How Could
You?
Copyright © Jim Willis 2001,
all rights reserved
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, especially 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.
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