Try Reading This
Without Crying
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 realised 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
This story written by '' Joyce '' is so
true to life for many many dogs, if you can help by giving a rescue dog a
loving, secure home for life please do, it could mean everything and you
may make the difference between life and death to a super dog who has done
nothing but love it's family.