I dare you not to
cry.
"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 housetraining 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, 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, especially their touch - because your
touch was now so infrequent - and I would have defended them with
my life if need be.
I would sneak into their beds and listen to their worries and
secret dreams. 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 or cat, 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
goodbye 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, 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.
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 meant for
her. It was you, My Beloved Master, I was thinking of. I will
think of you and wait for
you forever.
May everyone in your life continue to show you so much
loyalty."
<3
Fave If You Would Never Leave Your Puppy.
then i gave my dog a huge hug&told him that was never gonna happen to him<3.