How could you do it?
By Jim Willis 2001
How could you do it?
This story is not written by me, but I have translated the story from Danish because I found it to have a profound effect on me. Therefore I cannot in any way claim this to be my intellectual property, I am merely the translater.
As pup I amused you with my pranks and made you laugh.
You called me your baby, and even though I left some shoes chewed through and teared some decorative pillows I became your best friend.
When I had been "bad" you would ask me with raised fingers "how could you do it?", but then you would let yourself appease and scratch my belly.
It took longer time than expected to house train me, because you were awfully busy, but we worked together on it.
I remember the nights in the bed, where I would press my nose against you and you would confide to me your innermost thoughts, and I was convinced that life couldn't get any better.
We had long walks and trips to the park, drove in the car and stopped to eat ice cream (I only got the cone "Ice cream is bad for dogs," you would say.
And I took long naps in the sun-light, while I waited for you to come home later those days.
Bit by bit you started to spent more time on your work and on your career and on finding a human friend.
I waited patiently for you, comforted you when you had heart trouble and dissapointments, never scolded you for having bad judgement, rolled on the floor in joy when you came home, and when you fell in love.
She, who is your wife, is not a "dog person", despite that I welcomed her to our home, tried to show affection for her and obey her.
I was happy because you were.
Then came the babies, and I shared your excitement.
I was fascinated with the small, pink creatures and their scent, and I also wanted to take care of them.
But she and you were afraid that I would hurt them.
And I spent most of that time banished to another room or a dog cage.
Oh, how I longed to love them, but I soon became of "slave of love"
Gradually as they grew up, I became their friend.
They clutched my fur and pulled themselves up on shaking legs.
They poked their fingers in my eyes, examined my ears and kissed my nose.
I loved everything about them and their caresses, for your caresses were now so rare, and I would have defended them with my life if necessary.
I used to sneak into their beds and lay ears to their worries and innermost thoughts, and together we would wait for the sound of your car in the driveway.
There was a time where you, if anyone asked you if you had a dog, would take a picture out of your wallet and tell them stories about me.
Through the last years you have just answered "yes" and changed the subject.
I have gone from being "your dog" to "just a dog", and you didn't like the expense I was.
Now you have been offered a job in another city, and you and your family will move to an appartment where it is not allowed to have animals.
You have made the right decision for your "family", but there was a time when I was the only family you had.
I was thrilled with the ride, until we arrived at the animals' home.
It smelled like dogs and cats, of fear and hopelessnes.
You filled out the forms and said "I know you will find a good home for her".
They shrugged their shoulders and looked embaressed at you.
They knew the reality for a middle-aged dog, even one with "papers".
You had to tear your son's fingers from my collar while he screamed "No Dad! You can't let them take my dog!"
And i became worried for him and for everything you just had taught him about friendship and loyalty, about love and responsibility and of respect for any living being.
You patted me on my head, evaded my eyes and politely declined to to take my collar and leash with you.
You had a deadline, as have I now.
When they had left, the two nice ladies said that you probably had known about the relocation for months, but hadn't tried to find a new home for me.
They shook their heads and said "how could he do it?"
They are so attentive towards us here in the animals' home, as much as their stressed time permits.
Of course they feed us, but I lost my appetite a couple of days ago.
In the beginning, when someone walked past my cage I would jump to the front in the hope that it was you, that you had changed your mind, that it was all just a bad dream... Or I hoped that at least someone would like me, someone who would save me.
When I realised that I couldn't compete with happy puppies that, unknowing their own fate, would scamper about to get attention, I withdrew to a distant corner and waited.
I heard her footsteps when she came after me late one day, and trudged after her along the corridor to another room.
A blessedly silent room.
She sat me on a table and stroked my ears and told me not to be afraid.
My heart was hammering in expectation of what was going to happen, but there was also a sense of relief. The days of the love slave were gone. As it is my nature, I was more worried for her.
The burden she carries weighs down heavily upon her, and I know that the same way I always knew how you felt.
Carefully she laid a turniquet around my front leg while a tear was dripping down her cheek. I licked her hand the same way I used to comfort you so many years ago.
She stabbed me professionally with the needle. When I felt the stab and the cool liquid run through my body I lay down, sleepy, looked into her friendly face and mumbled "how could you do it?"
Perhaps she understood my dog-speech, because she said "I'm sorry".
She hugged me, and hastily told me that it was her job to make sure I got to a better place where I wouldn't be neglegted or abused or abandoned or forced to take care of myself. A place of love and light so much different than this earthly place.
And with one last effort I tried with a was of my tail to express that my "how could you do it?" wasn't aimed 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 always show you the same loyalty that I did.