The night was clear and beautiful. We had met early at our appointed parade position to represent the pet shelter. South Texas winters are mild so I had hoped for it to be cold enough to seem like Christmas. The 50 degrees and soft breeze felt good. We donned our Santa hats and enjoyed a few good laughs as we maneuvered our dogs into costume. The front walkers would carry the shelter banner and the rest of us would follow with our dogs on leashes. Finally the procession moved forward slowly.
Crowds of people, snuggled in warm coats and wraps, lined both sides of the street. Many of them waved and called holiday wishes to us. The children's eyes seemed to light up like Christmas lights as they watched the dogs go by. A Dalmation, dressed as Cinderella, tugged with excitement at the end of the leash and little hands reached out to pet her. One tiny dog rode inside his owner's jacket and peeked shyly from the collar! A little Dachshund bounced happily along in a Dallas Cowboys cheerleader vest, and my little Susie trotted with her tail held high in her green and white sweater and big red bow. What a happy moment!
Each of these dogs seemed to know they were in the spotlight, and their zest for life shined. Yet not one of these dogs would have been there had it not been saved from the pound. Each one of them had, at one time, been abandoned at the pound, frightened and waiting for their life to end, the victim of indifferent humans. Had it not been for the wonderful work of the shelter, not one of these dogs would have experienced this fun night.
I watched my Susie walking easily beside me wearing her "doggy" smile. She enjoyed the crowd and had no fear of the noises and lights. Once, when horses passed near us, she stopped and watched with curiosity. Yes, Susie was having a grand time. I thought back to the times she stood at the fence at home and barked furiously at neighborhood cats who wandered by, of the times she lay sunning in warm spring grass, of the times she bounced like a yo-yo in excitement when I returned home to her, of the times her little tail wagged as if spring-loaded, in anticipation of a special treat, and of the past three parades we had taken part in together. She'd certainly lived many years of the good life, many years doing "doggy" things that were important to her. It would have been a shame if she had died as a puppy at the pound.
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