Reposting From Facebook: Please Read!

This is something someone shared on FaceCrook, and it’s deserving of being shared everywhere.  Hence, I put it up here.

 

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, 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.

Now that the tears are rolling down your face, pass it on! Send to everyone in your address book. This IS the reality of dogs given up to shelters!

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Read the Need of the Breed

Dogs are family.  That statement isn’t mine, but that makes it no less true.  Dogs want to be with you, protect you, and want to please you.  They want to LEARN what it takes to please you.  All they ask in return is your love, your time, and, of course, food.  Sounds like family to me….

I’ve always loved dogs, as far back as I can remember.  I never thought I’d actually get one of my own, though.  I couldn’t see having the time to care for them or the ability to schedule my life according to a pet’s needs.  And it IS hard sometimes.

It’s my ex-wife’s fault, really, that I have a dog now.  Her son (my former stepson) had been asking for a dog for awhile.  She finally caved 4 years ago, when her son was 10.  My wife and I were actually divorced at this point, but had a “friends with benefits” thing going on.  I still remember the phone call when she told me she’d gotten the dog.

What she got was a 5 or 6-month-old Bichon Frise.  I never would have thought I’d fall in love with a “foofy” dog like a Bichon, but I did indeed.  They’re actually rather cute when their fur is shorter.  The day I met this little critter, my ex and I went to PetSmart to get some supplies.  I carried him around.  I looked down at him and said, “Hold the baby”, which I think is a line from Borat that my co-workers would say all the time.  When I said it, he licked my chin.  I said it again, and he licked my chin again.  My canine obsession was born.

When we got back to my ex’s apartment, I wanted to play with him, and I drummed my hands on the floor, Ba-Da-Dum!, and he performed the same rhythm with his paws.  It was a magical bond created that day.  I would call to see if I could come over to play with him and offer to watch him if my ex was going out.  And it wasn’t one-sided.  She told me when my car would pull up that he’d go apeshit and bark at the door for me to hurry up.

Eventually, my ex and I went from “friends with benefits” to not even friends at all.  There’s the saying “My wife ran off with my dog, and I miss him”.  That’s pretty much how it felt.  Thus I made my decision to get a dog of my own.  Like I said, it’s all my ex’s fault I wanted to get one.

The point I want to get to with all of this backstory is that I could have rushed out and gotten a Bichon like hers.  But I lived in an apartment that didn’t allow dogs, and had to wait 10 months for my lease to expire.  This turned out to be an incredibly good thing, in that the time made me think.

Bichons are known for separation anxiety, we found out.  The little guy threw up every time he was left alone.  And then there’s the grooming….

I used my time to think about what might be a good fit for me, and I bought a book called The Dog Bible.  It’s a rather comprehensive encyclopedia of breeds.  I looked through and any picture that looked like a dog I might care to get, I read the profile.

Different breeds have different needs and traits.  Some dogs are high-energy, and need to run or have a lot of physical activity.  Some need a “job” to do, because they were bred for hunting, herding, digging for vermin, etc.  If they don’t have this need met, they can get bored and depressed and eventually become destructive.  Some are couch potatoes, and if you’re looking for a jogging partner, they’re not it.

And again, the grooming….

I was single again, and would be caring for an animal on my own.  A dog breed known for separation anxiety wouldn’t be good since I had to go to work to earn kibble money.  And since I don’t have a lot of said money, regular trips to the groomer wouldn’t be my best bet, either.  A short-haired breed that doesn’t need trimming would work, and a smaller dog would be better for apartment living.  I also wanted a dog with a moderate energy level, so we could play and roughhouse, but I wouldn’t have to be on the go all the time.

I narrowed it down to a final four options, including the Miniature Pinscher and Rat Terrier.  I found a Miniature Pinscher (Min Pin) rescue online, and I read books on the breed.  And read some more.  I picked out one of the dogs they had available, and it turns out she’s a Rat Terrier/Min Pin mix!  She behaves more like the Rat Terrier, so that’s how I see her.  I of course read up on them, too, when I learned she was R.T. as well as M.P.  She will likely not be my last Rat Terrier.

I don’t rule out getting other breeds in the future, including Pit Bulls, but I want to be a more experienced dog owner before getting a larger dog.  And, of course, I’ll do my research first.

That’s the moral today: Don’t make a pet purchase blindly.  Do your research.  If it looks like it won’t be a good fit for you and your lifestyle, you’ll only be out the cost of the books and not an adoption fee.  You also will not have risked traumatizing the dog (and yourself) by making uneducated decisions.

P.S.–Adopt from a rescue or shelter.  There are so many dogs that need homes, and they may be euthanized if not adopted.  They may even have been put there through no fault of their own.  Someone else might not have done THEIR research, and gave the dog up because of human mistakes.  “Open your heart to an animal in need, don’t give in to puppy mill greed.”