A PET FOR LIFE




I had this sent to me and it touched me greatly. I
wanted to add it to my site so others can read what a pet's point of view on
life's changes can be. Please know that I am here for the life
of each little one that is from Oregon Malamutes. If you cannot
keep your little one, please know that I am a phone call or email away and
I will help in re-homing your little one if you can no longer keep him or
her..  I do not want my babies in shelters or rescue ever.. If you know of
anyone that needs to place a pet please let me know as well. I enjoy helping
animals find new forever homes.


By Jim Wills, 2001


This piece touched me. It is beautifully written and applies to any animal that
can be kept as a pet. I hope it affects you too. Please be sure before
you buy that puppy.


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 have 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 understood 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 that 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 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. THE END