{Begin quote}
When I was a puppy, I entertained you with myantics 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 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.
{End Quote}
Posts
This is a very moving story. I'm definitely going to get his book.
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