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Quite Touching

R31 Chick

By R31 Chick,
in Western Australia

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R31 Chick Mentor

R31 Chick

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I read this and thought how sad it was, yet so common. Maybe you will enjoy the read too. I probably am the only one being the animal loving person that I am anyway. Also, sorry it is not on the topic of cars or anything.

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 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'tlet 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. 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

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ix9 Grand Master

ix9

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my parents put our old dog down coz he bit me... twice....

i was sad for ages... coz he was still a good dog *sniff* he was just being "nippy" at me... but no no, let's put him down!

took him 2 and a half shots to put him down, as he was such a strong dog! (was a dingo-labrador)

*sigh*

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R31 Chick Mentor

R31 Chick

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Ohhhh, thats yuck. My horse is sick and has not been looked after his whole life. He has his tongue scared as he nearly had it 'docked' like a dogs tail when he was racing. It is gross. I hate animal cruelty.

Drifta, with ya 110%

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R31 Chick Mentor

R31 Chick

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Exactly, now my old boy (15yo stallion) who was skin and bone when I got him and his feet were all cracked is finally starting to look and feel better when he started coughing. Vet said $1500 surgery to fix his throat or put him down when the area is so ulcerated he can't even eat. Lovely predicament huh.

If you look after your old Staffy (by the sounds of it, it is very well looked after) then it could go to 16 like our old Blue Heeler.

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drifta Community Regular

drifta

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Originally posted by R31 Chick

Exactly, now my old boy (15yo stallion) who was skin and bone when I got him and his feet were all cracked is finally starting to look and feel better when he started coughing.  Vet said $1500 surgery to fix his throat or put him down when the area is so ulcerated he can't even eat.  Lovely predicament huh.

If you look after your old Staffy (by the sounds of it, it is very well looked after) then it could go to 16 like our old Blue Heeler.

yeah the people next door have a 16year old staffy,mine is built like a brick sh*ithouse &is fit as a fiddle
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R31 Chick Mentor

R31 Chick

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Haha, they keep kicken when there healthy. We put ours down as he was blind and to fix it he was gonna probably die under anasthetic anyway. He wasn't happy anymore. He also hated cars so we had a vet come out and put him down at our house so not to distress him at all.

Well, $1500 for my vet bill to fix my horse. He is also un rideable for a few months after he has the op. but he is worth it.

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