Often our family visits the animal shelter to check on its temporary residents. As we pace the hall of cages, I often wonder how long they have been there. I stop at every cage to say hello, careful not to raise their excitement level too
high. I never want to leave them with false hope, or have them become desensitized to the frequent human visits. I
read their story, look into their eyes, and continue to wonder about their life prior to their current predicament. When I
approach the cage in the back, I read the identifying sign “I am a senior.” My heart sinks. Who will adopt them? Why are
they here? If I adopt a senior, I will lose them too soon, but someone will adopt them. Right?