How Could you?
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How Could you?
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 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 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 dog speak, 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
Copyright Jim Willis 2001
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 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 dog speak, 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
Copyright Jim Willis 2001
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Rogansmommy
- Rank 2
- Posts: 796
- Joined: Thu May 12, 2005 4:26 pm
- Location: Apollo Beach, Florida
- Contact:
When we got our guys (all three of them -- cats count too!) we made a decision that no matter what, they were with us for life. About 2 1/2 years ago, my husband lost his job, we almost lost our house, and wound up relocated 1500 miles from where we were. The creatures came with and NEVER was it EVER thought of to get rid of them.
I don't understand how people can do that. It's like giving up a child.
I don't understand how people can do that. It's like giving up a child.
Michele
^Rogan^ at the Bridge on 5/16/09 -- always in my heart
^Rogan^ at the Bridge on 5/16/09 -- always in my heart
When I read this my eye water. I had to stop cause a 17 year old boy what look 44 lol!, would be to childish. I just thought that Ishould show it to you all. This is something that I vowed to myself like that would never happen to me.
The part that got to me was when the son was grabbing the dog sayin say don't let them take my dog. I have to stop cause my eye waterin again.
Shane
The part that got to me was when the son was grabbing the dog sayin say don't let them take my dog. I have to stop cause my eye waterin again.
Shane
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Judy Fox
- Rank 4
- Posts: 6320
- Joined: Wed Mar 02, 2005 9:49 am
- Location: Cheshire, On The Island.(But always wishing she was back home in Wales)
The thing is Shane, being aware that these things happen that is why I do so admire the people who go to the shelters and give the dogs forever homes.
I also admire my neighbour Andrea so much. She has a dog, Lab mix called Shade and he is a lovely dog, so faithful and good natured and such a good companion for her. He is 9 yrs. old now and is a perfect dog - except for one thing - He is terrified of fireworks, absolutely terrified of fireworks and even bangs like a car backfiring.
Andrea and Shade live next door to us and Andrea works , since her daughter left home about five years ago.
Since then Shade has wrecked her home several times. When a firework bangs he turns into an uncontrollable bag of jelly and it is pitiful to see.
He can rip up a three piece suite in minutes and has done - several. He can make short work of a bed. You cannot believe it.
But never once has Andrea even considered getting rid of him.
She has sobbed her heart out and one day about two years ago, I said the only thing I could think of was for her to give me a key and the minute Fred or I hear a bang or a firework, we drop what we are doing and one of us will go in and stay with him.
Andrea works four evenings a week in the local supermarket and we have fireworks being let off spasmodically from the end of August until the New Year is in so now, we are on standby when we know Andrea is out.
But, as I said never, ever once has she even considered getting rid of him. He knows Fred and me now and when the fireworks start he is waiting in the hall for us to go in.
Milly and Mabel now, don't care a jot - they just stand in the garden and look at them as if to say "Oh! there is a firework!"
So there are people who will not discard their pet, no matter what and Andrea is one and I salute her.
I also admire my neighbour Andrea so much. She has a dog, Lab mix called Shade and he is a lovely dog, so faithful and good natured and such a good companion for her. He is 9 yrs. old now and is a perfect dog - except for one thing - He is terrified of fireworks, absolutely terrified of fireworks and even bangs like a car backfiring.
Andrea and Shade live next door to us and Andrea works , since her daughter left home about five years ago.
Since then Shade has wrecked her home several times. When a firework bangs he turns into an uncontrollable bag of jelly and it is pitiful to see.
He can rip up a three piece suite in minutes and has done - several. He can make short work of a bed. You cannot believe it.
But never once has Andrea even considered getting rid of him.
She has sobbed her heart out and one day about two years ago, I said the only thing I could think of was for her to give me a key and the minute Fred or I hear a bang or a firework, we drop what we are doing and one of us will go in and stay with him.
Andrea works four evenings a week in the local supermarket and we have fireworks being let off spasmodically from the end of August until the New Year is in so now, we are on standby when we know Andrea is out.
But, as I said never, ever once has she even considered getting rid of him. He knows Fred and me now and when the fireworks start he is waiting in the hall for us to go in.
Milly and Mabel now, don't care a jot - they just stand in the garden and look at them as if to say "Oh! there is a firework!"
So there are people who will not discard their pet, no matter what and Andrea is one and I salute her.
(Thank you Sweetpea for my new banner.)
I completely understand. It might have been due to a "scene" in the dog's pass that is why he acts the way it is. Thats is not the point right now though? You should act upon the present and look forward for the future. If the dog is speacial to her (which all are), why should she do that then.
Krillan and Shadow puts a smile on my face for every day that I could remember, even from the day I got them. Why should I get rid of that. They are only giving me reason to the best life I can give them.
Shane
Krillan and Shadow puts a smile on my face for every day that I could remember, even from the day I got them. Why should I get rid of that. They are only giving me reason to the best life I can give them.
Shane
I wept when I read "How could you?". People somehow view the feelings and needs of animals as less significant than those of humans.
