Animal lovers unite...
Pets are for LIFE....
A man in Grand Rapids, Michigan incredibly took out a $7000 full
page ad in the paper to present the following essay to the people
of his community.
How Could You? by Jim Willis
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've 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 directed at you, My Beloved Master, I was thinking of you. I
will think of you and wait for you forever. May everyone in your
life continue to show you so much loyalty.
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 American & Canadian animal shelters. Please
use this to help educate, on your websites, in newsletters, on
animal shelter and vet office bulletin boards. 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.
Please pass this on to everyone, not to hurt them or make them sad,
but it could save maybe, even one, unwanted pet.
A man in Grand Rapids, Michigan incredibly took out a $7000 full
page ad in the paper to present the following essay to the people
of his community.
How Could You? by Jim Willis
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've 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 directed at you, My Beloved Master, I was thinking of you. I
will think of you and wait for you forever. May everyone in your
life continue to show you so much loyalty.
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 American & Canadian animal shelters. Please
use this to help educate, on your websites, in newsletters, on
animal shelter and vet office bulletin boards. 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.
Please pass this on to everyone, not to hurt them or make them sad,
but it could save maybe, even one, unwanted pet.