Adopted
by KJ Hannah Greenberg

 

 

It was never a matter of food - the Jones lived in a McMansion. Likewise, it wasn’t that Sally had lost her love for snuggling - she was content to sit on laps or to scootch her head under chins. The problem was interest; the kids were no longer excited about keeping her.

 

Ten years earlier, Sally had been a birthday gift for them. However, when they grew up and left home, neither wanted to take her along. Sure, her upkeep was simple; she needed only food and water, a place to toilet, and regular medical care. Nonetheless, neither Gidget nor Bridgette wanted to be encumbered.

 

Besides, as Sally aged, she needed more medical care, was less cuddly, and, in general, tried to hide in corners where her minders couldn’t reach. She had transformed from a delight to  burden. The sisters had even discussed euthanasia.

 

Nonetheless, Sally’s regular medico refused to arrange a “mercy killing.” For him, putting down Sally required her to have objective physical demise; senescent didn’t count. So, her young owners researched black market providers, many of whom advertised on social media (Sally’s carers were reluctant to starve her or otherwise to force “natural causes” upon her.)

 

Over popcorn plus rum and Coke, at Gidget’s apartment, they made mention of how odd it had been that Mom and Pop had actually paid for their pet. Sally had no distinguishing markings and was not a brilliant color. She wasn’t overly clever or especially well-dispositioned, either.

 

Most families acquired companions from parks, dumps, and garbage cans. Some “altruistic” families rescued theirs from roadsides. In those cases, the garnered familiars had often suffered car injuries and, as a result, had required expensive rehabilitation.

 

At any rate, the sisters had stopped enjoying Sally’s company once she had begun to leak goop out of her left eye. After all, antibiotics for such cases, ordinarily, had to be applied twice daily for weeks. What’s more, her hips refused to stay aligned and she howled almost hourly from pain. Whereas her type was known to be cursed with problems of that sort, the girls had never imagined that they’d also have to tolerate clamor.

 

Maintaining Sally was becoming increasingly ruinous for those young adults’ social lives. They preferred getting intoxicated and sleeping with strangers to returning home to fill her bowl, change her water, and take her on her two daily walks (since Mom and Pop had aged out of caring for her, Gidget and Bridgette took turns watching over her.)

 

Finally, Gidget called a no kill shelter and Bridgette called one that culled inmates that were unclaimed for ninety days. As it was, both accommodations had no vacancies.

 

Bridgette proposed leaving Sally in front of the local fire department’s door. That branch had a chute for unwanted babies. Maybe, they’d accept Sally, too (her face, often enough, looked forlorn.) Maybe, she’d qualify for the Safe Haven program without radiating a countenance of abandonment.

 

“If only we had bred her and sold her offspring,” intoned Gidget upon visiting Bridgette’s dorm.

 

“She was no longer capable when she was rehomed with our family,” answered Bridgette. “I think we should just bring her to the river and leave her there.”

 

“Okay with me. I never wanted her, anyway.”

 

“If the authorities find out, though, we’ll be banned from any future adoptions.”

 

“No problem.”

 

“Lots of people blame us college students, saying that when we go home for the summer, we desert our pets.”

 

“They’re right. Why don’t we leave her in the woods near my Art History professor’s house? He’s a sap. I’m sure, if he sees her, he won’t let her freeze to death.”

 

“And if he doesn’t?”

 

“Then she’ll freeze to death.”

 

Unceremoniously, the sisters dumped Sally in those woods. She whined for a bit while watching the girls’ car drive out of sight and then borrowed into a large pile of leaves. She was cold. Her left hip hurt. Both of her eyes were fogged by a gelatinous-like sludge.

 

Over the next few days, birds pecked at her, a nonvenomous snake nipped her, and she twisted her left foot. A small creek supplied her with water and roots became her sup. She endured food poisoning

 

Fortunately, not too many hours after Sally had lost consciousness, she was located by the professor’s wife. That good woman had walked into the woods to give scatter seeds for birds and chipmunks.

 

Immediately, she shed her coat to cover the unconscious figure. Then she ran home to get her husband. The stray looked too heavy for her to lift without injuring it.

 

The professor laid Sally on the carpet in front of the family’s fireplace. He called for medical help.

 

Sally received several courses of IVs. She needed to be rehydrated, to add calories, and to ward off tick bite infections. Although she had to be caged at the clinic, her space was covered with soft, warm fabric.

 

She recovered and lived out the last of her years with the professor and his wife. Given that her estimated age was eighty, no one was surprised that she died scant years after being found.

 

Finding a homeless elder, sadly, had not been shocking. What was surprising to the professor and his wife was that their granddaughter reported that previous societies treated extreme seniors differently. Apparently, in the past, families set their matriarchs and patriarchs on funeral pyres or icebergs, preferring to separate from them via fire or water.

 

Even more bizarre were cultures that kept ancient adults with their biological families or that settled them in communities designed especially for their needs. Primitive civilizations wasted many resources on people older than fifty-five.

 

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