Savvy Tips
Hypoglycemia in Dogs | How
to Housebreak Your Puppy (PDF) | Letter
to Owner
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 when you fell in love. She, now your
wife, is not a "dog person" still 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
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 fen
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.
Please Remember This
Is A Life Long Commitment !
We Never Want ANY of Our PUPS to Go to A
SHELTER!!!
We will ALWAYS Take Them back at ANY AGE!
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