Played by the Banjo

I’ve adopted a dog – unless the owners show up, but with the way this dog’s fur was matted, she’s been neglected and so the previous owners don’t deserve her. Mom decided to call her Banjo.

When I first got Banjo to her temporary home, she acted like the classic traumatized animal. She’s a tiny terrier breed and so she’s easy enough to pick up and hold like a toddler. She demanded comforting while I was around.

After going inside the house and returning, she acted happy until she saw me. Then the scared demeanor returned and it was back to comforting and petting. I held her like a toddler while Chris was cutting grass until she wanted down. And, when we left with promises to return the next day, her whimpering made my heart break.

Yet, Chris’s grandfather reported that, when we were gone and when no one else is around, Banjo doesn’t make any noise. As Chris put it, she found her sucker.

I’ve been played by Banjo, darnit.

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