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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.
The End
** A note
from the author, Jim Willis : 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.
** "How
Could You?" is included in a book of Jim's collected writings,
"Pieces of My Heart - Writings Inspired by My Life with Animals,"
published March 2002 in both the USA and UK. See the book's website:
http://www.crean.com/jimwillis/
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October 1, 2005 - more pix of Joe and Vivian's
cats
More
cat photos - Posted October 10, 2005)
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