How Could You?
By
When
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.