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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 belly rub.
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 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. 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.
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