Sometimes life didn’t need big changes to shift; it needed just a small idea that refused to leave. And this idea had stayed. So when they visited the shelter a few days later, neither of them expected the right dog to appear almost immediately.
Emily had expected the shelter to be loud — but not *this* loud. Barking ricocheted off the concrete walls, a steady chorus of excitement and nerves. The air was warm and carried the clean, astringent scent of disinfectant overlying something earthier. They walked slowly down the central aisle, kennels on either side. Most of the dogs rushed forward, jumping and barking for attention. Lily, perched on David’s hip, buried her face in his neck at the sudden onslaught.
Then, about halfway down the row, one dog wasn’t barking. He was a medium-sized mix with wiry, russet-colored fur and intelligent, watchful eyes. He sat calmly at the front of his kennel, his tail giving a single, tentative thump against the floor as they approached. A handwritten note on his card read: “Samson – 3 years. Gentle. Good with kids.” Emily stopped. David stopped beside her. Samson didn’t jump. He simply looked at them, then at Lily, and gave a soft, low whine that was nearly lost in the cacophony.
“He’s not making a sound,” David observed, his voice barely audible over the din. “He sees her,” Emily whispered. Lily, curious now, peeked out from David’s shoulder. She stared at the dog, her wide eyes meeting his. Slowly, she lifted a chubby hand and pointed. “Da?” “Yeah,” David said, his grip on her adjusting. “That’s a dog.”
An attendant, a young woman with a kind smile, noticed their prolonged stop. “That’s Samson. He’s been here a few weeks. He’s a sweetheart, just a bit quiet. Gets overlooked.” Emily knelt down, bringing herself to eye level with the kennel door. Samson stood up and took two slow steps forward, then lowered his head slightly, sniffing the air between the bars.
“Can we meet him?” Emily asked, looking up at David. He saw the hope, bright and fragile, in her eyes. He looked back at the dog, who was now sitting again, perfectly still except for that slowly wagging tail. “Just to meet,” David said, echoing their earlier agreement. The attendant nodded eagerly. “Of course. I’ll get a lead and take you to the visitation room.” As she walked away, Emily remained kneeling. Samson let out a quiet sigh, as if he, too, had been holding his breath.