Deep thoughts, Art, Why people for the most part are so lost, How
can i make my friends days better, My back pain, Wishing that my
back would let me do what i want which is clean this house,my
friends and wondering if they are ok.
Someone asked me this:so i answered them Whats your philosophy on
life? Allow everyone the freedom to express themselves in any way
they want. Whatever religion you happen to be,enjoy it, but don't
preach to me that i should change, i want people to STOP being
scared of what they dont understand and then do nothing to find out
more about it. Read more books, experience things you normally do
,just to do it. Understand that life is short and once you realize
this you may learn to treasure the little moments in life more.
Help people that want to help themselves. Listen to music that
inspires you that makes you feel good. That expresses a deep
emotion. Dance, be free just for a couple of minutes a day if that
is all the time you have. Love something a plant, a cat, a dog, a
person, but love something. Know this and spread love around. Give
random hugs, send cute messages to friends. Give or yourself
more.
Also Anyone who owns a pet, or is thinking about getting a pet
should read this.
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 anymore 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 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. 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 understood the realities facing a
middle-aged dog, even one with "papers." You had to prise 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 realised 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 seperate 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 that 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 you, My Beloved Master, I was thinking of. I will think of
you and wait for you forever.
May everyone in your life continue to show you so much
loyalty.
THE END.
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If you are thinking of moving to a new place that doesn't allow
pets, you can't move move there. You have made a promise to the
animal that you have bought, to take care of it for the rest of its
days. My ex-wife decided that our ferret was worth $75, should
something go wrong with it. She is my ex-wife. I recently spent
$2,500 on my ferret to have a tumour removed from her adrenal
gland, and I would do it again. Love is the only thing that makes
this life worth living. Money is just not that important.
If your fiance is allergic to your pet, get a new fiance.
If you have had your dog put down because it bit your child, you
did not raise your dog properly. Have yourself and your progeny
euthanized too, and do the human race a favor.