HOW COULD YOU

HOW COULD YOU?

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 naughty 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 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.

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 (and U.K.) animal shelters. Anyone is welcome to distribute the essay for a non-commercial purpose, as long as it is properly attributed with the

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. -Jim Willis

Added By Alan Fairhurst

In our Christian society, we comfort our selves with the thought that the animals will go to a better place.

My personal thought is - we don’t know. It may well be that there is nothing after death and if that is so, a life has been ended for nothing.