A man in Grand Rapids, Michigan took out a full page ad in the paper to
present the following essay to the people of our community. It really touched
my heart and I hope it will yours too.
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, age 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, comforte 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 Ihoped 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.
By Jim Willis 2001
Click HERE to join my Facebook Group - Dogs are not our whole life, but they make our life whole.
Click HERE to join my Facebook Group - Dogs are not our whole life, but they make our life whole.