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.
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.
Anyone is
welcome to distribute
the essay for a
non-commercial 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
& neuter
campaigns in order to
prevent unwanted animals.
Jim Willis

isn't it sad the way
people treat their pets? pets most likely
have
feelings you know, unless
they are not animal, which is impossible.
anyway, yea,
so don't ever
ever treat your dog/cat/pet like
that!>:\\

Too often,
the thing you want most is the one
thing you can't
have.
Desire leaves us heartbroken, it wears
us
out.
Desire can wreck your life.But as tough as wanting
something
can
be.
The people who suffer the most,are
those
who don't know
what they
want.

what's the point. the skies are so dark, this life is so crap. i'm no poet, but i know that my life sucks to the core. no matter how hard i work, it's like there's no hope. i know i'm sucky too, i hate being emo. but can't help it. just let me do this for a while and i'll resume
my excited-almostalwayscheerful-happyeverafter-nosuchthingas sighing-fake smile,
okay? just leave me okay? none of you can help.
oh God,
save
me.

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