Animals are a huge responsibility

So many people take on animals without any thought to the fact that you are taking on a dozen or more years of responsibility. At times it is necessary to take an animal and later find it a good home elsewhere. That is honorable. What is not honorable is taking a member of your family and dropping it off at a shelter because it's become inconvenient for you. Someone sent me this is an email. My first reaction was a flood of tears. Please read this and pass it on because maybe it will make some people who want to go on vacation think before they drop their pet off at an animal shelter.

Educational and realistic on "giving up" pets...
this will bring tears to your eyes.

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 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 and 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.