O/T poem i can across and had to share its so sad

[brimmhere]

[align=center][font="Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif"][size=+2]HOWCOULD YOU ?[font="Arial, Helvetica,sans-serif"][size=+1] [/size][/font][font="Arial, Helvetica,sans-serif"]
By Jim Willis, 2001 [/font][/align]
[align=left][font="Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif"]When I was a puppy,I entertained you with my antics and made you laugh. You called me yourchild, and despite a number of chewed shoes and a couple of murderedthrow pillows, I became your best friend. Whenever I was "bad," you'dshake your finger at me and ask "How could you?" -- but then you'drelent and roll me over for a belly rub.
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[align=left][font="Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif"]My housebreakingtook a little longer than expected, because you were terribly busy, butwe worked on that together. I remember those nights of nuzzling you inbed and listening to your confidences and secret dreams, and I believedthat life could not be any more perfect. We went for long walks andruns in the park, car rides, stops for ice cream (I only got the conebecause "ice cream is bad for dogs" you said), and I took long naps inthe sun waiting for you to come home at the end of the day.
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[align=left][font="Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif"]Gradually, youbegan spending more time at work and on your career, and more timesearching for a human mate. I waited for you patiently, comforted youthrough heartbreaks and disappointments, never chided you about baddecisions, and romped with glee at your homecomings, and when you fellin love.
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[align=left][font="Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif"]She, now your wife,is not a "dog person" -- still I welcomed her into our home, tried toshow her affection, and obeyed her. I was happy because you were happy.Then the human babies came along and I shared your excitement. I wasfascinated by their pinkness, how they smelled, and I wanted to motherthem, too. Only she and you worried that I might hurt them, and I spentmost of my time banished to another room, or to a dog crate. Oh, how Iwanted to love them, but I became a prisoner of love. As they began togrow, I became their friend. They clung to my fur and pulled themselvesup on wobbly legs, poked fingers in my eyes, investigated my ears, andgave me kisses on my nose. I loved everything about them and theirtouch -- because your touch was now so infrequent -- and I would'vedefended them with my life if need be. I would sneak into their bedsand listen to their worries and secret dreams, and together we waitedfor the sound of your car in the driveway.
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[align=left][font="Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif"]There had been atime, when others asked you if you had a dog, that you produced a photoof me from your wallet and told them stories about me. These past fewyears, you just answered "yes" and changed the subject. I had gone frombeing "your dog" to "just a dog," and you resented every expenditure onmy behalf. Now, you have a new career opportunity in another city, andyou 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 timewhen I was your only family. I was excited about the car ride until wearrived at the animal shelter. It smelled of dogs and cats, of fear, ofhopelessness. You filled out the paperwork and said "I know you willfind 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 hescreamed, "No, Daddy! Please don't let them take my dog!" And I worriedfor him, and what lessons you had just taught him about friendship andloyalty, about love and responsibility, and about respect for all life.
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[align=left][font="Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif"]You gave me agood-bye pat on the head, avoided my eyes, and politely refused to takemy collar and leash with you. You had a deadline to meet and now I haveone, too. After you left, the two nice ladies said you probably knewabout your upcoming move months ago and made no attempt to find meanother good home. They shook their heads and asked "How could you?"They are as attentive to us here in the shelter as their busy schedulesallow. They feed us, of course, but I lost my appetite days ago.
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[align=left][font="Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif"]At first, wheneveranyone passed my pen, I rushed to the front, hoping it was you that youhad changed your mind -- that this was all a bad dream...or I hoped itwould at least be someone who cared, anyone who might save me. When Irealized I could not compete with the frolicking for attention of happypuppies, oblivious to their own fate, I retreated to a far corner andwaited. 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 blissfullyquiet room. She placed me on the table and rubbed my ears, and told menot to worry. My heart pounded in anticipation of what was to come, butthere was also a sense of relief. The prisoner of love had run out ofdays. As is my nature, I was more concerned about her. The burden whichshe bears weighs heavily on her, and I know that, the same way I knewyour every mood. She gently placed a tourniquet around my foreleg as atear ran down her cheek. I licked her hand in the same way I used tocomfort you so many years ago. She expertly slid the hypodermic needleinto my vein. As I felt the sting and the cool liquid coursing throughmy body, I lay down sleepily, looked into her kind eyes and murmured"How could you?"
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[align=left][font="Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif"]Perhaps because sheunderstood my dogspeak, she said "I'm so sorry." She hugged me, andhurriedly explained it was her job to make sure I went to a betterplace, where I wouldn't be ignored or abused or abandoned, or have tofend for myself --a place of love and light so very different from thisearthly place. And with my last bit of energy, I tried to convey to herwith a thump of my tail that my "How could you?" was not directed ather. 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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[rabbitluvr04]

that is so sad, but what it even more sad it that it is true.

