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A man in Grand Rapids, Michigan incredibly took out a $7000 full page ad in
the
paper to present the following essay to the people of his community.
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 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. 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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