"How Could You?" Really sad...

[SunShine]

Really sad:

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."

(continued)

[SunShine]

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?"

(continued)

[SunShine]

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

A note from the author:
If "How Could You?" brought tears to your eyes as you read it, as it did to
mine as I wrote it, it is because it is the composite story of the millions
of formerly owned pets who die each year in America's shelters. Anyone is
welcome to distribute the essay for a non-commercial purpose, as long as it
is properly attributed with the copyright notice. Please use it to help
educate, on your websites, in newsletters, on animal shelter and vet office
bulletin boards. I appreciate receiving copies of newsletters which reprint
"How Could You?" or "The Animals' Savior," sent to me at the last postal
address below. Tell the public that the decision to add a pet to the family
is an important one for life, that animals deserve our love and sensible
care, that finding another appropriate home for your animal is your
responsibility and any local humane society or animal welfare league can
offer you good advice, and that all life is precious. Please do your part to
stop the killing, and encourage all spay & neuter campaigns in order to
prevent unwanted animals.

Thank you, Jim Willis Director, The Tiergarten Sanctuary Trust, accredited
member of The American Sanctuary Association, and Program Coordinator,
International Society for Animal Rights. email: [e-mail]


John Gordon
The Elizabeth Geddis Collection
Mailing Address: PO Box 495416
Garland, Texas 75049-5416
Shipping Address: 4914 Freeport Drive
Garland, Texas 75043-4133
Phone: [phone]
Fax: [phone]
Email: [e-mail]
Visit The Elizabeth Geddis Collection on line at: shopkooldfw.com/geddis

[RebDoMINe]

God, that is so sad. I'm sitting here crying like a baby from reading that. The dog in the story reminds me so much of how my dog of 14 years was...a sweet, loyal dog who was always there and loved to be with us, even when she was dying.

I've kind of forced myself to put it out of my head as much as possible, but this story makes me wonder how anyone could do that to a good dog like mine was. I've been wanting to adopt a dog from a shelter, and as silly as this might seem, when my dog was dying, I promised her we'd get another one in honor of her, but never to take her place. My dad keeps saying no, but maybe I'll print this out and show him. I know he's got sympathy somewhere in there

As dumb as it sounds, I want to keep my promise to Brandy. I know to everyone else it seems like just another pet, but I'd had her since I was two. I can't remember NOT having her. It's really hard having something you're so used to and comfortable with just drop away after all that time

Thanks for posting, I need a Kleenex--my t-shirt isn't making an effective one...in fact, it's gross

[SunShine]

Its not stupid to keep your promise to her. My dog died about two years ago and she was 11, so I can relate. The really sad thing is, we could have kept her alive longer but my really selfish dad, who has no respect for any animal, not even his eleven year old dog, did not want to pay $1000 to get her surgery on her hip and heart. I remember going to the vet. My mom, sis, and I were crying. We took her to a room and the vet put her in a cold looking metal cage. My mom couldn't say good bye because it was so heart breaking. I remember kissing Tasha and telling her I loved her. She was shaking, and I could swear she had tears in her eyes. I watched the vet get the needle ready then I left.

Sorry to get off topic. I haven't really thought of that day in a long time, and remembering her little shaky body and her watching us leave with those watery eyes makes me feel so guilty.

[tootrickyforyou]

Katie, that was sooo sad! I'm sitting here crying, then my dog comes in and I feel so bad...I've never had to put a dog to sleep, but I know when we have to put mine down, I'm going to be crying soooo hard...I'm crying just thinking about it! *wipes tears from eyes*

[SunShine]

Nichole, are you planning on doing it anytime soon? Whats wrong?

[funkygirlk16]

Oh my God. That was so sad. Lord, I'll never give my Trizie away. In fact, when i get off the net i think ill go play with mah baby. ;D