How Could You
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 housetraining 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, 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. 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 or cat, 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, 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. 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 meant for 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
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 housetraining 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, 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. 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 or cat, 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, 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. 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 meant for 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