[nukkad] HOW COULD YOU?

[adheer <>]

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I'm sometimes asked "Why do you spend so much of your time and 
money talking about kindness to animals when there is so much cruelty to men?" 
I answer: "I am working at the roots." -George T. Angell, reformer (1823-1909)
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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 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.

-- Jim Willis




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