Five years ago I was pretty sure that all I would ever know was the plain concrete box I lived in. I was just a little pup, not even six months old, when they took me and my cousins away from the life we knew in the woods and put us in boxes. I started to forget who I was. I forgot about the woods I used to live in and that there was anything outside my box. Some of the other dogs forgot themselves before I did and believed that the box was all there was. Hector didn't forget and he would bark at the people that hosed us and our boxes and it would remind me that once I knew something other than the box.
Freedom sounds wonderful, but when all you know is a box, freedom is overwhelming. My mom, Lulu, and all my friends spent a lot of time explaining to me that there is nothing to be scared of and that they would keep me safe. They called me “environmentally sensitive” and one friend who helps humans called veterans said I was like her patients who have Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. With help I got brave at home, at pit ed class, in wild places and in a few other places, like Jonny's house. New places stayed scary.