Page 5

"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 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 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 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 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 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

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