Some birds weren't meant to be caged. Their feathers are just too bright.

Although the title of this post is from The Shawshank Redemption, the story is from Good Will Hunting. There’s a great scene where Ben Affleck’s character Chuckie tells Matt Damon’s character Will that he’s wasting his god given talent by working a dead end job in a nothing town. Chuckie says that every morning when he comes to pick Will up, he hopes that he won’t be there; that he will have moved on to something bigger and somewhere better. At the end of the movie, Chuckie pulls up at Will’s house to pick him up for work. He honks the horn and then knocks on the door thinking that Will overslept. Chuckie peers inside the window and sees the empty room, all of Will’s belongings gone. Chuckie smiles, happy for his friend but also a bit sad knowing that his world will be that much more drab without him.

That’s how I feel every time I enter the shelter. I look forward to seeing the dogs that I’ve connected with week after week but hope that they are gone; sleeping soundly in the beds of little boys and girls, heads nuzzled on warm over-stuffed pillows. Some place better.

Unfortunately, I’ve been seeing the same faces over and over again. This is one of my favorites, Fonzie. Today when he saw me, he jumped up and down, dancing and howling. He definitely remembers me. I went into his cage and immediately hugged him. Fonzie couldn’t get close enough to me and nearly knocked me over. I quickly got him out of his cage. I can’t imagine the amount of stress it causes him to be in there hearing the other dogs barking on and off most of the day. I assume it’s like being in jail, having to sleep with one eye open. Some of the dogs, like Fonzie, have so much energy that it is in many ways a crime to lock them up.

As soon as he got outside and took care of business, we sprinted down the street. This allowed him the rare opportunity to stretch his legs, feel the wind on his fur and enjoy, if only for a little while, a sense of freedom. Upon returning from the walk, I gave him a treat and put him back in his cage. I told him that I would come back to play with him before I left. If there are no other volunteers at the shelter, like today, it takes me about an hour and a half to walk all of the dogs. I usually spend another 30 minutes going into their cages to play or simply rub bellies.

As promised, I returned to Fonzie’s cage before I left to play a strenuous game of tug of war. After a while, I closed the cage and said goodbye. I mindlessly told him that I would “see you later” but had to catch myself. The truth is that next week I hope that he won’t be there. And I will smile, happy for my friend, but also a little sad knowing that my world will be that much more drab without him.