A Dog's Purpose - from a 6-year-old
Being a veterinarian, I had been called to examine a ten-year-old Irish
Wolfhound named Belker. The dog's owners, Ron, his wife, Lisa, and
their little boy, Shane, were all very attached to Belker and they were
hoping for a miracle.
I examined Belker and found he was dying. I told the family we couldn't
do anything for Belker and offered to perform the euthanasia procedure
for the old dog in their home.
As we made arrangements, Ron and Lisa told me they thought it would be
good for six-year-old Shane to ob serve the procedure. They felt as
though Shane might learn something from the experience.
The next day, I felt the familiar catch in my throat as Belker's family
surrounded him. Shane seemed so calm, petting the old dog for the last
time, that I wondered if he understood w hat was going on. Within a few
minutes, Belker slipped peacefully away.
The little boy seemed to accept Belker's transition without any
difficulty or confusion. We sat together for a while after Belker's
death, wondering aloud about the sad fact that anima l lives are shorter
than human lives. Shane, who had been listening quietly, piped up, "I
Startled, we all turned to him. What came out of his mouth next stunned
me. I'd never heard a more comforting explanation.
He said, "People are born so that they can learn how to live a good life
-- like loving everybody all the time and being nice, right?" The
six-year-old continued, "Well, dogs already know how to do that, so they
don't have to stay as long."
The Reason - Author Unknown
I would've died that day if not for you. I would've given up on
life if not for your kind eyes. I would've used my teeth in fear if not
for your gentle hands. I would have left this life believing that all
humans don't care. Believing that there is no such thing as fur that isn't
matted; Skin that isn't flea bitten; Good food and enough of it; Beds to
sleep on; Someone to love me; To show me that I deserve love, just
because I exist. Your kind eyes, your living smile, your gentle hands,
your big heart saved me... You saved me from the terror of the pound,
Soothing away memories of my old life. You have taught me what it means
to be loved. I have seen you do the same for other dogs like me. I
have heard you ask yourself, in times of despair, why you do it. When there
is no more money, no more room, no more homes, You open your heart a
little bigger, stretch the money a little tighter, make just a little more
room...to save one more like me. I tell you with the gratitude
and love that shines in my eyes, in the best way I know how, Reminding
you why you go on trying. I am the reason; the dogs and cats before me were
the reason; As are the ones who come after. Our lives would've been wasted, Our
love never given, We would die if not for you!
*Prevent the leading cause of death for dogs and cats --
overpopulation. Spay and neuter pets and strays you encounter, and
encourage everyone to do the same!*
Heaven's Pets - Author Unknown
A man and his dog were walking along a road. The man was
enjoying the scenery, when it suddenly occurred to him that
he was dead. He remembered dying, and that the dog walking
beside him had been dead for years. He wondered where the
road was leading them.
After a while, they came to a high, white stone wall along one
side of the road. It looked like fine marble. At the top of
a long hill, it was broken by a tall arch that glowed in the
sunlight. When he was standing before it he saw a magnificent
gate in the arch that looked like mother-of-pearl, and the
street that led to the gate looked like pure gold. He and the
dog walked toward the gate, and as he got closer, he saw a
man at a desk to one side. When he was close enough, he
called out, "Excuse me, where are we?"
"This is Heaven, sir," the man answered.
"Wow! Would you happen to have some water?" the man asked.
"Of course, sir. Come right in, and I'll have some ice water
brought right up." The man gestured, and the gate began to open.
"Can my friend," gesturing toward his dog, "come in, too?" the
"I'm sorry, sir, but we don't accept pets."
The man thought a moment and then turned back toward the road
and continued the way he had been going with his dog. After
another long walk, and at the top of another long hill, he
came to a dirt road leading through a farm gate that looked
as if it had never been closed. There was no fence. As he
approached the gate, he saw a man inside, leaning against a
tree and reading a book.
"Excuse me!" he called to the man. "Do you have any water?"
"Yeah, sure, there's a pump over there, come on in."
"How about my friend here?" the traveler gestured to the dog.
"There should be a bowl by the pump."
They went through the gate, and sure enough, there was an
old-fashioned hand pump with a bowl beside it. The
traveler filled the water bowl and took a long drink himself,
then he gave some to the dog. When they were full, he and
the dog walked back toward the man who was standing by the tree.
"What do you call this place?" the traveler asked.
"This is Heaven," he answered.
"Well, that's confusing," the traveler said. "The man down the
road said that was Heaven, too."
"Oh, you mean the place with the gold street and pearly gates?
Nope. That's hell."
"Doesn't it make you mad for them to use your name like that?"
"No, we're just happy that they screen out the folks who would
leave their best friends behind."
