Josh stared at the rows of cages. They were everywhere. Dogs barked and cats yowled, and Josh watched dismally as his mother drove away. He was at the local animal shelter because his mother signed him up for volunteering without his consent. Now here he was, standing hopelessly in the shelter, with no idea what to do. He hated animals, ever since his aunt’s German shepherd, Lucy, bit his hand. He cried the whole way to surgery, mostly because he thought he lost Lucy’s love. His grandmother gave away Lucy soon after that. That was when he was five. Now here he was, seven years later, near dogs of many different shapes, sizes, and breeds. There were nervous, shaking Chihuahuas, bumbling, joyous golden retrievers, and intuitive border collies, picking diligently at the locks to their cages with their teeth, hoping to open them and run around.
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