A man in Grand Rapids, Michigan incredibly took out a US $7,000 full page ad in the paper to present the HOW COULD YOU? By Jim Willis, 2001
HOW COULD YOU?
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 housetraining 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, 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 have defended them with my life if need be.
I would sneak into their beds and listen to their worries and secret dreams. 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 or cat, 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 goodbye 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, 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. 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 meant for 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.
Please do your part to stop the killing, and encourage all spay and neuter campaigns in order to prevent unwanted animals.
Boroma577 said
09:17 PM Nov 25, 2011
Have seen this many times and it still just kills me everytime I read it.
Spook said
09:35 PM Nov 25, 2011
Yeah, that one gets me every time I read it.
-- Edited by Spook on Friday 25th of November 2011 09:36:09 PM
Elle on Wheels said
08:54 PM Nov 27, 2011
Yep spot on. I can't bear to read things like that. Our animal companions are so unconditional and trusting of us.
sucastja said
07:04 AM Nov 28, 2011
makes you think doesn't it?
I know a few people who decide to breed their pets because the puppies / kittens are so cute - and wonder why I look at them in horror and tell them not to do it!!
If they were true animal lovers they wouldn't bring anymore animals into this world where we already put way too many down every year
very sad
scotia59 said
12:13 PM Nov 28, 2011
wow! I have never seen this before, it brought a tear to my eye, and made me give our lovely Hannah dog a big cuddle. I couldn't imagine doing that to her.
Jean
Spook said
04:45 PM Nov 28, 2011
Hi Jean. Yes, it makes me value my 4 girls just that little bit more every time I read it.
Elle on Wheels said
11:04 PM Nov 28, 2011
Yes there's got to be a way of stamping out backyard breeding and making sterilisation a condition of sale. Most importantly we need to erradicate puppy mills - thus avoid buying pups from pet shops and only buy from breeders or animal shelters. There are so many unscrupulous people out there. I don't advocate stopping mixed breeding - that strengthens the gene pool and most of my dogs have been mutleys. But there's got to be some way of stopping all the abuses out there. Same goes for cats. I love cats as well.
Yep know this one, get quite upset seeing everyone giving their pets away at the moment on gumtree. Probably because they want to go on holiday and cant be stuffed getting someone to look after them, I know their are mitigating circumstances, but there seems to be a lot at the moment.
goinsoon said
06:58 PM Nov 30, 2011
I read this and stepped out of the van (camped at sons place) and two beautiful border collies wagged their tails and almost smiled atr me.
I thought "how could they"
I am a 67 year old man and I bloody well cried
-- Edited by goinsoon on Wednesday 30th of November 2011 06:59:53 PM
Spook said
09:24 PM Nov 30, 2011
goinsoon wrote:
I read this and stepped out of the van (camped at sons place) and two beautiful border collies wagged their tails and almost smiled atr me.
I thought "how could they"
I am a 67 year old man and I bloody well cried
-- Edited by goinsoon on Wednesday 30th of November 2011 06:59:53 PM
I know where you're coming from mate.
EmmyBak said
03:21 PM Dec 2, 2011
Yes, the worst part of it is true. We have a new dog, 15 months old, she has been here before, as a lap dog (really too big, as she is a staffy), knows all the tricks to get into bed, kiss you goodnight, and kiss you during the night, just to tell you that she is there. Our dear old girl, would never have done the things this one gets to do, but is really a good girl all the same.
Shaggy Dog said
04:21 PM Dec 2, 2011
We lost our Foxy, Suzie, last year. Died at home with us holding her. Old age, and she had been not herself for the previous few days. Travelled with us all over the shop. I never thought losing a small dog would have so much effect on ones life. It flattened us.
Her little mate, our Tenterfield, Molly, took ages to get over losing her mate as well. She used to go sit by Suzies grave in the back yard most days for quite some time afterward.
Then Maggie, a shaggy little rough haired Jack Russell appeared on the scene and sorted us all out.
