A man in Grand Rapids, Michigan
took out a $7000 full page ad in the paper to present the following essay to
the people of his community:
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.
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 & Canadian animal shelters. Anyone is welcome to
distribute the
essay for a noncommercial purpose, as long as it is properly attributed
with
the copyright notice.
Please use it 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 and neuter
campaigns
in order to prevent unwanted animals. Jim Willis
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