ADDISON

This post comes from an email I got from a friend. IT was so powerful that I asked if I could share it on my blog. So…here it is.

Today we went to the shelter, as we often do on a Saturday, because she likes to keep track of the dogs available for adoption. We walked into the room and there was a young black dog, belly-up on the floor, getting attention from the teen volunteers. There was the isolation crate where a new dog was observing from a distance. A yippy dog, active puppies, a braying hound dog- it was a mass sensation of dog melting into the aura of the room- each crate made a contribution. Except one.

To the left of the vocal, over-sized hound was a crate much larger than the medium black dog needed. Sitting near the front of the crate yet still drawn into herself was a sweet face and eyes nearly afraid to hope. I met her gaze as she moved closer to the door, wondering if I would touch her. Her eyes were hopeful, but her body language wasn’t anxious. She was prepared to be ignored.

As I began to pet her through the door of her crate, I felt her lean into my touch. Her eyes told her story even before I read the intake form on her crate. Her name was Addison. She was there because she had been rescued from cruelty. I felt a surprising urge to cry. Somehow, in the midst of the barking and the chaos of smells, I saw a glimpse of the little girl I remember.

Alone in a crowd, never fully retreating yet also never comfortable fully participating. Bold enough to stay silent, yet too fearful to turn away. Always watching. Always wondering if anyone will see. Hopeful yet fearful. Wondering what touch to expect. Hoping for kindness, but expecting- what? What exactly is it that sits hard inside my soul? Is it cruel? Is it love? Is it hate? It feels like shame, but who does it belong to? It seems to be mine to carry, but somehow that still feels wrong- as wrong as joy feels.

This is my life; a cage of doubt, living in the spaces that make no sense, inside a world where words are needed, but none can give me a voice. If you want to communicate, you need a message. I don’t know what to say. Help? But how do I know you can be trusted? How would you help me? How do I know you won’t leave me worse than you found me? Love me? I really don’t have a clue about love- it doesn’t feel like it seems to be in those books about goodnight kisses and laughter and safety.

I don’t feel comfortable drawing attention to how different I am, so I’ll just try to figure out how to be the way you want me to be. I’ll come to you, but you’ll never have all of me. I’ll laugh, but you’ll never understand why. I’ll cry, but you’ll never see me.

I’ll run, but you’ll never chase me.

I’ll hide, but it will be in plain sight.

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