Committed to the improvement of the breed by breeding for health, temperament and better structure in dogs that have the ability to herd.

Friday, April 16, 2010

How could you??!! (have kleenex in hand)

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 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 the public 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.

Now that the tears are rolling down your face, pass it on! Send to everyone

in your address book and around the world! This IS the reality of dogs

given up to shelters!

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