Pet Ownership Involves Commitment
Re: Transporting, PAW volunteer Kendra Blatzheim
recommends that a vital item to take along when
transporting animals is a First Aid Kit in case an
accident occurs. "Have something to put pressure on
bleeding, something to hold the mouth shut, something
to splint the legs."
Volunteer Linda Coleman responded to the tip about
securing the dog's leash in a closed car window,
noting that extreme vigilance is necessary if using
this option, since someone outside might try to pull
on the leash, or it could get caught on something. An
alternative is to fasten the leash to something inside
the car (perhaps an arm rest). And of course, the
most secure choice is usually to place the dog in a
crate or a gated/grated-off backseat. If you don't
secure the dog in a crate or by leash in the car,
remember to have your hand on the leash (and to check
that the leash is connected to the dog) before opening
the car door to exit.
Now on to the tip about Commitment, and how to make a
difference by spreading the word that when people get
a pet, they should plan for a lifetime commitment:
A man in Grand Rapids, Michigan took out a full page
ad in the paper to present the following essay to the
people of his community. Requests the author, Jim
Willis: "Tell people that the decision to add a pet
to the family is an important one for life, that
animals deserve our love and sensible care...and that
all life is precious. Please do your part to stop the
killing, and encourage all spay and neuter campaigns
in order to prevent unwanted animals."
HOW COULD YOU?
By Jim Willis
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 throw pillows, I
became your best friend. Whenever Iwas "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.Ê 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 saveÊme.
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.
A 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 the 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 public 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 spay and neuter campaigns in order to prevent
unwanted animals.
Copyright 2001 Jim Willis
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For more Dog Tips about pet
care, adoption and the work PAW does, visit our
website at:
Partnership for Animal Welfare, Inc.
Today's Tip includes an addendum to last week's tip
about "Transporting Dogs by Car," as well as a story
to illustrate the importance of the simple but
important principle that "Pet Ownership Involves
Commitment."
www.paw-rescue.org
P.O. Box 1074, Greenbelt, MD 20768