Rescuer

Dog fighting

Her stomach turned

            dogs already packed up

            crated up

            shipped off

            entombed behind shadows

Not the first time and not the last

            Not the first time was this dog in the ring

            Not the first time was she in the ring

Hand reaching for the cage, to free the dog from its metal trappings

            She withdrew as the dog started snapping

Frowning she hesitated

            Anesthesia shot in hand she stuck it in a patch of fur behind the head

            Cage so cramped

            So easy to reach for the exposed neck

The dog snarled through the bar

            Before it went under

Aggression pouring off even the sleeping body

            Muscle bound

            Big

            Intimidating

Who would want the dog?

            Her stomach twisted

Perhaps...she stared at the euthanasia shot she also carried

            Too commonly the only thing to do at dog fights

            So often the only thing that was left

            Too many times they were too late

She would try

            She called the vet

Heaved the heavy but emaciated body into the front seat

            Arranging small paws delicately across the leather seats

            Coated in hair and the scent of other dogs

Sewed up

Stitched up

By a vet that seemed to always be on call

She brought her home for, confined even to the bathroom

            The dog paced nervously

            Too big a space

Too much room in her heart

            More space than the dog had ever had

Overwhelming

Whites of the eyes reflected the color of the linoleum floor

More fear than she showed death

Perhaps...would it be kinder?

She stared at the fighter.