Letter from a rescue or shelter worker - Author Unknown
Dear Mr. and Mrs. Average Pet Owner:
Thank you for contacting us animal rescuers, shelter volunteers, and
foster-homes about your inability to keep your pet. We receive an
extremely high volume of inquiries and requests to accept surrendered
animals (and none of us is getting paid, OK?). To help us expedite your
problem as quickly as possible, please observe the following guidelines:
Do not say that you are "CONSIDERING finding a good home" for your pet,
or that you, "feel you MIGHT be forced to," or that you "really THINK it
would be better if" you unloaded the poor beast. Ninety-five percent of you
have already got your minds stone-cold made up that the animal WILL be
out of your life by the weekend at the latest. Say so. If you don't, I'm going to
waste a lot of time giving you common-sense, easy solutions for very
fixable problems, and you're going to waste a lot of time coming up with fanciful
reasons why the solution couldn't possibly work for you. For instance, you
say the cat claws the furniture, and I tell you about nail-clipping and
scratching posts and aversion training, and then you go into a long
harangue about how your husband won't let you put a scratching post in the family
room, and your ADHD daughter cries if you use a squirt bottle on the
cat, and your congenital thumb abnormalities prevent you from using nail scissors
and etc., etc. Just say you're getting rid of the cat.
Do not waste time trying to convince me how nice and humane you are.
Your coworker recommended that you contact me because I am nice to animals,
not because I am nice to people, and I don't like people who "get rid of"
their animals. "Get rid of" is my least favorite phrase in any language. I
hope someone "gets rid of" YOU someday. I am an animal advocate, not a
people therapist. After all, for your ADHD daughter, you can get counselors,
special teachers, doctors, social workers, etc. Your pet has only me, and people
like me, to turn to in his or her need, and we are unpaid, overworked,
stressed-out, and demoralized. So don't tell me this big long story about
how, "We love this dog so much, and we even bought him a special bed that
cost $50, and it is just KILLING us to part with him, but honestly, our
maid is just awash in dog hair every time she cleans, and his breath sometimes
just reeks of liver, so you can see how hard we've tried, and how dear
he is to us, but we really just can't . .. ." You are not nice, and it is not
killing you. It is, in all probability, literally killing your dog, but
you're going to be just fine once the beast is out of your sight. Don't waste
my time trying to make me like you or feel sorry for you in your plight.
Do not try to convince me that your pet is exceptional and deserves
special treatment. I don't care if you taught him to sit. I don't care if
she's a beautiful Persian. I have a waiting list of battered and/or
whacked-out animals who need help, and I have no room to foster-house your
pet. Do not send me long messages detailing how Fido just l-o-v-e-s
blankies and carries his favorite blankie everywhere, and oh, when he gets all
excited and happy, he spins around in circles, isn't that cute? He really is
darling, so it wouldn't be any trouble at all for us to find him a good home.
Listen, we can go down to the pound and count the darling, spinning, blankie-loving
beasts on death row by the dozens, any day of the week. And, honey, Fido
is a six-year-old Shepherd-Lab mix. I am not lying when I tell you that big,
older, mixed-breed, garden-variety dogs are almost completely unadoptable,
and I don't care if they can whistle Dixie or send semaphore signals with
their blankies. What you don't realize is that, though you're trying to lie to me,
you're actually telling the truth: Your pet is a special, wonderful, amazing
creature. But this mean old world does not care. More importantly, YOU do not care,
and I can't fix that problem. All I can do is grieve for all the exceptional
animals who live short, brutal, loveless lives and die without anyone ever
recognizing that they were indeed very, very special.
Finally, just, for God's sake, for the animal's sake, tell the
truth, and the whole truth. Do you think that if you just mumble that your cat is
"high-strung," I will say, "Okey-dokey! No prob!" and take it into foster
care? No, I will start a asking questions and uncover the truth, which is
that your cat has not used a litter box in the last six months. Do not tell
me that you "can't" crate your dog. I will ask what happens when you try to
crate him, and you will either be forced to tell me the symptoms of
full-blown, severe separation anxiety, or else you will resort to lying
some more, wasting more of our time.
And, if you succeed in placing your pet in a shelter or foster care, do not
tell yourself the biggest lie of all: "Those nice people will take him and
find him a good home, and everything will be fine." Those nice people will
indeed give the animal every possible chance, but if we discover serious
health or behavior problems, if we find that your misguided attempts to
train or discipline him have driven him over the edge, we will do what you are too immoral and
cowardly to do: We will hold the animal in our arms, telling him truthfully
that he is a good dog or cat, telling him truthfully that we are sorry
and we love him, while the vet ends his life. How can we be so heartless as to
kill your pet, you ask? Do not ever dare to judge us.
At least we tried. At least we stuck with him to the end. At least we
never abandoned him to strangers, as you certainly did, didn't you? In
short, this little old rescuer/foster momma has reached the point where she
would prefer you pet owners to tell her stories like this:
"We went to Wal-Mart and picked up a free pet in the parking lot a couple
of years ago. Now we don't want it anymore. We're lazier than we thought.
We've got no patience either. We're starting to suspect the animal is
really smarter than we are, which is giving us self-esteem issues. Clearly, we
can't possibly keep it. Plus, it might be getting sick; it's acting kind of funny.
"We would like you to take it in eagerly, enthusiastically, and
immediately. We hope you'll realize what a deal you're getting and not ask us for a
donation to help defray your costs. After all, this is an (almost)
pure-bred animal, and we'll send the leftover food along with it. We get it at
Wal-Mart too, and boy, it's a really good deal, price-wise.
"We are very irritated that you haven't shown pity on us in our great need
and picked the animal up already. We thought you people were supposed to be
humane! Come and get it today. No, we couldn't possibly bring it to you;
the final episode of "Survivor II" is on tonight."
Thank you, Mr. and Mrs. Pet Owner, for your cooperation.