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
belly rub.
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
Editor's Note: We would
like to thank Jim Willis - whoever you are - for this
WONDERFUL story.
