How could you? – A dog’s story

My husband and I have been struggling lately with what to do with our two dogs. I know I am opening myself up to being flamed for even thinking about finding a new home for them, but we just can’t give them the love and attention they need and deserve and we really can’t afford them. :( We haven’t figured out what to do yet (and we may very well keep them), but Jody ran across this “story” from an anonymous author on Craigslist – where many people try to find new homes for their dogs. I cried when I read it. :( It’s very powerful and hits a little too close to home.

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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 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, 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.

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6 thoughts on “How could you? – A dog’s story

  1. I know it’s hard to have dogs and a baby. An overconfident friend who smirked “What, it’s crazy to adopt a dog a month before you’re due to have a baby?” just posted an update that her pooch had a nice new home now. Another friend mused about the same situation with me, and together we realized that our dogs are the same dogs they were, but we’re more tired and stressed and definitely poorer. Please try a little while longer – hopefully it will get better. It has for me.

  2. I’ve read that article before and it always gets to me. I do understand how you feel, though; it is a tough situation all around. Good luck with whatever you decide to do.

  3. Man, talk about a tug at the heart strings, and I don’t even have a dog! Hope you guys do what you feel is right. I’ll be thinking of you.

  4. I had to take a break in the middle of this to go cuddle with Thor.

    I know how hard it can be to keep dogs. Your decision is yours to make. I think that posting this article shows that you are thinking about how to handle any decision responsibly.

    Best of luck with this. I’m (of course) pulling for keeping them. But I understand how life can become complicated.

  5. Well maybe if you spent a little less time on the INTERNET and more time with the poor pups you wouldn’t even have to think of giving them up. I think that is unforgivable if you give them up. I suppose it’s priorities though, if it was breastfeeding advocacy, writing a letter to target or Free Tibet it would be worth all the effort.

  6. Thank you all for your comments. I really appreciate them.

    Yes, it is hard to balance time and money between myself, my husband, my baby and my dogs. We’ve all got our needs and wants.

    The more I think about it though, the more I realize it’s not so much about time (though they could use more attention from _both_ Jody and I), it’s more about the money (or lack thereof).

    When we got the dogs 7 years ago, I didn’t have the foresight to think about where we’d be financially in the future. Seriously, I wasn’t even thinking about kids at that point! I wasn’t thinking that we’d be living on one income and struggling to make ends meet.

    Like Em said, it is all about priorities. My priorities are to feed and clothe my human family and pay our bills first. The dogs, like it or not, come second. That’s just reality.

    The problem comes whenever we want to go visit family or take a vacation. It costs us $30/day to board the dogs. That adds up really fast.

    We have a vacation coming up at the end of September (thanks largely to the fact that we won’t have to spend very much money to do it), and the idea of paying $270 to board the dogs isn’t sitting well with me. We don’t have $270. We’re going to try to find someone who can stop by to let them out a couple times a day, but it’s hard when they don’t know the person. (And means they are that much more likely to make a run for it, which is no fun for someone who’s volunteered to take care of them.) We’re going to fix the gate this weekend and hopefully prevent any future breakouts, but Ellie has been known to jump the fence and it’s already nearly 6 feet tall.

    Also, when I talked about finding a new home for them, I meant just that. Finding someone who would be willing to take them both (together – I would never separate them) and give them a good home. I am not talking about dropping them off at the humane society.

    So that’s a bit about where I’m coming from on this whole decision. It’s definitely a tough one and not one I’m making lightly.

    Thanks again. :)

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