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When
you
adopt
an
animal,
you
accept
the
responsibility
to
care
for
him/her.
This
animal
is
a
living,
loving,
feeling
being
—
not
a
possession
to
be
used
and
tossed
away
when
the
novelty
wears
off.
Think
before
you
adopt
an
animal
and
remember
this
story
if
you're
considering
getting
rid
of
your
pet.
How
Could
You?
By
Jim
Willis,
2001
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
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
belly
rub
because
you
knew
I
was
just
being
a
dog.
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.
We
went
for
long
walks
and
runs
in
the
park,
car
rides,
and
I
took
long
naps
in
the
sun
waiting
for
you
to
come
home
at
the
end
of
the
day.
Life
could
not
be
any
more
perfect.
Gradually,
you
began
spending
more
time
at
work,
on
your
career,
and
searching
for
a
human
mate.
I
waited
for
you
patiently,
comforted
you
through
heartbreaks
and
disappointments,
never
chided
you
about
bad
decisions,
romped
with
glee
at
your
homecomings
and
when
you
fell
in
love.
Now
you
have
a
wife,
but
she
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
so
I
spent
most
of
my
time
banished
to
another
room
or
to
a
dog
crate.
Oh,
how
I
wanted
to
love
them,
but,
instead,
I
became
a
prisoner
of
love.
As
your
children
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.
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.
You,
your
wife
and
children
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.
Why
didn't
you
find
an
apartment
which
allowed
dogs
—
like
you
did
before?
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.
What
lesson
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
he?"
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.
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
cute
little
puppies
for
attention,
I
retreated
to
a
far
corner
and
waited.
Just
a
few
short
days
later,
she
came
for
me
at
the
end
of
the
day.
I
padded
along
the
aisle
after
her
to
another
room
—
an
erily
quiet
room.
She
placed
me
on
the
table,
rubbed
my
ears,
and
told
me
not
to
worry.
My
heart
pounded
in
anticipation
of
what
was
to
come.
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,
thought
of
you,
and
murmured
"How
could
you?"
My
Beloved
Master,
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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