"We have enslaved the rest of
the animal creation,
and have treated our distant cousins in fur and feathers so badly that
beyond doubt,
if they were able to formulate a religion,
they would depict the devil in human form."
~William Ralph Inage
Cait Kitty/5:20 PM
I think I could turn and live
with animals, they are so placid and self-contain'd,
I stand and look at them long and long.
They do not sweat and whine about their condition,
They do not lie awake in the dark and weep for their sins,
They do not make me sick discussing their duty to God,
Not one is dissatisfied, not one is demented with the mania of owning
things,
Not one kneels to another, nor to his kind that lived thousands of years
ago,
Not one is respectable or unhappy over the whole earth.
Walt Whitman, "Leaves of Grass"
Cait Kitty/5:16 PM
A heartbreaking story...even
for a cat...
"How Could You?"
ŠJim Willis 2001
http://jimwillis0.tripod.com/tiergarten/index.html
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
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 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 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
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 you, My Beloved Master, I was thinking of. I
will think of you and wait for you forever.
May everyone in your life continue to show you so much loyalty.
The End
4.19.2002
Cait Kitty/6:33 PM
