I remember Raven when she was a pup, a bright young thing with a spring in her step. She's been returned by her owner now almost five years later. I have her outside and she seems diminished. She is fearful of the noise and the people. She doesn't want to walk. She looks at me to bring her back inside.
She's not a small dog but I carry her to a spot which is a little less trafficked where I can take some photos. She's not doing too badly. She just doesn't seem familiar with the environment. She doesn't seem familiar with being outside anymore.
On the way back, we pass by another TAS resident, an overweight, unkempt Cocker Spaniel. They give each other a sniff and for the first time, I see Raven wag her tail and then she twirls and goes into a play pose and jumps and twirls again. Then the Cocker moves on and the curtains fall and Raven is on her own again. I take her inside.
I spend a few minutes with her while chatting with others who pass by. She climbs onto the couch, snuggles against the armrest, lays her head down.
Raven has been transferred to the Toronto Humane Society.