Concrete Prison

Concrete Prison

Everyday Sam sits in his playpen, a shiny wire cage, shivering with excitement as wide-eyed children and adults pass by him. His tail wags with the vigor of an oscillating fan. Maybe today is the day that he will get his very own human.

Sam is just a puppy chasing a wavering orange leaf as it drifts through the crisp autumn air. His velvety soft light brown fur glistens in the warm afternoon sun. He has brown eyes the size of silver dollars and a shiny black patch covering his left eye. He’s a mutt, but as cute as a teddy bear off the shelf in a toy store and he anxiously yearns for a home.

Sam imagines his human will take him on long walks down the sandy beach, throw a Frisbee for him to catch at the park and share a warm, cozy bed with him every night. He’ll grow old and smelly with his human, and won’t even get in trouble when he sheds pile after pile of his fluffy brown fur. Sam can’t wait for the endless head pats and back scratches so enjoyed that his leg will shake uncontrollably.

As the crowd of humans stop at the cage of a brilliant white poodle, Sam loudly barks to draw the people back to him. They don’t come. Sadly, today isn’t the day Sam will finally go home with his human. With a small whimper he curls around in a circle and plops down in his cage knocking over his water bowl. He drifts to sleep and into a dream of playing tug-o-war with his human. His legs kick and tail wags as he dreams, and he’s almost convinced it’s real.

The clinking splatter of dog food into metal bowls wakes Sam. Time has passed through many autumns and he no longer has the strength to chase falling leaves. His once roomy cage is no longer his playpen. It’s his cramped and rusted prison. Sam struggles to stand fully and doesn’t even bother to try anymore most days. His constant sitting has rubbed the fur off of his knees and they are now covered in scabby sores that never heal. The chew toys and