Found this on another board, almost made me cry.
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 acouple 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 thenyou'd relent and roll me over for a belly rub.
My housebreaking took a little longer than expected, because you were terribly busy, butwe worked on that together. I remember those nights of nuzzling you in bed and listeningto your confidences and secret dreams, and I believed that life could not be any moreperfect.
We went for long walks and runs in the park, car rides, stops for ice cream (I only gotthe cone because "ice cream is bad for dogs" you said), and I took long naps inthe 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 timesearching for a human mate. I waited for you patiently, comforted you through heartbreaksand disappointments, never chided you about bad decisions, and romped with glee at yourhomecomings, and when you fell in love. She, now your wife, is not a "dogperson", still I welcomed her into our home, tried to show her affection, and obeyedher. I was happy because you were happy.
Then the human babies came along and I shared your excitement. I was fascinated by theirpinkness, how they smelled, and I wanted to mother them, too. Only she and you worriedthat I might hurt them, and I spent most of my time banished to another room, or to a dogcrate. Oh, how I wanted to love them, but I became a "prisoner of love." As theybegan to grow, I became their friend. They clung to my fur and pulled themselves up onwobbly legs, poked fingers in my eyes, investigated my ears, and gave me kisses on mynose. I loved everything about them and their touch-because your touch was now soinfrequent-and I would've defended them with my life if need be. I would sneak into theirbeds and listen to their worries and secret dreams, and together we waited for the soundof your car in the driveway.
There had been a time, when others asked you if you had a dog, that you produced a photoof me from your wallet and told them stories about me. These past few years, you justanswered "yes" and changed the subject. I had gone from being "yourdog" 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 toan 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 aboutthe 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 goodhome for her." They shrugged and gave you a pained look. They understand therealities facing a middle-aged dog, even one with "papers." You had to pry yourson's fingers loose from my collar as he screamed "No, Daddy! Please don'tlet themtake my dog!" And I worried for him, and what lessons you had just taught him aboutfriendship 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 mycollar and leash with you. You had a deadline to meet and now I have one, too. After youleft, the two nice ladies said you probably knew about your upcoming move months ago andmade no attempt to find me another good home. They shook their heads and asked "Howcould you?" They are as attentive to us here in the shelter as their busy schedulesallow. They feed us, of course, but I lost my appetite days ago. At first, whenever anyonepassed my pen, I rushed to the front, hoping it was you that you had changed yourmind-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 forattention of happy puppies, oblivious to their own fate, I retreated to a far corner andwaited. I heard her footsteps as she came for me at the end of the day, and I padded alongthe aisle after her to a separate room. A blissfully quiet room. She placed me on thetable and rubbed my ears, and told me not to worry. My heart pounded in anticipation ofwhat was to come, but there was also a sense of relief. As is my nature, I was moreconcerned 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 atear ran down her cheek. I licked her hand in the same way I used to comfort you so manyyears ago. She expertly slid the hypodermic needle into my vein. As I felt the sting andthe cool liquid coursing through my body, I lay down sleepily, looked into her kind eyesand murmured "How could you?" Perhaps because she understood my dogspeak, shesaid "I'm so sorry." She hugged me, and hurriedly explained it was her job tomake sure I went to a better place, where I wouldn't be ignored or abused or abandoned, orhave to fend for myself-a place of love and light so very different from this earthlyplace
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 acouple 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 thenyou'd relent and roll me over for a belly rub.
My housebreaking took a little longer than expected, because you were terribly busy, butwe worked on that together. I remember those nights of nuzzling you in bed and listeningto your confidences and secret dreams, and I believed that life could not be any moreperfect.
We went for long walks and runs in the park, car rides, stops for ice cream (I only gotthe cone because "ice cream is bad for dogs" you said), and I took long naps inthe 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 timesearching for a human mate. I waited for you patiently, comforted you through heartbreaksand disappointments, never chided you about bad decisions, and romped with glee at yourhomecomings, and when you fell in love. She, now your wife, is not a "dogperson", still I welcomed her into our home, tried to show her affection, and obeyedher. I was happy because you were happy.
Then the human babies came along and I shared your excitement. I was fascinated by theirpinkness, how they smelled, and I wanted to mother them, too. Only she and you worriedthat I might hurt them, and I spent most of my time banished to another room, or to a dogcrate. Oh, how I wanted to love them, but I became a "prisoner of love." As theybegan to grow, I became their friend. They clung to my fur and pulled themselves up onwobbly legs, poked fingers in my eyes, investigated my ears, and gave me kisses on mynose. I loved everything about them and their touch-because your touch was now soinfrequent-and I would've defended them with my life if need be. I would sneak into theirbeds and listen to their worries and secret dreams, and together we waited for the soundof your car in the driveway.
There had been a time, when others asked you if you had a dog, that you produced a photoof me from your wallet and told them stories about me. These past few years, you justanswered "yes" and changed the subject. I had gone from being "yourdog" 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 toan 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 aboutthe 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 goodhome for her." They shrugged and gave you a pained look. They understand therealities facing a middle-aged dog, even one with "papers." You had to pry yourson's fingers loose from my collar as he screamed "No, Daddy! Please don'tlet themtake my dog!" And I worried for him, and what lessons you had just taught him aboutfriendship 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 mycollar and leash with you. You had a deadline to meet and now I have one, too. After youleft, the two nice ladies said you probably knew about your upcoming move months ago andmade no attempt to find me another good home. They shook their heads and asked "Howcould you?" They are as attentive to us here in the shelter as their busy schedulesallow. They feed us, of course, but I lost my appetite days ago. At first, whenever anyonepassed my pen, I rushed to the front, hoping it was you that you had changed yourmind-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 forattention of happy puppies, oblivious to their own fate, I retreated to a far corner andwaited. I heard her footsteps as she came for me at the end of the day, and I padded alongthe aisle after her to a separate room. A blissfully quiet room. She placed me on thetable and rubbed my ears, and told me not to worry. My heart pounded in anticipation ofwhat was to come, but there was also a sense of relief. As is my nature, I was moreconcerned 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 atear ran down her cheek. I licked her hand in the same way I used to comfort you so manyyears ago. She expertly slid the hypodermic needle into my vein. As I felt the sting andthe cool liquid coursing through my body, I lay down sleepily, looked into her kind eyesand murmured "How could you?" Perhaps because she understood my dogspeak, shesaid "I'm so sorry." She hugged me, and hurriedly explained it was her job tomake sure I went to a better place, where I wouldn't be ignored or abused or abandoned, orhave to fend for myself-a place of love and light so very different from this earthlyplace
