Prisoner of Love

[xoxoxoBruce]

When I was a puppy…

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 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 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 in here at 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 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 into 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 that 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.

[PIMPnazT]

Good read. Absolutely true.

[SamIam]

My, that was sad, Bruce. But too many people treat animals as commodities. Radar, for example, would be unmoved by your post. When I get an animal, I am getting a friend for life. There have been instances where circumstances forced me to part with a dog or a cat, but its always been to as good a home as I could find for them. Never to the pound.

[classicman]

:'''('''

[BrianR]

I, too, always found a home for my furry friends. I make a pact with them when I take them in to always look out for them, keep them safe, fed and cared for. Forever, even after my death. My will provides for them. Not a huge amount of money or really any at all, but I have friends who have sworn to take them in, along with all their familiar stuff and care for them in the same way I do in the event of my death or extreme disability.

[Trilby]

I AM NOT READING THAT!

[monster]

Can you still eat them after the injection? I have recipes....

[squirell nutkin]

Yes, but your lips may get a bit numb and tingly for a while.

[lumberjim]

Originally Posted by Brianna

I AM NOT READING THAT!

WORD

[fargon]

I read it and it made me cry.

[skysidhe]

Originally Posted by Brianna

I AM NOT READING THAT!

Don't!

I have never done this deed but that fact doesn't make me feel any better for reading it. grr

Thanks bruce (grumpy)

[squirell nutkin]

Alone from night to night you'll find me
Too weak to break the chains that bind me
I need no shackles to remind me
I'm just a pris'ner of love

For one command I stand and wait now
From one who's master of my fate now
I can't escape for it's too late now
I'm just a pris'ner of lo-ove

What's the good of my caring
If someone is sharing those arms with me
Although she has another
I can't have another for I'm not free

She's in my dreams awake or sleeping
Upon my knees to her I'm creeping
My very life is in her keeping
I'm just a pris'ner of lo-ove

[spoken:]
Ah, what's the good of my caring
If somebody else is sharing those arms with me
'Though you have another
I can't have another
'Cause you see honey, I'm not free

She's in my dreams awake or sleeping
Upon my knees to her I'm creeping
My very life is in her keeping
I'm just a pris'ner - of love...

[Nirvana]

Actually the name of that is HOW COULD YOU? and it was written by Jim Willis in 2001. Its the mantra of allot of animal rescue groups.

[monster]

This made me cry when I heard it read by the author at a publishing-day bookstore reading. The author is a kid from our school.

This is scanned from my copy of the book "The Star to Finish The Sky" edited by Scott Beal and published by Dzanc. The author is Maddy Hancock

[busterb]

Talk about bad timing.