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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 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 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. 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.
May everyone in your life continue to show you so much loyalty.
The End
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"The
Animals' Savior"
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."
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