 

[brimmhere]

iknow i cried reading it.... i cant imagine how an animal must feelbeing in a home then for this to happen

 

[Malo]

that made me cry. I was just at the spca a few days ago and the look on those poor dogs' faces..

 

[northerndancer]

That is so sad. You can see how easily that could be true in so many cases.

I read one about a rabbit like that once it was called "in my cage"about when he was a cute little bunny he got lots of attention and thengradually just pushed into a cage and forgotten about:tears2:.

I think animals have a lot more "humanity" than many humans. Peoplesometimes say you shouldnt treat animals as if they are human but Ithink you should treat them as you would want to be treated. The onlything I do worryis I think I wouldnt like to eat cat food butthe cat doesnt seem to mind too much.

I think animals emotional capabilities can be better thanhumans....dogs are so often unswervingly loyal and not many people arelike that 100%. Animals sense danger and can sense time (teatimeusually) without a clock. Things our brains arent so good at.

ND

 

[Bassetluv]

This was extremely hard for me to read. I usedto volunteer as a dog walker for our local Humane Society. My decisionto do so came about after my own dog had died; I felt guilty over herpassing and vowed to never own another dog...but I missed thecompanionship so much that I decided to volunteer. That way I still haddogs in my life, at least on the weekends, and felt I was giving backto the dogs who needed help, at least in a small way.

I used to walk dogs on Saturdays and Sundays. Setting foot in theshelter was torturous for me. At the front, near the large glass doors,were rows upon rows of cages filled with cats...the overflow thatdidn't fit in the back room where the cats were normally kept. Walkingpast those cages reminded me of scenes from the Holocaust, only inanimal form; desperate cries filled the air, cats and kittens callingout, their tiny paws thrust through the bars in a feeble attempt toconnect with a human...hoping for someone to save them. I would stopand pet as many of them as I could, for as long as my heart wouldallow, before heading to the dog room.

In the dog room it was always frantic excitement...dogs eagerlybouncing up and down, leaping at the people who would stop to take alook at them. When they saw the dogwalkers ...the ones who had beenthere long enough to recognize them...the excitement would turn intofrenzy. They knew they were getting a chance to go outdoors, to breathethe fresh air and explore...a momentary release from the sterile prisonthat was their unchosen home.

I managed to do the volunteer work for about 18 months before finallyhaving to quit. Actually, I adopted my current dog from the shelter,and after taking her home (and discovering she suffered from severeseparation anxiety, aggression towards other dogs, and incomplete (orperhaps regressed) housebreaking, I realized that I had to give up thetime I was volunteering to give her the full attention she needed. Shehad originally been brought into the shelter as a stray, found runningaround on the highway that led out to our airport. Every bone in herbody protruded, and once they did get her back up to a reasonablehealth, food became a major issue...she was vicious if anyone went nearthe dish. So she'd been adopted out twice, and each time was returnedwithin days...the new owners didn't have the time or energy to put intosuch a high-maintenance animal. When I finally saw her for the firsttime, she was bouncing in her cage, jumping up and down in hereagerness to have someone pet her. But as the weeks passed, her energywent downhill, her spirit plummeted, and she began to lose the will tolive. More dogs were being brought in daily, and the shelter wasreaching critical mass...the decision to euthanize was coming down fromthe office. I knew that Kaya wouldn't survive this...she had been onthe list that was being considered as 'unadoptable' because of all herissues. So, despite my decision to never own another dog, I had to doit...and so on a Monday morning I went in to adopt her, so fearfulbecause I knew they had been planning on doing some euthanizing onSunday night.

When I walked into the back room to her cage, my heart stopped. Shewasn't there...in her cage was another dog, a new one I'd never seenbefore. Panic set in and I ran through the room, desperate, tears in myeyes, so afraid that she was gone. The room was constructed in theshape of a 'U', and as I turned the final corner I was shaking, soupset. How could they do this to her? She was such a wonderful,friendly, beautiful soul, and no doubt she'd seen so much hardship inher few short months of life...how could they simply decide to takeaway that precious life? And then, as I headed to the door to leave theroom, I saw her....there she was, in a cage that was positioned behindthe door. I cannot begin to describe just how I felt in that moment,and when she looked up and saw me, she jumped up and began wagging hertail, that goofy smile of hers stretched across her beautiful face. Itwas as if she knew I was there to take her home; she sensed it somehow.When I walked out of the shelter that day with her, my heart was sofull of love. She has been a challenge at times, as I had to retrainher in housebreaking, had to teach her not to snap out or threaten whenfood was around, had to overcome the separation anxiety (and the listof destruction, including my sofa, mybed, dog bed, kitchenchairs, and kitchen flooring, to name a few, is finally behind us), notto eat the cats, as they were members of the family and NOT lunch. Butshe has also become the most loyal, wonderful companion, the mostintelligent and goofiest dog I have ever had the pleasure to live with,and these past 8 years with her have been the most rewarding. I didquit volunteering at the shelter just a couple of weeks after adoptingKaya, as she desperately needed my full attention, but it was just aswell...I simply couldn't take the heartbreak any more in seeing all ofthose beautiful souls in cages, with new ones coming in every day. Thecats wereespecially heartbreaking, as there were always SOmany...they had no choice but to euthanize a good portion of them.

