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How Could You?
When I was a puppy, I entertained you with my antics and made you laugh.
You called me your child, and despite a number of chewed shoes and a
couple of murdered throw pillows, I became your best friend. Whenever
I was "bad" you'd shake your finger at me and ask "How
could you?" -- but then you'd relent and roll me over for a bellyrub.
My housebreaking took a little longer than expected, because you were
terribly busy, but we worked on that together. I remember those nights
of nuzzling you in bed and listening to your confidences and secret
dreams, and I believed that life could not be any more perfect.
We went for long walks and runs in the park, car rides, stops for ice
cream (I only got the cone because "ice cream is bad for dogs"
you said), and I took long naps in the sun waiting for you to come home
at the end of the day.
Gradually, you began spending more time at work and on your career,
and more time searching for a human mate. I waited for you patiently,
comforted you through heartbreaks and disappointments, never chided
you about bad decisions, and romped with glee at your
homecomings, and when you fell in love.
She, now your wife, is not a "dog person" -- still I welcomed
her into our home, tried to show her affection, and obeyed her. I was
happy because you were happy. Then the human babies came along and I
shared your excitement. I was fascinated by their pinkness, how they
smelled, and I wanted to mother them, too. Only she and you worried
that I might hurt them, and I spent most of my time banished to another
room, or to a dog crate.
Oh, how I wanted to love them, but I became a "prisoner of love."
As they began to grow, I became their friend. They clung to my fur and
pulled themselves up on wobbly legs, poked fingers in my eyes, investigated
my ears, and gave me kisses on my nose. I loved everything about them
and their touch -- because your touch was now so infrequent -- and I
would've defended them with my life if need be. I would sneak into their
beds and listen to their worries and secret dreams, and together we
waited for the sound of your car in the driveway.
There had been a time, when others asked you if you had a dog, that
you produced a photo of me from your wallet and told them stories about
me. These past few years, you just answered "yes" and changed
the subject.
I had gone from being "your dog" to "just a dog,"
and you resented every expenditure on my behalf. Now, you have a new
career opportunity in another city, and you and they will be moving
to an apartment that does not allow pets. You've made the right decision
for your "family," but there was a time when I was your only
family.
I was excited about the car ride until we arrived at the animal
shelter. It smelled of dogs and cats, of fear, of hopelessness. You
filled out the paperwork and said "I know you will find a good
home for her." They shrugged and gave you a pained look. They understand
the realities facing a middle-aged dog, even one with "papers."
You had to pry your son's fingers loose from my collar as he screamed
"No, Daddy! Please don't let them take my dog!" And I worried
for him, and what lessons you had just taught him about friendship and
loyalty, about love and responsibility, and about respect for all life.
You gave me a good-bye pat on the head, avoided my eyes, and politely
refused to take my collar and leash with you. You had a deadline to
meet and now I have one, too. After you left, the two nice ladies said
you probably knew about your upcoming move months ago and made no attempt
to find me another good home. They shook their heads and asked "How
could you?"
They are as attentive to us here in the shelter as their busy schedules
allow. They feed us, of course, but I lost my appetite days ago. At
first, whenever anyone passed my pen, I rushed to the front, hoping
it was you...that you had changed your mind -- that this was all a bad
dream...or I hoped it would at least be someone who cared, anyone who
might save me.
When I realized I could not compete with the frolicking for attention
of happy puppies, oblivious to their own fate, I retreated to a far
corner and waited. I heard her footsteps as she came for me at the end
of the day, and I padded along the aisle after her to a separate room.
A blissfully quiet room. She placed me on the table and rubbed my ears,
and told me not to worry. My heart pounded in anticipation of what was
to come, but there was also a sense of relief.
The prisoner of love had run out of days.
As is my nature, I was more concerned about her. The burden which she
bears weighs heavily on her, and I know that, the same way I knew your
every mood. She gently placed a tourniquet around my foreleg as a tear
ran down her cheek. I licked her hand in the same way I used to comfort
you so many years ago. She expertly slid the hypodermic needle into
my vein. As I felt the sting and the cool liquid coursing through my
body, I lay down sleepily, looked into her kind eyes and murmured "How
could you?"
Perhaps because she understood my dogspeak, she said
"I'm so sorry."
She hugged me, and hurriedly explained it was her job to make sure I
went to a better place, where I wouldn't be ignored or abused or abandoned,
or have to fend for myself -- a place of love and light so very different
from this earthly place. And with my last bit of energy, I tried to
convey to her with a thump of my tail that
my "How could you?" was not directed at her.
It was directed at you, My Beloved Master, I was thinking of you. I
will think of you and wait for you forever. May everyone in your life
continue to show you so much loyalty.
by Jim Willis
A
Note from the Author: If "How Could You?" brought tears
to your eyes as you read it, as it did to mine as I wrote it,
it is because it is the composite story of the millions of formerly
"owned" pets who die each year in animal shelters. Please
use this to help educate, on your websites, in newsletters, on
animal shelter and vet office bulletin boards. Tell the public
that the decision to add a pet to the family is an important one
for life, that animals deserve our love and sensible care, that
finding another appropriate home for your animal is your responsibility
and any local humane society or animal welfare league can offer
you good advice, and that all life is precious. Please do your
part to stop the killing, and encourage all spay & neuter
campaigns in order to prevent unwanted animals.
Please pass this on to everyone, not to hurt them or make them
sad, but it could save maybe, even one, unwanted pet.
Remember...They love UNCONDITIONALLY.
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