by Terri Johnson Florentino
I slowly stood up and backed away, careful not to alarm Buddy. As my friend and I discussed his background, I purposely ignored him, but watched his body language in my peripheral view.
His hackles went down, his lips went down, and the growling stopped. I even saw him glance at me. He seemed to want to approach, but was too afraid. A few other border collies were running about not paying any attention to him, nor he to them. “Let’s put him in the crate in my truck,” I said. “I’ll take him home and see what I can do.” Before I left, I got the name and number of his previous owners.
I pulled into my driveway and opened the back door of my truck. To be safe, I had kept the leash on Buddy and left part dangling outside the crate…
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