How Could You?
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.
