How could you?

[collie/grey 238]

How Could You?"

 

Copyright Jim Willis 2001

 

 

 

 

 

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 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 have 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.

 

The End

 

 

 

 

 

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 then millions of formerly owned pets who die each year in America's

 

shelters. Anyone is welcome to distribute the essay for a noncommercial

 

purpose, as long as it is properly attributed with the copyright notice.

 

Please use it to help educate, on your websites, in newsletters, on animal

 

shelter and vet office bulletin boards.

[Guest Ditch_Shitter]

No F***ing Way am I reading that, mate! I'll end up in floods ~ again But I know it. I found and read it before. Then I lost the copy I took of it in a crash. I'll copy that now and shall store it again ~ for showing others.

 

Thanks for bringing it to us

[Ricky-N.p.p 0]

[collie/grey 238]

No F***ing Way am I reading that, mate! I'll end up in floods ~ again But I know it. I found and read it before. Then I lost the copy I took of it in a crash. I'll copy that now and shall store it again ~ for showing others.

 

Thanks for bringing it to us

 

Your welcome fella. Still feel sad myself.

[hawkanddog 0]

If that doesnt bring a lump to your throat, I dont know what will

[Guest Keeps]

 

"He is your friend, your partner, your defender, your dog. You are his life, his love, his leader. He will be yours, faithful and true, to the last beat of his heart. You owe it to him to be worthy of such devotion."

 

-- Author Unknown

[Kay 3,709]

i found that very moving it must have been very difficult to write

[mistwalker 0]

Christ! I couldn't stop crying like a kid!

[Guest baldie]

I,m shortly gonna be in this situation with my old terrier i think, she,s lumpy, and the anasthetic may kill her for an op, i dont know what to do?Millet, didnt you have the same problem last year? thoughts folks?

[fellman 116]

I,m shortly gonna be in this situation with my old terrier i think, she,s lumpy, and the anasthetic may kill her for an op, i dont know what to do?Millet, didnt you have the same problem last year? thoughts folks?

baldie i am sure you dont need us to tell you what to do.........

do what is right for the bitch ...........i know its hard but you have to do the right thing mate

sorry

yis fellman

[Guest Ditch_Shitter]

My old terrier ..... she's lumpy ...

 

God. I'm So f***ing sorry, Balds. I've stood in a crowded pub and hugged a fellow grown man before now. Him faced with your desicion. Both of us just crying our hearts out.

 

I have only one bit of advice, mate. From personal experiance. Here's what I'd suggest: Run her up to the vet's and ask them to give her a knock out sedative jab. She won't even know about it. Then, 'Take her home'. Walk her back to the car, mate. Put her in. Within minutes you can take her back inside and wish her goodbye. The other jab.

 

Sorry, man. I'm in f***ing tears here.

[tutnteffi45 0]

read it cried copied it daughter read it took it to church meeting for teenagers she attends read it out 60 teenagers between 9 to 16 6 leaders and a pastor in tears put it on church notice board added a bit at bottom to say this applies to old / poor people who are left too thanks

[Guest baldie]

Yep, gonna take her to the vets this week, and get their opinion on it.It looks very much like the lumpy teats all bitches seem to get in older age, the slow growing fatty cysts.I,ve always been reluctant to have them removed, as it always seems to spread them.The dogs not in any pain or discomfort with it, otherwise she would have been before now, its the risk of anasthetic with what could be a needless op that bothers me, the dogs 12.

[Guest Keeps]

Baldie, my old russell was like that till she was 17, the vet said the lumps were benign and she didnt appear to be in any pain with them, she eventually had to be pts with pyometra - when they tried to force us to have her operated on only 3 weeks after she had a general anaesthetic to have some of her teeth removed due to an abscess, but we'd already decided she'd been through enough. Its the hardest thing in the world to do when the time comes, but sometimes you just have to do it

 

Your vet will be the best person to advise, but if her quality of life is still fairly good you might have a bit more time.

 

Smudge, in her favourite place the washing basket After a lot of time has passed you begin just remember the good times.

 

Edited August 12, 2006 by Keeps

[TOMO 26,005]

feck me thats a sad story sorry to here about your dog baldie. we were faced with the same problem a month ago had to put down my old bitch who was 14 . im sure you will do whats wright, and as keeps said she may have alot longer left. all the best TOMO