Describe the first day in your, or a character's, life.

First moment of freedom
It's a collar. And not just any collar. A bright pink one, unlike the regular black ones they have for us to wear whenever they take us out for walks. The person carrying the collar walks past the first kennels, heading in my direction. Can it really be? Is it finally my day? My day to leave this place and never return?
I circle the back of my kennel, a new energy pulsing in my veins. I haven't felt this type of excitement since the last colored collar was carried into the room. It was placed around a tiny Pomeranian's neck, who had only been at the facility a couple days. The rest of us felt betrayed, almost like we'd done everything we could to be good and presentable, but still, we were over looked.
Well, most of us are on good behavior. There's the one in the back who could care less if he ever left. He actually likes it here, on the cold concrete floor that digs into our elbow joints. He likes the bland, cheap food. The chain-link fences. The separation from humans. And other animals. We're all too afraid to ask for his story, but if the scars on his face tell anything, it's that he's had a rougher life than we've known.
The scape of metal on metal brings me to a halt. I lift my head to identify where the sound is coming from.
My kennel's door latch is being lifted. Freedom begins to flow through the open gate. I can almost feel it, taste it. My mouth salivates as I trot forward and rest my head in the waiting lady's hands.
She gives me a few long pets from my head to my shoulders before she kisses my nose. "We're going to miss you, Sugar. Hope your new owner loves you as much as we do."
I don't know what she's talking about, but I respond to her soft words, placing my nose in her lap.
The collar encircles my neck. The weight, comforting. It grounds me, pulling me down from the cloud of happiness I'm floating in.
It's my turn. My turn to be free. As happy as I am for this moment, a strange sadness tugs at me, beckoning me to stay.
I glance around the other kennels. There's so many of us, all waiting for the same thing, to have a family take us home, give us love and a new life of belonging. But once we pass through the swinging doors, there's no turning back. No room for failure. We never return to see our kennel friends again. Our time together is over.
The woman attaches a leash to the collar and gives it a tug. I follow, just like I've been taught. She gives me a few more pats as we head toward the doors, like she's relishing our last moments together as much as I am.
I wish I had more time to say goodbye. To give one last lick to my friends. But before I know it, the swinging doors have closed behind me and I'm greeted by the blinding light of the sun.
A man squats in front of me. He has hair as black as my coat. He opens his arms as if to greet me. I look up at the lady who holds my leash. She offers words that sound encouraging. Glancing back at the man, I see a tender face, a smile that knows happiness. I cling to that as I step into his arms. He rubs my neck, enthusiasm seeping from his fingertips. His voice is tender as he whispers my name into my ear.
This is my new home.