A man in Grand Rapids, Michigan, took out a $7000 full page ad in the
paper to present the following essay to the people of his community:
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 bellyrub.
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 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 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.
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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
and Canadian animal shelters.
Anyone is welcome to distribute the essay for a noncommercial
purpose, as long as it is properly attributed with the copyright
notice.
Please use it 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
and neuter campaigns in order to prevent unwanted animals.
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