FW: How Could You?This is a really touching story, from the point of view of a dog.

A man in Grand Rapids, Michigan incredibly took out a US $7,000 full page ad n the paper to present the HOW COULD YOU?
By Jim Willis, 2001

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 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 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 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 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.

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 & 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 all spay & neuter campaigns in order to prevent unwanted animals.



Please pass this on to everyone, not to hurt them or make them sad, but it could save maybe, even one unwanted pet. Remember... They love UNCONDITIONALLY, If you give them LOVE

It's very, very rare that I read such long posts... but I read every word of that one... thanks for sharing!

J

Is it weird that this made me laugh?

That has been around a long time. The dispose a dog isn't near the problem over breeding is.

Thank you for sharing this friend4u178.

Yes, labman, I have also seen this before. As someone who has had the misfortune to be placed in the position of helping with euthanasias, disposing of a dog is a very traumatic experience. It is a terrible, terrible job and throws me into a great depression whenever I have to do it. It absolutely goes hand in hand with the problem of over breeding.

Cappy, when you meet the owners who do this, and the ones who care even less than this "created" family here, you will understand how unhumourous this piece is. I have had people who just don't even make the excuse of moving. They just don't want to be bothered with an older dog who still has a lot of good years left in them. As soon as the dog starts requiring medical treatment, they get dumped at the shelters. I have had to tell people that the dog probably will not get adopted out and be put down, and these people just don't care. I will never understand how someone can make an animal a part of their lives & family and then turn their backs when it becomes too much of an expense or too inconvenient for them.

Rarely do I read such long posts, but this one held me captive. It brought tears to my eyes as my three dogs lay lovingly at my feet while reading.

Amen to you Ruby. This was the complete opposite of humorous, and it's disturbing that someone find it so. I too have had the unfortunate opportunity of being a part of behind the scenes work at kill pounds. Thankfully, I never had to take part in the 'final goodbye'. As heartbreaking as it is to see the hurt in all those cats and dogs eyes, I felt like the least I could do was to just be there with them and shower them with love and hopefully talk someone into an animal that they normally wouldn't think twice about. Like maybe an older slower dog that lacks stunning looks. Or a cat that has eye goop that folks ignore even though it's usually a quick cheap fix. Certain states still use the gas chamber box on cats and small toy breeds of dogs even though it's more expensive than the shot and inhumane. Because it's easier to stick them in a box and walk away than it is to watch an animal slip away. Most kill pounds have such horrid living situations for the animals and the volunteers are criminals doing court ordered community service that mistreat the animals for kicks. I know all too well how uncaring and ignorant people can be because I've witnessed it first hand day in and day out for a very long time. The same ignorant people who dump their pets at the pound are probably the same people who find this piece funny. Well this isn't a comical fictional story, it's reality.

I am with you here Ruby. I haven't gotten a clue as to what is up with Capuchin lately.

Capuchin, I am actually appalled at your answer here. I can't believe you find this humorous.

This has my faucet going... I wish I could take them all home.

Very touching. :'(