How Could You?

When I was little, 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.

From my own appearance, he doesn't look me that way.

Short in terms of height with the big jolted eyes like a bulb,

flatten nose like a top view of two mountains,

un-syncronized teeth, silky hairy hands and legs,

big feet. He ignored it. He thought I'm cute.

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.

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 confindences

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 you,"

you said)

But you covered me with a big robe,

("You might get hurt," you said)

and

I hold your hand for substitute in seeing the way.

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 normal human mate.

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 "monster person" - still

I welcomed her into our home,

tried to show her affection, and obeyed her.

She onced hit me but convinced by you,

she accepted me.

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 cage.

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.

Some declared that you were crazy,

some laughed at me.

I'm sorry for that.

These past few years,

you just answered "yes" and

changed the subject.

I had gone from being "your one" to "just one"

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.

Again, I declared as a pet.

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 him."

They shrugged and gave you a pained look.

You told about my stories

to the human in blue clothes with a paw logo on it.

She seems to accept it.

They understand the realities

facing a middle-aged of me, 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 friend!

My only friend, Onew!"

And I worried for him, and what lessons

you had just taught him about friendship and loyalty,

about love and responsibility,

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