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 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. 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.
/ Unknow
