To My Dear by Anonymous
To My Dear by Anonymous
translated from Norwegian by bergann
Source: www.canis.no
As a puppy I entertained you with my antics and made you laugh. You called me your child, and even though there were a great deal of chewed shoes and ruined pillows, I became your best friend. When I had been 'naughty,' you told me with a pointed finger, 'How could you do that?", but then you would let it go and scratch my stomach.
It took longer than expected for me to become housetrained, because you were so terribly busy, but we worked on it together. I remember nights in the bed, where I'd press my nose against you and listen to your confessions and deepest thoughts, and I was convinced that life could not be better. We took long walks and ran in the park, drove cars and stopped to eat ice cream (I only got the cone, because "ice cream is bad for dogs," you said) and I took long naps in the sun, while I waited for you to come home late in the evening.
Bit by bit you started to spend more time on your work and your career and more time to look after a humanfriend. I waited patiently for you, comforted your heartaches and disappointments, never yelled at you for bad judgment, but frolicked with joy when you came home and when you fell in love.
She, who is now your wife, is not a 'dog person' -- but even so I welcomed her into our home, tried to show her affection and listened to her. I was happy, because you were happy.
Then the humanbabies came, and I shared in your excitement. I was immersed by the small pinkish creatures and their smell, and I wanted so badly to take care of them too. But both you and her were afraid I'd hurt them somehow, and I spent most of my time exiled to another room or a dog cage. Oh, how I still longed to love them, but I quickly became a 'love slave'.
After they had grown up, I became their friend. They clung to my coat and dragged themselves on shaky legs, they put their fingers in my eyes, examined my ears and kissed me on the nose. I loved everything about them and their signs of love -- because yours were now so rare -- and I would have defended them with my life if necessary. I used to sneak into their bed and listen to their confessions and deepest thoughts, and together we waited for the sound of your car in the driveway.
There had been a time, where you -- if someone asked you if had a dog -- would take a picture of me out of your wallet and tell them stories about me. Through the years, you have only answered 'yes' and changed the topic. I have gone from being 'your dog' to 'just a dog' and you did not care to have expenses when it came to me.
Now you've gotten a job offer in a different city, and you and the family are moving to an apartment, where there are no pets allowed. You have made the right choice for your 'family', but there was a time where I was the only family you had. I was ecstatic over the drive, until we reached the pound. Here it smelled like dogs and cats, of fear and hopelessness. You filled out the papers and said "I knew you will find a good home for her". They shrugged their shoulders and looked at me with embarrassment. They knew the reality for a middle-aged dog, even one with 'papers'. You had to pry your son's fingers off my collar, while he screamed "No, daddy! You can't let them take my dog!" And I became worried about him and about what you just taught him about friendship and loyalty, about love and responsibility and about respect for all living things. You petted me on the head as a goodbye, avoided my eyes and politely declined the offer to take my collar and leash with you. You had a deadline you had to reach, and now so did I. When you were gone, the two kind ladies said that you'd probably known about my impending relocation for months beforehand, but hadn't made an attempt to find me a good home. They shook their heads and said, "How could you do that?"
They are as attentive here at the pound as their busy days allow them to be. They feed us, of course, but I lost my appetite days ago.
In the beginning, when someone walked past my enclosure, I would run to the fence in the hope that it was you -- that you had changed your mind -- that it was all just a bad dream... or I hoped that at least it would be someone who cared about me, someone who wanted to save me. When I realized that I could not compete with the happy puppies that -- unknowing of their own fate -- capered for attention, I retreated to a distant corner and waited.
I heard her steps when she came for me at the end of the day, and I padded after her through the hall into another room. A very quiet room. She put me on a table and scratched my ears and told me not to be scared. My heart thumped in apprehension for it, for what was about to happen, but there was also a feeling of relief.
The love slave's days were numbered. As is my nature, I was worried about her. The burden she bears weighs heavily on her, and I know that the same way I always knew how you were feeling.
Carefully she put a blood pressure cuff around my front paw while a tear trickled down her cheek.
I licked her hand the same way I used to comfort you so many years ago.
Professionally she sunk the needle into my vein.
When I noticed the prick and the cool liquid flowing through my body, I sleepily lied down, looked into her friendly eyes and mumbles, "How could you do that?"
Perhaps she understood my dog language, because she said, "I'm sorry."
She hugged me and told me it was her job to make sure I went to a better place, where I wouldn't be forgotten or mistreated or abandoned or left to my own devices -- a place with love and hope so very different from this earthly place.
With a last show of strength I tried with a thump of my tail to express that my "How could you do that?" 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 show you just as much loyalty.
