Ashley Scully

A man in new york to out an entire page for this in the New york times



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 belly rub.
> >
> > 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've 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 dog speak, 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
> > directed at
> > you, My Beloved Master, I was thinking of you. I will think of you
> > and wait for
> > you forever. May everyone in your life continue to show you so much

> > loyalty.
> >
> >
> > 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 &
> > Canadian animal shelters. Please use this 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.
> >
> > Please pass this on to everyone, not to hurt them or make them sad,

> > but it
> > could save maybe, even one, unwanted pet.
> >
> > Remember...They love UNCONDITIONALLY.