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> << PLEASE CIRCULATE
>
> A man in Grand Rapids, Michigan took out a full page ad
> in the paper to
> present the following essay to the people of the
> community.
>
> 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 home comings,
> 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 adoption>>
>
>
> A man in Grand Rapids, Michigan took out a full page ad
> in the paper to
> present the following essay to the people of the
> community.
>
> 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 home comings,
> 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 adoption>>
>
