“How Could You?”
Copyright Jim Willis 2001
tiergartenjim@yahoo.com
http://www.crean.com/jimwillis
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.
