"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 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
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 the millions of formerly owned
pets who die each year in America's shelters.
Anyone is welcome to distribute the essay for a non-commercial
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. I appreciate
receiving copies of newsletters which reprint "How
Could You?" or "The Animals' Savior," sent
to me at the last postal address below.
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.
If you are a member of an animal welfare organization, I
encourage you to participate in the Spay/Neuter Billboard
Campaign from ISAR (International Society for Animal Rights);
for more information,
please visit: http://www.i-s-a-r.com
Thank you,
Jim Willis
Director, The Tiergarten Sanctuary Trust, accredited member
of The
American Sanctuary Association, and Program Coordinator,
International Society for Animal Rights
Also by Jim Willis:
The Animal's Savior
Copyright Jim Willis 1999
I looked at all the caged animals in the shelter...the
cast-offs of human society. I saw in their eyes love and
hope, fear and dread, sadness an betrayal.
And I was angry.
"God," I said, "this is terrible! Why don't
you do something?"
God was silent for a moment, and then He spoke softly.
"I have done something," He replied.
"I created You."
Contributions to the Tiergarten VETERINARY CARE FUND are
most
appreciated, and must be made payable to McDonald Animal
Clinic and
sent to:
Tiergarten Care Fund
c/o McDonald Animal Clinic
126 S. McDonald St
McDonald, PA 15057
Contributions to our general & property acquisition
funds should be
made payable to Jim Willis and sent to:
Jim Willis, Director
The Tiergarten Sanctuary Trust
8 Carter Lane
Avella, PA 15312-2242 USA
**Please note: We hope to
establish The Tiergarten Sanctuary somewhere in northeast
North America, in 2001. We are currently looking for donated
or low-cost property (such as a restorable farm) suitable
for horses, rescued wolves & wolf-hybrids, farm and
companion animals, somewhere between southwest PA and Nova
Scotia, Canada. We welcome suggestions.
Your contributions will be an important part of helping
to make The
Tiergarten Sanctuary a reality, as well as supporting the
over 40
animals already in our care, the animals we rescue and place
in good
homes, and our education and advocacy efforts.
