Posted on 12/04/2004 1:11:19 PM PST by treeclimber
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, especially 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.
The Dread Boston Salty is on the hearth, showing his belly to the fire right now. I'm so teary I can hardly see him. He's only six and doing fabulously, and the cats (who are all 11) are in great shape . . . and I have nightmares about once a week about losing one of them.
Whay can't dogs live to be our age? Mankind's Best Friend.
My last one got killed in the road on the 4th of JULY. My brother was watching him while I was doing my Navy duties. My brother was crushed about it. I know it is something that happens. Any other day he would have made it across the 4 lanes no problem in that sleepy old town.
Rest In Peace Booka T
"I often wonder what human kind did to deserve such a wonderful companion."
I agree its is a blessing. No other animal is so devoted to humans than dogs; even more so to us than to their own.
There are countless stories of dogs giving their life to save a human-from alerting them to a burning house, to protecting them from an attacker.
I love dogs.
A real heartbreaker! Brought tears to my eyes and I don't even own a dog. Beautifully written.
<><
Damn. (I think that's my first expletive on FR.)
Not me! My little cocker is my baby!
Until I was afflicted with an Aortic dissection two weeks after getting married and while I was in surgery to regain my life, the love of my life was busy taking my Malamute and best friend of twelve years to the animal hospital to have him put to sleep.
After coming home as a 5% survivor of my affliction, I had to ask where Sitka was.....Two weeks later I filed for separation.
You've GOT to be kidding???!!!
You've GOT to be kidding???!!!
But I know you're not....
Damn!!!
Don't be too hard on yourself. I'm a dog lover and it sounds like you did the humane thing. There is something to be said for quality of life and he didn't have much left.
Glad you got rid of the real b*tch!
And how is Salty these days? Ol' one-eyed Elmo will turn eleven next month. I believe we discussed Bostons once.
I took him for a long walk last Sunday, a couple of miles. It's the first time we both got tired out together. He used to have plenty left when I was done-in. He spends a lot more time sleeping these days unless the grandkids are over, then he really comes to life.
His breath has gotten a bit rough, not like when he was a puppy, but not so bad I can't hug him, hard little runt that he is. He hates that - not "manly" I suppose. He's my bud, no matter what.
And I'm sorry I met her and followed her self promotion and inconsiderate inhuman attitude as long as I did.
I just hope that her next "victim" doesn't own a dog.
I am in full recovery however with "Silver" my Siberian Husky and less the loss of furniture from his teething from his younger years, we are bonding well. : )
Bump.
No, it was a stumbled step taken in life and a step toward understanding true friendship and how precious it is.
Salty is phenomenal - his sweater is in the dryer right now, and he's waiting by the fire for it to be ready. He likes to get in it when it's warm from being dried. Give Elmo a big girlie squeeze for me!
*sighs*
*sniffles* I shouldn't have read that!
I did a weim rescue event this afternoon -- I have two adopted weims -- http://www.weimrescuetexas.org
:)
How could someone leave one their fur kids at one of those places?
Disclaimer: Opinions posted on Free Republic are those of the individual posters and do not necessarily represent the opinion of Free Republic or its management. All materials posted herein are protected by copyright law and the exemption for fair use of copyrighted works.