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 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 then 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 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 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 dog speak, 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.

Please use this to help educate, on your websites, in newsletters, on animal shelter and vet office bulletin boards. Tell your friends, relatives and neighbors 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.

Please pass this on to everyone, not to hurt them or make them sad, but it could save maybe, even one, unwanted pet. Remember...They love UNCONDITIONALLY.

I CLEANED UP YOUR MESS TODAY

You decided that you wanted to move to an apartment that didn't allow pets. I don't know what lured you. Maybe it was a boyfriend or a girlfriend. Maybe it was a great view. Maybe you liked the woodwork. At any rate, it was more important to you than she was.

So you took her down to the shelter, still wearing her cute little pink leopard collar with a bow, and you cheerfully wrote on the card that she was very healthy for her age and friendly and just likes to sleep in the sun! I guess you knew her pretty well - you put her birthday down on the card, too, making me believe you've probably had her for her entire life.

Then you left, secure in your rationalization that somehow, in the midst of puppy season, your twelve year old dog would find a home. The shelter took a picture of her scared face and big eyes and put it on the web.

For two weeks, I looked at that picture. I hoped someone else would see her fear and feel compelled to help her, but the public wasn't seeing her. She was back in isolation, getting vitamin B shots and subcutaneous fluids. The tech wrote "depressed" on her card. I'm not surprised. I'd be depressed too if I went from "sleeping in the sun" to a metal cage with a thin layer of newspaper.

Finally today, I couldn't stand it anymore. I felt too guilty thinking about her sitting in that cage at her age. So I went down and I got her, and now she's curled up on a fleece baby blanket in a crate in my kitchen. When I open the crate to visit her, she rubs her head on my hand.

Today, I cleaned up your mess. I felt worse for your dog than you did. And all over the city, other rescuers did the same. They rescued your abandoned cats and dogs and bunnies and exotics. And we all wondered the same thing as we did it: How could you create this situation? How is it that you feel no remorse? How is it that you were you able to walk away from an animal you shared your home with for a year, ten years, fifteen years, knowing that they might die because of your actions?

I'll never meet you to ask you those questions. I just hope I meet the person who will be good enough to give your baby that sunny spot to sleep for the rest of her life (however long that is). She deserves it, and it's a crying shame you didn't have the decency to give it to her.

  "I RESCUED YOUR DOG TODAY"

The one you left at the pound.
The one you had for seven years,
and no longer wanted around

I RESCUED YOUR DOG TODAY
Do you know he's lost weight?
Do you know he's scared and depressed,
and has lost all his faith?

I RESCUED YOUR DOG TODAY
He had fleas and a cold,
but don't worry none,
You've unburdened your load.

I RESCUED YOUR DOG TODAY....
Were you having a baby or moving away?
Did you suddenly develop allergies
Or was there no reason he couldn't stay?

I RESCUED YOUR DOG TODAY
He doesn't play or eat much.
He's very depressed, but he will learn again to trust.

I RESCUED YOUR DOG TODAY....
And here he will stay.
He's found his forever home,
and a warm bed on which to lay.

I RESCUED YOUR DOG TODAY....
And I will give him all that he could need.
Patience, love, security, and understanding,
hopefully he will forget your selfish deed.

I RESCUED YOUR DOG TODAY