HOW COULD YOU?

By 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'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
placing 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 directed at you, My Beloved Master, I was thinking of you.
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 animal 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. 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

Webmaster's note: We regret there was no copywrite notice accompanying this story that arrived in our email. We think Jim Willis would have wanted us to pass this along anyway and have therefore posted it.

If you are interested in getting his new book, “Pieces of My Heart, writings inspired by animals and nature,” it is available from Southeast Pug Rescue & Adoption, Inc. (SEPRA) and can be purchased on their website: www.rescuepug.com/pieces_book.html or ordered by mail:

SEPRA
3245 Peachtree Pkwy., Suite D-109
Suwanee, GA 30024
($25 total inc. s/h). All proceeds go to SEPRA.