Happy Valley
Well-Known Member
This may be old, but I just saw it, and whether it is true or not, it still bears reading and taking to heart.
> >> A man in Grand Rapids, Michigan incredibly took
> out a $7000 full page ad
> >> in the paper to present the following essay to
> the people of his
> >> 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
> 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 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 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.
> >>
> >> A man in Grand Rapids, Michigan incredibly took
> out a $7000 full page ad
> >> in the paper to present the following essay to
> the people of his
> >> 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
> 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 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 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.
> >>
