Jimmy Wayne - Ruby the Foster Dog

BroadStreet Publishing Group, LLC

Racine, Wisconsin USA

BroadStreetPublishing.com

Ruby the Foster Dog

Copyright 2017 Jimmy Wayne

ISBN-13: 978-1-4245-5408-9 (hardcover)

ISBN-13: 978-1-4245-5439-3 (e-book)

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form, except for brief quotations in printed reviews, without permission in writing from the publisher.

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Editorial services provided by Ginger Garrett and Jackie Marushka Cover and interior by Garborg Design Works at garborgdesign.com Illustrations by Muza Ulasowski at muzadesigns.com

Printed in China
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For Ruby

The tornado siren screamed.

The small farming community just outside of White Deer, Texas, was under attack. Violent, whirling winds roared as rain slammed against the window in the dark office across the hallway. A bazillion bright bolts of lightning lit up the greenish-yellow sky.

I could see flashes of the fat funnel spinning in my direction. The employees at the animal shelter had already escaped. They had run for cover in a nearby underground cellar.

I couldnt escape. I was locked in a small cage, just like all the other dogs trapped inside the shelter. All I could do was curl up under my towel and close my eyes.

There were more lightning strikes, followed by deafening booms that shook the walls. The tornado roared toward us like a speeding freight train, the eerie sound of a phantom engine screaming past.

The floor and walls all around me squeaked and cracked. I peeked out from underneath my towel, almost expecting to see a ghost train bearing down on us. I saw only darkness and lightning strikes clawing at the earth.

There was a loud crash, and wind rushed through the broken window in the office across the hall, filling the shelter with warm air, causing the roof to lift off like a balloon. I could see the beams straining to hold on, to resist the overwhelming force fighting against them. What gave them their strength? How could they hold on?

The howls and cries from the other dogs scared me. The dog in the cage next to me frantically clawed at the door, desperate to escape.

The window blinds flapped then ripped free from the window. They slammed against the wall and fell. The wind yanked my towel away, trying to yank it through the bars of my cage.

The wind continued bullying the roof, pushing and pulling it like bullies do, but the nails would not give in. They held on to the rafters with all their might.

Finally the wind gave up. The roof relaxed. The walls stopped bending and the floors stopped moving under me. The tornado was gone. Bright sunlight split the dark sky.

I stood up and shook the glass and debris off my body, then looked around.

Carefully walking to the cage door, I stuck my nose through the wire as far as it would go. The air smelled like diesel fuel and sawdust. I looked up and down the hall. Was anyone out there? All the other dogs were sticking their noses through their doors and looking up and down the hall too. Every dog in the shelter was terrified and confusedeven the older, bigger dogs. We needed our people.

Hours went by. Finally, I heard someone opening the front door of the shelter.

It was one of the employees. We were safe! We all barked and yelped, wagging our tails. One by one, the employees entered the shelter. They slowly walked past our cages, glancing inside to see if we were alive.

We were, but we were quivering and in shock. We needed to be held.

The phone rang. An employee answered. Someones family was calling to make sure everyone was okay. All afternoon, the employees called their families, and their families called them. Each employee shared a story and even reenacted their near-death escape from the tornado. Each described how they had made it to the underground shelter just in time.

All the dogs stood at their cage doors, eavesdropping.

Were lucky to be alive, one employee said. I cant wait to go home and hug my family.

I barked, but they werent listening. The dogs were lucky to be alive too! Why hadnt they taken us to the underground shelter? Didnt they care about us? No one even seemed to notice we needed comfort. No one remembered we didnt have families. We felt invisible, and in some ways, that scared us more than the tornado.

The employees gathered in the office across the hall, complaining about the broken window. Glass was everywhere. The tornado had left them with a big mess.

I looked down at my paw. A little piece of glass had blown into the cage and cut my toe. I hadnt felt any pain when it happened, but now I did.

No one noticed that, either.

An employee grabbed a broom and started cleaning.

At least no one got hurt, he said, then whistled as he worked.

Within a few hours, things seemed back to normal around the shelter.

But life inside a shelter is anything but normal.

A musky, vinegary smell constantly lingered throughout the room. It was always cold as a cave but not nearly as quiet. Dogs begged for attention night and day. The thin, light-blue towel I was given to lie on barely kept me warm. I shivered whenever I tried to sleep.

I wanted out of here. I wanted a family.

The second hand on a big clock near the fire exit ticked, sounding like a sledgehammer slamming down on a steel railroad spike. Each tick echoed down the gray hallways where the cages were stacked. One on top of the other, we were stuck inside the cages like containers on cargo ships, as if people wanted to get rid of us one way or the other.

Inside each cage was a sad, innocent dog. Not one of us had done anything wrong. None of us deserved this.

This place was called a shelter, but we didnt feel protected. My cage had a big lock on the outside of the door. The cages ceiling, walls, and floor were made of dark metal bars that made a fence all the way around. I was a prisoner, not a pet.

The cage wasnt just ugly. It hurt. My little toes got trapped in the fenced floor when I tried to walk. My paws hurt if I stood too long too. I tried to stand anyway, though, staring through the bars at visitors whenever they walked by.

I overheard one of the employees at the shelter saying hed visited Alcatraz Island. He said it had a prison on it, and the prisoners were allowed to leave their cells, go outside, and get a breath of fresh air from time to time.

I envied them. The only sunlight I ever saw was through the office window when the blinds werent closed and pulled down. On a good day, the blinds were open and the sun was out. Then I could see the green trees covered with leaves. In the distance, I could see green grass and people smiling as they walked by with their dogs on leashes.