A Simple Wish
A short story
The birthday candles would not blow out. The flames laughed at her. She wasn’t old. She was forty, but that still wasn’t old. And it was only two candles on a small, chocolate cake, and they were having the time of their lives. But she wasn’t.
Sarah finally blew the candles out. She watched the smoke rise up into the air. She hoped that the alarm would not turn on. How would she explain that one to her boss? She glanced over at the cages nearby. They were quiet, probably fascinated by the smoke in the air. The only light on was by the door, and nobody was coming in at this hour. In a few minutes, she would go home, alone and eat her cake.
A strange sound filled the room. It sounded like crying. No. A whimper? That wasn’t right. A song? Someone was humming. Happy Birthday?
The old dog was lying down in her cage. She barely stood up these days. She barely ate or drank. If they were at a kill shelter, she would have been already gone, and the sound was coming from her. Happy Birthday to you…
How the hell did the dog know this song, but then Sarah remembered. Her owner was a ninety-year-old woman that died in a car accident. None of her family wanted the dog, which was why she ended up in the shelter, and no one wanted to adopt her because she was an old dog. And the old dog hummed that song. Every word. She must have heard so many happy birthdays, shared so many memories that were now gone.
The tears on Sarah’s face surprised her. She bawled as the dog hummed, but when the dog realized Sarah’s agony, she stopped. She pulled herself up, wobbling a little, and moved over to her. She pressed her face against the bars and licked Sarah’s hand.
“Thank you.” Sarah wiped her tears aside. She stared into those deep browns. “I’ll be right back.” She walked away but then saw a painful look in the old dog’s eyes. She had seen so many people walk away and leave her behind. “No. Not me,” and Sarah returned, unlocking the cage. “I’m not going to leave you,” and she strapped a leash to the dog’s collar. “You’re coming home with me.” The sadness in the old dog’s eyes faded away. “Now, come on. Let’s go,” and Sarah walked her past the other cages.
Sarah reached for the lights but turned to look at the others. She didn’t feel bad for a lot of them were young. Some papers hung from the cages. They were going to a home. They would learn the birthday song and share many memories like her, and she looked down at the old dog, who thumped her tail, hoping, wishing Sarah would not change her mind and return her back to where she did not want to go. Sarah opened the door, and they walked outside.