This story is meant as a warning for everyone who considers buying a dog. You have responsibility over a life.
translated from Norwegian by bergann
Source: www.canis.no
As a puppy I entertained you with my antics and made you laugh. You called me your child, and even though there were a great deal of chewed shoes and ruined pillows, I became your best friend. When I had been 'naughty,' you told me with a pointed finger, 'How could you do that?", but then you would let it go and scratch my stomach.
It took longer than expected for me to become housetrained, because you were so terribly busy, but we worked on it together. I remember nights in the bed, where I'd press my nose against you and listen to your confessions and deepest thoughts, and I was convinced that life could not be better. We took long walks and ran in the park, drove cars and stopped to eat ice cream (I only got the cone, because "ice cream is bad for dogs," you said) and I took long naps in the sun, while I waited for you to come home late in the evening.
Bit by bit you started to spend more time on your work and your career and more time to look after a humanfriend. I waited patiently for you, comforted your heartaches and disappointments, never yelled at you for bad judgment, but frolicked with joy when you came home and when you fell in love.
She, who is now your wife, is not a 'dog person' -- but even so I welcomed her into our home, tried to show her affection and listened to her. I was happy, because you were happy.
Then the humanbabies came, and I shared in your excitement. I was immersed by the small pinkish creatures and their smell, and I wanted so badly to take care of them too. But both you and her were afraid I'd hurt them somehow, and I spent most of my time exiled to another room or a dog cage. Oh, how I still longed to love them, but I quickly became a 'love slave'.
After they had grown up, I became their friend. They clung to my coat and dragged themselves on shaky legs, they put their fingers in my eyes, examined my ears and kissed me on the nose. I loved everything about them and their signs of love -- because yours were now so rare -- and I would have defended them with my life if necessary. I used to sneak into their bed and listen to their confessions and deepest thoughts, and together we waited for the sound of your car in the driveway.
There had been a time, where you -- if someone asked you if had a dog -- would take a picture of me out of your wallet and tell them stories about me. Through the years, you have only answered 'yes' and changed the topic. I have gone from being 'your dog' to 'just a dog' and you did not care to have expenses when it came to me.
Now you've gotten a job offer in a different city, and you and the family are moving to an apartment, where there are no pets allowed. You have made the right choice for your 'family', but there was a time where I was the only family you had. I was ecstatic over the drive, until we reached the pound. Here it smelled like dogs and cats, of fear and hopelessness. You filled out the papers and said "I knew you will find a good home for her". They shrugged their shoulders and looked at me with embarrassment. They knew the reality for a middle-aged dog, even one with 'papers'. You had to pry your son's fingers off my collar, while he screamed "No, daddy! You can't let them take my dog!" And I became worried about him and about what you just taught him about friendship and loyalty, about love and responsibility and about respect for all living things. You petted me on the head as a goodbye, avoided my eyes and politely declined the offer to take my collar and leash with you. You had a deadline you had to reach, and now so did I. When you were gone, the two kind ladies said that you'd probably known about my impending relocation for months beforehand, but hadn't made an attempt to find me a good home. They shook their heads and said, "How could you do that?"
They are as attentive here at the pound as their busy days allow them to be. They feed us, of course, but I lost my appetite days ago.
In the beginning, when someone walked past my enclosure, I would run to the fence in the hope that it was you -- that you had changed your mind -- that it was all just a bad dream... or I hoped that at least it would be someone who cared about me, someone who wanted to save me. When I realized that I could not compete with the happy puppies that -- unknowing of their own fate -- capered for attention, I retreated to a distant corner and waited.
I heard her steps when she came for me at the end of the day, and I padded after her through the hall into another room. A very quiet room. She put me on a table and scratched my ears and told me not to be scared. My heart thumped in apprehension for it, for what was about to happen, but there was also a feeling of relief.
The love slave's days were numbered. As is my nature, I was worried about her. The burden she bears weighs heavily on her, and I know that the same way I always knew how you were feeling.
Carefully she put a blood pressure cuff around my front paw while a tear trickled down her cheek.
I licked her hand the same way I used to comfort you so many years ago.
Professionally she sunk the needle into my vein.
When I noticed the prick and the cool liquid flowing through my body, I sleepily lied down, looked into her friendly eyes and mumbles, "How could you do that?"
Perhaps she understood my dog language, because she said, "I'm sorry."
She hugged me and told me it was her job to make sure I went to a better place, where I wouldn't be forgotten or mistreated or abandoned or left to my own devices -- a place with love and hope so very different from this earthly place.
With a last show of strength I tried with a thump of my tail to express that my "How could you do that?" 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 show you just as much loyalty.
This story is meant as a warning for everyone who considers buying a dog. You have responsibility over a life.