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
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
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
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.
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