The Christmas Puppy
(Author Unknown)
It seemed like such a good idea in the beginning. There I was, in my cage at the pet store with my brother and sister. I could tell by the crowds in the store everyday that Christmas was drawing near. My brother, sister, and I all hoped each morning that today would be the day we would go to a new home, one filled with loving, caring people.
First it was the beagle in the cage next to us. I saw the excited gleam in his eye as his new family prepared to take him home. I hoped one day that I would feel the same excitement. Then the cute little bunny from one aisle over was picked. When the ferret with the bad case of psoriasis found a new home, I began to think I would stay a pet store puppy forever! Finally, it happened.
I had seen the couple in the store the week before, talking about bringing home a Christmas puppy for their son Billy. You see, Billy was eight years old, and had been pestering his folks for a puppy for some time now. Although they were busy people, they had decided that a new puppy would make the ideal Christmas present for Billy. The car ride home was exhilarating and terrifying at the same time. It seemed so cold outside, and I was very glad that Billy would keep me inside.
I stayed at Billy's aunt's house until the night before Christmas, so as not to ruin the surprise. That night, Billy's dad put me in a small, dark box with a couple of holes punched in the side for air. I could see through the holes the pretty green bow they had tied around my box.
Finally, it came time for Billy to open his presents. There was a GI Joe figure, some new slippers, and a big truck or two. At last, I felt my box being picked up and heard Billy's mom say, "OK, Billy, one more present. We saved the best for last". I felt like I was going to turn inside out with anticipation, when suddenly the box was flooded with light and there was my new boy, Billy. He
shrieked so loud when he saw me that it was a little bit scary! "A puppy, a puppy!"
The first few days with Billy were puppy heaven! He was out of school you see, and had lots of time to take care of me. We played all day, and I slept in his bed at night. Things just couldn't have been better.
After a week or so, Billy's mom took me to my new doctor. By then, Billy's holiday vacation was over and he was back in school. The doctor told Mom all about how to keep me healthy and happy. Mom did seem a little distracted though, especially when the nurse from school called on her cell phone to say that Billy had a bloody nose. I didn't even mind the shot I had to get, because like the doctor told me it was better than getting sick! As Mom and I left, the doctor reminded us that I needed more than just one shot to be protected, and I should come back in a month for another check-up. I never saw the doctor again.
As time went by, I really started to grow! I suppose that I wasn't quite as cute as before, because Billy and I didn't spend as much time together. He seemed to have a lot of things to do beside take me for walks and fill my food bowl. Billy and his friends sat in front of a strange box filled with moving pictures every afternoon, playing some game I suppose. Heck, I couldn't even pronounce Nintendo, much less play those kind of games. I started to get confused about what my real name was.
At first, everyone called me Petey, which I thought was a great name. A funny thing started to happen when I got to be about six months old. Mom and Dad stopped calling me Petey, and started calling me "the dog". I guess that was OK, I am a dog after all. A few weeks later though, they changed my name again. Now I was "that damn dog". I wasn't sure, but I didn't think that was such a nice name.
Since my family didn't have much time for me anymore, I had to think of things to do on my own. I liked to chew, and so I did! Remember that GI Joe Billy got for Christmas? Well somehow I managed to chew off his left leg, which Billy seemed mad about. After a couple more incidents like that, Billy's dad decided I should live outside.
Well, spring had come, and the weather was nice so I figured, why not? I thought they would build me one of those nice doghouses like I had seen in the pet store. Maybe it would have carpeting and a soft blanket to sleep on.
Well, they must have forgotten to build it, because I spent most of the time tied to a tree in the yard.
That was OK for awhile, but I began to get pretty bored. I found some nice soft dirt to dig in, but that made Mom mad. Something about flower bulbs and grass seed that I really didn't understand. There was a dog next door tied to
a tree in his yard, so we spent most of the day talking. For some reason, that made Dad mad too! I just couldn't seem to do anything right.
Finally, one day I heard Dad say to Mom, "I don't care how you do it, just get rid of that damn dog!" I figured Billy would convince them I should stay, but he didn't much care one way or the other. Mom came outside and unhooked me from the chain. She put an old belt of Dad's through my collar and we went out to the car.
At first I thought it was time to go to the doctor's for a checkup. Once we drove off though, we headed in the opposite direction. I could hear all the dogs talking inside the building as soon as we turned into the driveway.
Mom and I went inside, and she handed the belt to the lady at the counter. Then she patted my head, and walked away, without me. The lady at the desk took me in the back and put me in a cage like the one I had in the pet store, only colder and dirtier. The room was filled with dogs, I even saw that cute Beagle I had known at the pet store.
That was five days ago. I guess that I must have a new home now, because a man came by this morning and put a red sticker on my cage door. Here comes the lady who feeds me, and she is carrying a thing to give shots with, just like my doctor did. As she walks me into another room, I see some of the friends I have made in this new place. Funny, they all seem to be asleep on
the floor.
Oh well, the lady just told me not to worry, everything would be all right. She seems sad though, and I don't really understand why. Maybe being a Christmas puppy wasn't so great after all.
A Puppy for Christmas seems like a wonderful idea. But just remember that A PUPPY IS FOR LIFE and be sure you are prepared to care and nurture him past the cute puppy stage and through the naughty teenager phase. He will need training and regular exercise to keep him from getting into mischief. As the adult, you must be willing and prepared to take over if/when the children lose interest. Puppies grow fast and in a year or two, with good leadership, you will have that wonderful adult who will be your devoted companion for life.
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HOW COULD YOU?
(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 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.
And with my last bit of energy, I tried to convey to her with a thump of mytail 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.
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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 animal shelters. Anyone is welcome to distribute the essay for a noncommercial purpose, as long as it is properly attributed with the copyright notice.
Understand 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 to do the same.