Joyful Bark. Happy Ending.

     I met Hank when volunteering to feed dogs being starved by their owners in New York City. Hank was a Husky living behind a dilapidated building surrounded by a high fence. His fur caked with green mold. His ears eaten down by frostbite and maggots.
     Most of the dogs we fed were cowed down by life, either crawling on their bellies toward us or growling and pulling at their chains to bite off our hands. Not Hank. When we showed up, Hank bounded over like a pup, greeting us with a joyful bark.
     Feeding Hank meant throwing his food over the high, barricaded fence. One morning I threw over a really big portion of wet food and then peeped through a small slit in the fence to get a glimpse of Hank. Looking back at me were Hank's blue, blue eyes. He let out a happy bark, despite the fact the wet food I'd tossed over had landed smack in the middle of his head, with odd bits clinging to his chewed-down ears. Hank, ever the optimist, just shook his head and lapped up the food.
     Then, Hank's fortune changed. He got rescued, and the next time I saw Hank he had a new family, including a little girl who loved wrapping her arms around Hank's bushy neck and kissing his mangled ears.
     It's easy, in the tough times, to get down and count yourself out. To turn into a nasty snapper or lifeless spirit killing time 'til time kills you. Hank wasn't having it. He had a new home and all the food, water, and love his unflagging optimism could bring, and he wasted no time letting his past darken his new future. Hank just kept letting out a big bark for his happy ending. (300 words)