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.
When ever 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 anymore
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, andgave me
kisses on my nose.
I loved everything about them and 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,
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 understood the
realities
facing a middle-aged dog, even one with "papers."
You had to prise 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 seperate 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 that 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 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.
THE END.
The original:From ‚s‚t‚m‚`‚l‚`‚q‚`@‚j‚d‚m‚m‚d‚k‚r,