 |
|
 |
|
 |
|
HOW COULD YOU?
By Jim Willis, 2001 |
|
|
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. 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 and 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 dog speak, 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. |
|
|
|
|
|
A Note from the Author: If "How Could You?" brought
tears to your eyes as you read it, as it did to mine and I wrote
it, it is because it is the composite story of the millions of
formerly "owned" pets who die each year in American
& Canadian animal shelters.
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.
|
|
|
|
[Home] [Information]
[Shelters] [Search]
|
|
|
|