~Last Day Dog Rescue~

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 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 home comings, 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 you 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 upon 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 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 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 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

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 adoption.

~TEN COMMANDMENTS FOR PET OWNERS~

1. My life is likely to last 10 to 15 years. Any separation from you will be very painful.

2. Give me time to understand what you want from me.
Do not break my spirit with your temper, though I will always forgive you.
Your patience and understanding will teach me more quickly those things you want me to learn.

3. Treat me kindly, my beloved friend, for no heart in all the world
is more grateful for your kindness than mine.
Don't be angry with me for long, and don't lock me up as punishment.
After all, you have your job, your friends, your entertainment. I have only you.

4. Speak to me often. Even if I don't understand all your words,
I understand your voice when it's speaking to me.
Your voice is the sweetest sound I ever hear, as you must know by my enthusiastic
excitement when your footsteps fall upon my waiting ear.

5. Please take me inside when it's cold and wet.
I'm a domestic animal and no longer am accustomed to the bitter elements.
I ask for little more than your gentle hands petting me.

6. Keep my bowl filled with clean water; I cannot tell you when I'm thirsty.
Feed me good food so that I may stay well, to romp and play and do your bidding,
to be by your side, and stand ready, willing and able to share with you my life, for that is what I live for.
However you treat me, I'll never forget it.

7. Don't hit me. Remember, I have teeth that could easily crush the bones in your hand,
but I choose not to bite you.

8. Before you scold me for being lazy or uncooperative, ask yourself if something
might be bothering me. Perhaps I am not getting the right food,
I've been out in the sun too long, or my heart is getting old and weak.

9. Take care of me when I get old. You will grow old, too.

10. When I am very old, when I no longer enjoy good health,
please do not make heroic efforts to keep me going. I am not having fun.
Just see to it that my trusting life is taken gently.
And be with me on that difficult journey when it is time to say "goodbye".
Never say, "I can't bear to watch." Everything is easier for me when you are there.
I will leave this earth knowing with my last breath that my fate was always safest in your hands.

Remember - I love you.

~ Author Unknown

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~Last Day Dog Rescue~
Shelter Dogs With A Second Chance

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Last Day Dog Rescue
24901 Northwestern Hwy
Suite 302
Southfield, MI 48075
E-mail: ourlastdaydogs@gmail.com

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Applied 9/23/07

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