I don't like animals. I don't hate them, but I don't love them either. I have no problem with them. I just don't have a strong liking for them. I had a small dog named Negrita when I was a small child (well, not small, because I've always been quite large for my age, I should say 'young') but when I moved to Miami, we left her behind. Then, when I was about 11 or 12, we lived in an apartment building where the owner had a cat named Ruby. My mom doesn't like pets, and she doesn't condone having them inside the house and all over the couches and beds. Henceforth, I have never had legitimate pets.
I was able to "expand my horizons" however more cliche that can possibly sound, walking big and small dogs, playing with cats and taking care of puppies. Everyone was jealous because I got to play with the one-month-old puppies, and I had no idea why. Sure, they're cute and whatnot, but I didn't like the puppies. I really do not see the appeal in them, and why people want to but them before the others. The sisters are small spotted puppies that love to jump on you and lick your face... and pee on your shoes, but that's a different story. Yeah, they're all adorable and whatever, but they're not really that great. everyone seems to have this huge love for cute and cuddly things, and I'm standing here wondering what in the name of goodness is so appealing about that.
Meet Samara: she's the omega dog. She crouches in the corner and hides from volunteers, looking scared and worried. She whimpers when you try to pet her and her eyes grow large and she runs away when you try to disentangle yourself from her leash and try to step over the other side. She's quiet and shy, and she doesn't like attention.
Meet E.T.: He's the "ugliest" dog in the entire shelter. He's got this scrunched up face that looks a little too small for the rest of his body, and he's all spotted black and white. He sneezes and coughs and growls and sniffs everything in sight. He's got wrinkles all over his face and scarce hair. He loves to run to all alone around the park and avoids the other dogs.
I've never been a great appreciator of cuteness and the "aaawwww" factor. I've always loved the different, the strange, the unique, the ones that no one else likes. I like the weird and unusual and the "ugly" that the world considers gross. I love the black cats, I play with the dogs that are missing limbs or eyes or ears, I cuddle the scruffy dogs and love to pet the big, massive Labradors and Rottweilers. I like to spend more time with Samara than I do with any of the other dogs. Her brother, Shadow, is always excited, jumping, and sniffing everywhere. I don't like him quite as much. He's lovely, sure, but I would trade him any day for Samara's shaking form and doey eyes.
Samara's the one that needs the love, even though they all need love, she's the one who needs to e cared for the most. The one who is usually ignored is the one I pay attention to. She's my favorite, she reminds me of someone I used to know, actually. She's humble and scared, she's always looked over by the others and is never properly taken care of. She's such a sweetheart, but she's so shy, she just cowers in the farthest end of the room.
I never took it upon myself to analyze why I always take a greater liking to the misfits, but after exploring the idea for some time today, I understand. I love them because they need the love. They need that one person to stand away from the crowd and give them the attention and care they need. Instead of ridiculing them and leaving them to stand on the sidelines, like aliens, the minute someone stands out and takes care of them, they are touched, surprised. I've always love the ugliest duckling, because to me, it's the most beautiful one. I love that duckling because I wish that someone would have loved me when I was in its same place: an ugly misfit.
