Re: Get out the tissue

[Jason Simkins <jaspat2@prodigy.net>]

Gina,
 Nothing like a good cry on a Sunday afternoon................thanks for the
touching essay, it really hurts your heart to read this.

I need to go love on my Daisy now.

Patty.

Gina Heitz wrote:

>  > >
>  > How Could You?
>  >
>  > A man in Grand Rapids, Michigan took out a $7000 full page ad in the
>  > paper to present the following essay to the people of our community. It
>  > really touched my heart and I hope it will yours too.
>  >
>  > HOW COULD YOU?
>  >
>  > By 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 bellyrub.
>  >
>  > 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 1
>  > 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 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. 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 American and Canadian animal
>  > shelters. Anyone is welcome to distribute the essay for a noncommercial
>  > 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. 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.