How Could
You? by Jim Willis
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
belly
rub.
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, 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, and
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 if you had a dog, that you produced a
photo of me from your wallet and told 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
life.
You gave me a
good-bye pat on the head, and 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 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 may 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.
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 American and Canadian animal shelters.
Please do your
part to stop the killing, and encourage all spay and neuter
campaigns in order to prevent unwanted animals.
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