To all pet-lovers :: SimplyScripts Screenwriting Discussion Board

Here's a little something that I found extremely sad, because it's true.

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 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 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 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'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, 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 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
> 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.
>
> ----------------------------
> A Note from the Author:
> ----------------------------
>
> If "How Could You?" brought tears to your eyes as
> you read it, as it did to mine as I wrote it, it is
> because it is the composite story of the millions of
> formerly "owned" pets who die each year in American
> and Canadian animal shelters. Anyone is welcome to
> distribute the essay for a noncommercial purpose, as
> long as it is properly attributed with the copyright
> notice. Please use it to help educate, on your
> websites, in newsletters, on animal shelter and vet
> office bulletin boards. Tell the public that the
> decision to add a pet to the family is an important
> one for life, that animals deserve our love and
> sensible care, that finding another appropriate home
> for your animal is your responsibility and any local
> humane society or animal welfare league can offer
> you good advice, and that all life is precious.
> Please do your part to stop the killing, and
> encourage all spay and neuter campaigns in order to
> prevent unwanted animals.
>
> Jim Willis