Today I look into my dog's eyes and I think,what if I had notbeen there for her? Her fate would have been the same as so many otherswho were carried or led down that longhallway to theeuthanasia room. I think of all those who did wind up there, those whowere too old or not cute enough or had problems similar to her...manyproblems that developed as a direct result of being abandoned andunwanted...and my heart aches for each and every one of them.

 

[Stephanie]

Oh, that made me cry! It's so true though and so sad.

 

[stanleysmommy]

Oh that almost made me cry.

 

[kelso]

Bassetluv, I know exactly how that goes.I started working with the Humane Society (which works closely with thecountyshelter) and was eventually allowed to volunteer at theshelter, even though people under 18 weren't allowed to volunteeralone. I started fostering for the Humane Society; going to the shelterand picking out animals to take home, clean up, rehabilitate if needed,train, and finding good adoptive homes. I usually went to the shelteron weekends, but one day, for some reason, I decided to go on a Tuesdaynight. They close at 5 pm on weekdays, and they euthanize early onWednesday morning. I was there at about 5:30 pm looking around when Inoticed a pitiful looking husky mix. Her gorgeous eyes struck me rightaway and I took her out and walked her around. When I went to put herback, I noticed a big pink highlighter mark on her cage card, whichsaid 3-3, the date for the next day, meaning she was going to beeuthanized for sure tomorrow morning. The shelter had already closedandshe had completely run out of chances. I thought "Wellthis won't do" and Iloaded her up in the car and took herhome.I made my decision so quickly that I didn't even botherto test her with other dogs or cats at the shelter, which I usually do.She is so lucky I didn't, because after I got her home I realized(after she attackedboth my dog and my cat) thathadI tested her before, I would have realized that it was a dangeroussituation for my other animals and she would have died the next day. Ididn'ttake her back though, because I had already fallen inlove. I kept her for about a month andloved her and trainedher. Sheeventually found a good home, where there were noother animals.

It's things like that that keep me going....when I know for sure I've made a difference.

Here she is, my gorgeous Missy.

 

[stanleysmommy]

This is something my friend sent me and I started crying hardly halfway through it it's so sad.....

The date is December the 25th,
A gorgeous sunny-day.
It makes me want to romp around,
But I'm too tired to play.
I have not eaten for a while,
I think it has been a week.
My only source of water,
Has been a sewage leak.
I lie herein a cardboard box,
And I feel quite alone.
I'm trying to stand up on my feet,
But all I can do is moan.
Won't someone come and rescue me,
Before my time is up?
Who wouldn't want to help a dog,
A precious little pup?
I want to yell and cry for help,
I want to get away.
My place is in a loving home,
With children with which I'd play.
I should be chasing tennis balls,
And licking children's faces.
Running circles in the yard,
Even sometimes winning races.
This is not where I should be,
By the road under a bridge.
Where there is no one I can find,
No mother nor father nor kid.
So is this box my final fate,
My only destiny?
What terrible thing did I ever do,
To make things end this way?
I know now my time has come,
on this beautiful winter day.
I will fall into eternal sleep,
and my sufferings will float away.
During my last day on this earth,
To my future owner I say,
"Catch up to you in heaven,
And have a Merry Christmas Day."

 

[stanleysmommy]

This is absolutely terrible......

A DOG SITS WAITING (author unknown)

A dog sits waiting in the cold autumn sun,
Too faithful to leave, to frightened to run
He's been here for days now with nothing to do
But sit by the road waiting for you
He can't understand why you left him that day
He thought you were stopping to play
He's sure you'll come back and that's why he stays
How long will he suffer? How many more days?
His legs have grown weak, his throat's parched and dry
He's sick now from hunger and falls with a sign
He lays down his head and closes his eyes

I wish you could see how a waiting dog dies.