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 even 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, so 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 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 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 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 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 big 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.

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 and Canadian animal shelters. Anyone is welcome to distribute this essay for a noncommercial purpose, as long as it is properly attributed with the copyright notice. Please use it to help educate, on your websites, in newsletters, on animal shelter and vet office bulletin boards. Tell the world that the decision to add a pet to your 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 spay/neuter campaigns in order to prevent unwanted animals. Please pass this on — it could save an unwanted pet. Remember, pets love unconditionally … people should be so devoted.  

~ Jim Willis

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God Bless and Happy Pet Parenting!

With love and good wishes,
jeannie.   ?

About jeannie:  I’ve been pro-actively involved in pet rescue all of my life. I founded Milagro Senior Pet Refuge© (Phoenix) in 1998, and BareFootPets (TM) in 2008. Animal welfare has always been and will always be my heart’s work. If my only legacy is that I save a handful of precious souls that would not survive otherwise, I’m good with that.

The post How Could You? appeared first on BareFootPets.

“IT” is what people call their pets when they stop loving them. When their hearts make a shift from loving their pet unconditionally as a treasured family member to feeling inconvenienced by the pet and seeing it as a nuisance, and basically wishing the pet would go away. This typically happens when the person experiences a change in their life circumstances (see list below). And the person starts feeling like the pet is in the way and doesn’t fit into the picture anymore.

Or it can be that someone around the pet owner is trying to influence them to give up the pet and is putting pressure on them, even tho the pet owner doesn’t want to give up his pet–like a new fiance or spouse, who has other plans for their life together and doesn’t want the pet in it.

If you ever notice your thoughts or conversations starting to sound like this, BEWARE. Your beloved pet’s time with you just ran out. His wellbeing is now in danger. Because, when a person starts to see their pet as “IT” and no longer calls him by his name … it won’t be long before they kick him to the curb. And they’ll be able to come up with 90 excuses to justify it. I’ve even listed some of the “usual” excuses here–the ones we in the rescue community hear over and over, every day, day in, day out, blah blah blah. Pick one.

Okay, so that sounded totally judgmental, and I apologize. The purpose of this post is in fact a positive and uplifting one: to help you navigate your way through these thoughts and feelings if they ever happen to you, while still keeping your pet’s wellbeing in mind. We know that life can change on a dime, and sometimes it’s true–pets cannot always come along. But we want to show you that, with a little planning ahead and a true commitment to keep your promise to your pet, you can make the transition without betraying his trust in you, and without leaving you guilt-ridden in the wake of a failure to protect him. This is what we’ll call your “final great and loving gift” to your pet.

How Do We Keep the “IT” From Happening To Us?

Unfortunately, there’s not an easy answer to that question. Human nature is kind of out of our control. Chances are the “IT” will happen to you. There’s no guilt in that. The fault will lie in how you handle it. If indeed your pet cannot come with you for this next chapter of your life, then it’s on you to do everything in your power to get him safely placed into a loving home for the next chapter of his life. He deserves it as much as you do.

The first moment you sense or have actual confirmation that things are getting ready to change, and your pet won’t be included, IMMEDIATELY begin planning for his safe placement into a new home, even if you have months ahead to plan, because finding the perfect home can indeed often take months. And every moment during that time is a gift that you want to use wisely. DON’T WAIT A MINUTE. That’s the biggest, most fatal mistake people make–waiting till it’s too late.

Get A Jump On The Clock!

When the clock runs out and nothing has been done yet to find the pet a home is when people just drop the pet off at the shelter on their way out of town. BAD BAD BAD. Shelters are too busy to advocate for every pet that comes to them, and there is no guarantee they’ll find your pet a home, and a real good chance he’ll be euthanized when the shelter no longer has room to keep him. Even if your pet is a purebred or the cutest little pup or kitten that ever lived. Doesn’t matter–shelters operate according to cost and space. That’s it.

Enlist the help of a local rescue organization, your family, friends, neighbors, co-workers, social media. Get the word out that your pet needs a new home. Ask everyone. And, if a stranger agrees to take your pet, be sure to request a home inspection. It’s perfectly reasonable–and responsible–to want to see where your beloved baby will be living and to ensure that it will be safe and sound with the new family. So get to know them and make sure the pet seems comfortable with them and not fearful. If your pet seems fearful or just doesn’t like them, DON’T leave him there. Thank the people nicely and let them know you’ll be in touch when you make your decision. Trust your pet’s instincts, even if it’s inconvenient for you.

Also, request a nominal adoption fee–even if only $25. If someone flinches at $25, then chances are they won’t buy good food for your pet, either, or give it veterinary care when needed. Again–“your final great and loving gift.”

You don’t want the precious pet you have loved to end up in a filthy, unsafe home, or left out in a back yard without shelter, or without good food and water, or basic veterinary care, or emergency veterinary care, or worst of all, without love and being part of a family anymore. These are the things you want to be sure to find for your pet before you let him go. Remember–“your final great and loving gift.”

See My Upcoming Post “Out-Strong The Excuses” Syndrome.

In this upcoming post, I’ll address the excuses listed in the photo above, to give you perspective and encouragement for finding your way through the feelings of giving up on your pet; and also, and even better, to figure out how to maybe keep your pet with you through the upcoming change. IT CAN BE DONE. Most importantly, keep your commitment of love in the front of all decision-making, and you and your pet should come through it all just fine.

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God Bless and Happy Pet Parenting!

With love and good wishes,
jeannie.   ?

About jeannie:  I’ve been pro-actively involved in pet rescue all of my life. I founded Milagro Senior Pet Refuge(TM) (Phoenix) in 1998, and BareFootPets(TM) in 2008. Animal welfare has always been and will always be my heart’s work. If my only legacy is that I save a handful of precious souls that would not survive otherwise, I’m good with that.

The post BEWARE OF “IT” appeared first on BareFootPets.