Letter from a Pet

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 bellyrub.

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 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.

May our "furry" boys, Casper and Frosty never have to write a letter like this.

Sad Day - Chocolate Pie vs Humpty Dumpty

There are some things that can be fixed easily. For instance, there was a grandson that was about to experience a "sad day" because someone had eaten the last piece of Grammy's chocolate pie that he had anticipated would be his. Grammy could fix that and did simply by just making another chocolate pie. Wouldn't it be wonderful if broken lives could be fixed so simply.

If you are familiar with the poem "Humpty Dumpty", then you can relate when I say that I can visualize just hundreds and hundreds of tiny pieces laying strewn all around. About now you are asking what does chocolate pie and Humpty Dumpty have in common? Well, one can be fixed and the other can't. Maybe it was Humpty's choice to fall off the wall and maybe it wasn't, however, he was still broken.

Please tolerate my rambling and maybe all of this will tie together in the end or maybe not.

One passage of scripture that keeps ringing in my ears is "Judge not that you not be judged". I am really struggling with that statement in dealing with the concept of addiction. Again, Humpty comes into play as you watch a loved one's life break into hundreds of pieces and blow into the wind. Please don't say "It is their choice", I am not sure that is true but even if it is, remember the judging part! You know to fully understand the depths an addiction can affect families you just have to remember Humpty. Nobody is spared. Spouses, siblings, parents, children , the person addicted, absolutely nobody.

Compassion without enabling is a monumental task. I for one don't claim to know just how to do this. I do know that when I drove out from a pasture yesterday after seeing a loved one alone, drunk, sad and with as tender a heart as a person could have, my heart felt like Humpty Dumpty. Judge not lest I be judged!

Mythbusters

Mythbusters is one of my favorite TV shows. There are several things I wish they would explore. Yep, thinking I will send some of these in for their consideration:

I always heard that we should look forward to the aging process and they compare it to fine wine and cheese. However, doesn't wine go sour after too long a period? Doesn't cheese mold if kept too long?

What goes around comes around. This could be true unless you have dementia. Then would you know if you are going or coming?

Have you ever heard of old age referred to as the "Golden Years"? Hmnnn, maybe they meant fools' gold.

Could they convince a teenager that "now is the best years of your life" when they are fighting acne, puberty and all the other things connected with that age.

However, lest we be too negative there are some perks to aging. For instance, you get your driver's license free over the age of 65. That is if you can still drive. You also get a senior's discount when you go out to eat. Of course, you might now have any teeth left to eat with.

Yup, going to be a bear!!!!!!!!!!!!!