Sadness and gloom are just not part of her brief. Suzie was a rather serious little dog. Maggie? Nah, its all about fun and affection in equal doses.
Yep she travels well too.
Take it easy.
SD
Elle on Wheels said
09:08 PM Dec 2, 2011
EmmyBak wrote:
Yes, the worst part of it is true. We have a new dog, 15 months old, she has been here before, as a lap dog (really too big, as she is a staffy), knows all the tricks to get into bed, kiss you goodnight, and kiss you during the night, just to tell you that she is there. Our dear old girl, would never have done the things this one gets to do, but is really a good girl all the same.
Hi Emmybak welcome to the forum. There are lots of friendly and interesting people here. Are you planning to travel with your 'lap dog'? A staffy is not too big for a lap dog. Both mine think they are lap dogs as well and they are much larger than a staffy.
Elle on Wheels said
09:10 PM Dec 2, 2011
Hey Shaggy it's always hard when you lose a furry mate - doesn't matter what size or character. Nothing ever quite makes up for it.
bronnie said
03:54 PM Dec 11, 2011
So sad and so true what humans can do. Such unconditional love our fur babies give us, shame a lot of people aren't so loving...
Antique Pete said
05:12 PM Dec 20, 2011
I just read this and the tears are running down my cheeks, as you see from my picture , my master will not do this to me. he loves me too much gracie
A man in Grand Rapids, Michigan incredibly took out a US $7,000 full page ad in the paper to present the HOW COULD YOU?
By Jim Willis, 2001
HOW COULD YOU?
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 housetraining 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, 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 have defended them with my life if need be.
I would sneak into their beds and listen to their worries and secret dreams. 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 or cat, 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 goodbye 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, 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. 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 meant for 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.
Please do your part to stop the killing, and encourage all spay and neuter campaigns in order to prevent unwanted animals.
Have seen this many times and it still just kills me everytime I read it.
Yeah, that one gets me every time I read it.
-- Edited by Spook on Friday 25th of November 2011 09:36:09 PM
makes you think doesn't it?
I know a few people who decide to breed their pets because the puppies / kittens are so cute - and wonder why I look at them in horror and tell them not to do it!!
If they were true animal lovers they wouldn't bring anymore animals into this world where we already put way too many down every year
very sad
Jean
Hi Jean. Yes, it makes me value my 4 girls just that little bit more every time I read it.
Hey Ellen, these sort of muttleys?
Yep know this one, get quite upset seeing everyone giving their pets away at the moment on gumtree. Probably because they want to go on holiday and cant be stuffed getting someone to look after them, I know their are mitigating circumstances, but there seems to be a lot at the moment.
I read this and stepped out of the van (camped at sons place) and two beautiful border collies wagged their tails and almost smiled atr me.
I thought "how could they"
I am a 67 year old man and I bloody well cried
-- Edited by goinsoon on Wednesday 30th of November 2011 06:59:53 PM
I know where you're coming from mate.
We lost our Foxy, Suzie, last year. Died at home with us holding her. Old age, and she had been not herself for the previous few days. Travelled with us all over the shop. I never thought losing a small dog would have so much effect on ones life. It flattened us.
Her little mate, our Tenterfield, Molly, took ages to get over losing her mate as well. She used to go sit by Suzies grave in the back yard most days for quite some time afterward.
Then Maggie, a shaggy little rough haired Jack Russell appeared on the scene and sorted us all out.
Sadness and gloom are just not part of her brief. Suzie was a rather serious little dog. Maggie? Nah, its all about fun and affection in equal doses.
Yep she travels well too.
Take it easy.
SD
Hi Emmybak welcome to the forum. There are lots of friendly and interesting people here. Are you planning to travel with your 'lap dog'? A staffy is not too big for a lap dog. Both mine think they are lap dogs as well and they are much larger than a staffy.
he loves me too much
gracie