to me, and I walked him outside to the large play yard. Mike, obviously used to the yard, sat down quietly as he waited for the gate to open. Once inside, I expected him to leap into action - but no. He sat down.

To be continued...

MidAmerica Border Collie Rescue is a 501(c)(3) non-profit organization