She’d been through this before, in her younger years. She was fit enough, pretty enough where it didn’t matter; she was saved. The cage was something she didn’t comprehend, didn’t live behind long enough to worry about.
Then her owners had grown old, things had happened she couldn’t help, and one day one of them was gone. The other followed soon after, and she was left behind, forgotten or simply left behind. Either way her life began again, alone this time.
It was years later they came for her. She was too much of an oldling by then. She’d heard the stories from the others about what to expect, and there wasn’t strength left in her to resist.
Now, back in the cold steel of the cage, she found it was no longer her she worried about, but rather the lostlings. Their plaintive howling sounded into the empty night, fear and uncertainty in all their voices, gnawing at her soul.
She couldn’t help but think of her childer, and hope they were not among the mournful choir. But she knew it did not matter. For now they were all but dogs to the men that walked them to their end.
Right now there is a crisis in Memphis. It revolves around the quality and morality of the city’s animal pound. Any animal that isn’t deemed cute or adoptable enough is thrust out of sight to be killed as soon as possible. Numerous legal issues and firings have also cast a looming shadow of doubt over the efficacy of the city’s management of the facility.