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¢§¡¥¥ï¥ó¤Îʪ¸ì ¡ØHow Could You...¡Ù by Jim Wills
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When I was a puppy, I entertained you with my antics and made you laugh.
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You called me your child, and despite a number of chewed shoes
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and a couple of murdered throw pillows, I became your best friend.
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Whenever I was "bad", you'd shake your finger at me
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and ask "How could you?"
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But then you'd relent, and roll me over for a belly rub.
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My housebreaking took a little longer than expected,
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because you were terribly busy, but we worked on that together.
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I remember those nights of nuzzling you in bed
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and listening to your confidences and secret dreams,
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and I believed that life could not be anymore perfect.
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We went for long walks and runs in the park, car rides, stops for icecream
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(I only got the cone because "ice cream is bad for dogs," you said),
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and I took long naps in the sun
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waiting for you to come home at the end of the day.
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Gradually, you began spending more time at work and on your career,
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and more time searching for a human mate.
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I waited for you patiently, comforted you through heartbreaks and disappointments,
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never chided you about bad decisions,
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and romped with glee at your homecomings,
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and when you fell in love.
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She, now your wife, is not a "dog person" still I welcomed her into our home,
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tried to show her affection, and obeyed her.
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I was happy because you were happy.
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Then the human babies came along and I shared your excitement.
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I was fascinated by their pinkness, how they smelled,
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and I wanted to mother them too.
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Only she and you worried that I might hurt them,
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and I spent most of my time banished to another room, or to a dog crate.
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Oh, how I wanted to love them, but I became a "prisoner of love".
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As they began to grow, I became their friend.
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They clung to my fur and pulled themselves up on wobbly legs,
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poked fingers in my eyes, investigated my ears, andgave me kisses on my nose.
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I loved everything about them and their touch--
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because your touch was now so infrequent--
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and I would have defended them with my life if need be.
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I would sneak into their beds and listen to
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their worries and secret dreams,
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and together we waited for the sound of your car in the driveway.
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There had been a time, when others asked you if you had a dog, that you produced
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a photo of me from your wallet and told them stories about me.
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These past few years, you just answered "yes" and changed the subject.
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I had gone from being "your dog" to "just a dog," and
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you resented every expenditure on my behalf.
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Now ,you have a new career opportunity in another city,
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and you and they will be moving to an apartment that does not allow pets.
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You've made the right decision for your "family, "
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but there was a time when I was your only family.
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I was excited about the car ride until we arrived at the animal shelter.
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It smelled of dogs and cats, of fear, of hopelessness.
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You filled out the paperwork and said "I know you will find a good home for her."
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They shrugged and gave you a pained look. They understood the realities
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facing a middle-aged dog, even one with "papers."
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You had to prise your son's fingers loose from my collar as he screamed
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"No Daddy! Please don't let them take my dog!"
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And I worried for him, and what lessons you had just taught him about friendship
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and loyalty, about love and responsibility, and about respect for all life.
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You gave me a good-bye pat on the head, avoided my eyes, and
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politely refused to take my collar and leash with you.
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You had a deadline to meet and now I have one, too.
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After you left, the two nice ladies said
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you probably knew about your upcoming move months ago and
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made no attempt to find me another good home.
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They shook their heads and asked "How could you?"
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They are as attentive to us here in the shelter as their busy schedules allow.
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They feed us, of course, but I lost my appetite days ago.
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At first, whenever anyone passed my pen, I rushed to the front,
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hoping it was you that you had changed your mind,
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-- that this was all a bad dream...
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or I hoped it would at least be someone who cared, anyone who might save me.
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When I realised I could not compete with the frolicking for attention of
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happy puppies, oblivious to their own fate. I retreated to a far corner and waited.
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I heard her footsteps as she came for me at the end of the day,
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and I padded along the aisle after her to a seperate room.
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A blissfully quiet room.
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she placed me on the table and rubbed my ears, and told me not to worry.
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My heart pounded in anticipation of what was to come,
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but there was also a sense of relief.
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The prisoner of love had run out of days.
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As is my nature, I was more concerned about her.
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The burden which she bears weighs heavily on her,
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and I know that, the same way I knew your every mood.
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She gently placed a tourniquet around my foreleg as a tear ran down her cheek.
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I licked her hand in the same way I used to comfort you so many years ago.
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She expertly slid the hypodermic needle into my vein.
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As I felt the sting and the cool liquid coursing through my body, I lay down
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sleepily, looked into her kind eyes and murmured "How could you?"
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Perhaps because she understood my dogspeak,
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she said "I'm so sorry."
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She hugged me, and hurriedly explained that it was her job to make sure I went to
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a better place, where I wouldn't be ignored or abused or abandoned,
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or have to fend for myself
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-- a place of love and light
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so very different from this earthly place.
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And with my last bit of energy, I tried to convey to her with a thump of my tail that
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my "How could you?" was not directed at her.
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It was you, My Beloved Master,
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I was thinking of. I will think of you
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and wait for you forever.
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May everyone in your life continue to show you so much loyalty.
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THE END
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