To comfort myself, I went and rubbed the head of my own middleaged dog who waited 4 months in a shelter, but when she was brought into a room, it was to meet me rather than be euthanized. I saw her picture on "petfinders" and drove for 5 hours to meet her and another 5 hours to bring her back to her new home.
For weeks, she wouldn't let me out of her sight. If I went into another room and she couldn't see me, she barked. Now after 2 months, she is happy to follow the (agrieved) cats, eat and sleep without seeing me at all times.
I hope that she has forgotten her heartbreak and wish that all the animals in shelters would have someone bring them home, but that cannot happen while breeding is taking place. As long as we continue to pay money for puppies, more animals will be bred and the number of animals needing homes will continue to vastly exceed the number of available homes. Remember the adult dogs awaiting adoption when you seek your next companion.
To comfort myself, I went and rubbed the head of my own middleaged dog who waited 4 months in a shelter, but when she was brought into a room, it was to meet me rather than be euthanized. I saw her picture on "petfinders" and drove for 5 hours to meet her and another 5 hours to bring her back to her new home.
For weeks, she wouldn't let me out of her sight. If I went into another room and she couldn't see me, she barked. Now after 2 months, she is happy to follow the (agrieved) cats, eat and sleep without seeing me at all times.
I hope that she has forgotten her heartbreak and wish that all the animals in shelters would have someone bring them home, but that cannot happen while breeding is taking place. As long as we continue to pay money for puppies, more animals will be bred and the number of animals needing homes will continue to vastly exceed the number of available homes. Remember the adult dogs awaiting adoption when you seek your next companion.
that is a beautiful story loverman. The dog is so lucky to have you and you him. What was it about the photo on petfinders that appealed to you so much that you drove 5 hours?
My next chow will be a rescue but when my children are a little older so I can give the dog the attention I think it will need.
My next chow will be a rescue but when my children are a little older so I can give the dog the attention I think it will need.
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diana chin
- Rank 0
- Posts: 3
- Joined: Tue May 03, 2005 4:14 pm
- Location: westside Los Angeles, California
Another touching poem by Jim Willis
"The Animals' Savior"
I looked at all the caged animals in the shelter...
the cast-offs of human society.
I saw in their eyes love and hope, fear
and dread sadness and betrayal.
And I was angry.
"God," I said, "this is terrible!
Why don't you do something?"
God was silent for a moment
and then He spoke softly.
"I have done something," He replied.
"I created You."
Copyright Jim Willis 1999
I looked at all the caged animals in the shelter...
the cast-offs of human society.
I saw in their eyes love and hope, fear
and dread sadness and betrayal.
And I was angry.
"God," I said, "this is terrible!
Why don't you do something?"
God was silent for a moment
and then He spoke softly.
"I have done something," He replied.
"I created You."
Copyright Jim Willis 1999
The "Animal's Savior" is a very touching poem. It certainly speaks to the despair that we feel at the numbers of homeless dogs.
To answer Debbie's question...I had been looking at adult Chows on Petfinder hoping to adopt. It was challenging finding a Chow who could interact well with cats. The shelter faxed me the Chow's behavioral analysis and tried hard to answer my questions. I wasn't entirely without concern, but the shelter (a Humane Society Shelter) said that my "Summer's" time was coming to a close and I felt compelled to rescue her. I think that it was the amount of information I had reviewed that made me unable to just let her be euthanized. The day after they sent me that email, I set off to find her. As soon as they put the leash on Summer, she went into 4 wheel drive and headed up the long drive from the shelter to the road dragging all 160lbs of me behind her. The shelter workers said she didn't normally go that way. I don't know if she could read my mind and wanted to go home. It was hard (physically) to get her back inside for me to do the paperwork. They seemed a little surprised at how fast I made up my mind, but I knew I wanted her and saw no point in postponing the 5 hour drive back home seeing how I had to go to work the next day. Of course, there really wasn't any benefit from having hurried back as I couldn't sleep because I was checking on my new baby all night.
To answer Debbie's question...I had been looking at adult Chows on Petfinder hoping to adopt. It was challenging finding a Chow who could interact well with cats. The shelter faxed me the Chow's behavioral analysis and tried hard to answer my questions. I wasn't entirely without concern, but the shelter (a Humane Society Shelter) said that my "Summer's" time was coming to a close and I felt compelled to rescue her. I think that it was the amount of information I had reviewed that made me unable to just let her be euthanized. The day after they sent me that email, I set off to find her. As soon as they put the leash on Summer, she went into 4 wheel drive and headed up the long drive from the shelter to the road dragging all 160lbs of me behind her. The shelter workers said she didn't normally go that way. I don't know if she could read my mind and wanted to go home. It was hard (physically) to get her back inside for me to do the paperwork. They seemed a little surprised at how fast I made up my mind, but I knew I wanted her and saw no point in postponing the 5 hour drive back home seeing how I had to go to work the next day. Of course, there really wasn't any benefit from having hurried back as I couldn't sleep because I was checking on my new baby all night.