Before buying a Puppy read this please...

[AttilaVikingsDemon]

Hi everyone, I have something rather somber to post, which I normally don't however upon coming across this, I had to share with everyone to read and hopefully it will catch someone just right who should read it and help a pup avoid becoming an adolescent or dog like this one in this very sad tale which I did not write but thought it worth showing to you. Not that I think anyone on here is a bad person and would do this, but we do have people of every sort that visit and even the fictional people in this story would not have imagined themselves in this predicament, so here it is everyone. This sure is going to make me hug my special beautiful baby extra close and never let go and cradle his head and assure him this will never occur to him no matter what!!

Do I Go Home Today?

by Sandi Thomas*

///<~>\\\<~>///<~>\\\<~>///<~>\\\<~>///<~>\\\<~>///

My family brought me home cradled in their arms.

They cuddled me and smiled at me and said I was full of charm.

They played with me and laughed with me and showered me with toys.

I sure do love my family, especially the little girls and boys.

<~>

The children loved to feed me; they gave me special treats.

They even let me sleep with them - all snuggled in the sheets.

I used to go for walks, often several times a day.

They even fought to hold the leash, I'm very proud to say!

<~>

These are the things I'll not forget - a cherished memory.

I now live in the shelter - without my family.

They used to laugh and praise me when I played with that old shoe.

But I didn't know the difference between the old one and the new.

<~>

The kids and I would grab a rug, for hours we would tug.

So I thought I did the right thing when I chewed the bedroom rug.

They said I was out of control and would have to live outside.

This I didn't understand, although I tried and tried!

<~>

The walks stopped, one by one; they said they hadn't the time.

I wish that I could change things; I wish I knew my crime.

My life became so lonely in the backyard, on a chain.

I barked and barked all day long to keep from going insane.

<~>

So they brought me to the shelter but were embarrassed to say why.

They said I caused an allergy, and then they each kissed me goodbye.

If I'd only had some training as a little pup.

I wouldn't have been so hard to handle when I was all grown up.

<~>

"You only have one day left", I heard a worker say.

Does that mean I have a second chance?

Do I go home today?

///<~>\\\<~>///<~>\\\<~>///<~>\\\<~>///<~>\\\<~>///

I have been told that the author of this piece is Sandi Thomas (1991). If you do, please email me at so that I may give them the proper credit here for their work.

[Elyse]

[mydiamond]

I gotta admit my jaw dropped when I read this line--> I now live in the shelter - without my family.

[Rosemary]

Breaks my heart

[lovemysiberian]

That is so sad and definetly hits home

[SA DA KA]

Hi everyone, I have something rather somber to post, which I normally don't however upon coming across this, I had to share with everyone to read and hopefully it will catch someone just right who should read it and help a pup avoid becoming an adolescent or dog like this one in this very sad tale which I did not write but thought it worth showing to you. Not that I think anyone on here is a bad person and would do this, but we do have people of every sort that visit and even the fictional people in this story would not have imagined themselves in this predicament, so here it is everyone. This sure is going to make me hug my special beautiful baby extra close and never let go and cradle his head and assure him this will never occur to him no matter what!!

Do I Go Home Today?

by Sandi Thomas*

///<~>\\\<~>///<~>\\\<~>///<~>\\\<~>///<~>\\\<~>///

My family brought me home cradled in their arms.

They cuddled me and smiled at me and said I was full of charm.

They played with me and laughed with me and showered me with toys.

I sure do love my family, especially the little girls and boys.

<~>

The children loved to feed me; they gave me special treats.

They even let me sleep with them - all snuggled in the sheets.

I used to go for walks, often several times a day.

They even fought to hold the leash, I'm very proud to say!

<~>

These are the things I'll not forget - a cherished memory.

I now live in the shelter - without my family.

They used to laugh and praise me when I played with that old shoe.

But I didn't know the difference between the old one and the new.

<~>

The kids and I would grab a rug, for hours we would tug.

So I thought I did the right thing when I chewed the bedroom rug.

They said I was out of control and would have to live outside.

This I didn't understand, although I tried and tried!

<~>

The walks stopped, one by one; they said they hadn't the time.

I wish that I could change things; I wish I knew my crime.

My life became so lonely in the backyard, on a chain.

I barked and barked all day long to keep from going insane.

<~>

So they brought me to the shelter but were embarrassed to say why.

They said I caused an allergy, and then they each kissed me goodbye.

If I'd only had some training as a little pup.

I wouldn't have been so hard to handle when I was all grown up.

<~>

"You only have one day left", I heard a worker say.

Does that mean I have a second chance?

Do I go home today?

///<~>\\\<~>///<~>\\\<~>///<~>\\\<~>///<~>\\\<~>///

I have been told that the author of this piece is Sandi Thomas (1991). If you do, please email me at so that I may give them the proper credit here for their work.

Do I Go Home Today: This is a wonderful piece. We read this a while back and it touched our hearts. No dog should ever have to experience what this piece states. Thanks for sharing it.

[basketcase687]

So sad but so true.

I have thought about posting this in the past,so now seems an appropriate time,it is quite similar and always makes me tearful.It serves as a warning to all of us ,especially when considering buying a puppy.

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 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 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 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 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 dog speak, 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 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.

[SA DA KA]

So sad but so true.

I have thought about posting this in the past,so now seems an appropriate time,it is quite similar and always makes me tearful.It serves as a warning to all of us ,especially when considering buying a puppy.

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 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 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 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 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 dog speak, 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 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.

THANK YOU FOR SHARING THIS, IT TOUCHED OUR HEARTS

[Kimmy_87]

Aww this is so sad made me cry so glad I got Marley from a rescue home n not as a puppy

So sad but so true.

I have thought about posting this in the past,so now seems an appropriate time,it is quite similar and always makes me tearful.It serves as a warning to all of us ,especially when considering buying a puppy.

Aww that made me cry so sad So glad I got Marley from a rescue home then buying a puppy

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 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 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 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 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 dog speak, 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 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.

[basketcase687]

Thank you ,most welcome.

I know from personal experience that even I have to admit I can relate to this to a certain extent.Many years ago I had 2 collies who were my original babies.When my children came along they had to take a back seat,and if I'm honest they didn't get as much attention as they had before.I would never have re homed them,and they both lived long lives with us until they passed away ,at the ripe old ages of 15 and 16.

Life changes for people all the time,but when we make a commitment to own a dog,it has to be for life.

[Piercy]

certainly pulled on my heart strings

[AttilaVikingsDemon]

So sad but so true.

I have thought about posting this in the past,so now seems an appropriate time,it is quite similar and always makes me tearful.It serves as a warning to all of us ,especially when considering buying a puppy.

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 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 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 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 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 dog speak, 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 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.

I sadly recall reading this story you posted before as well called "How Could you" terribly sad and I think they should have these posted where people buy puppies from-or cats, to instill in their heads that this is a lifelong commitment, not just when its not convenient anymore, or becomes a bother:(

[basketcase687]

I sadly recall reading this story you posted before as well called "How Could you" terribly sad and I think they should have these posted where people buy puppies from-or cats, to instill in their heads that this is a lifelong commitment, not just when its not convenient anymore, or becomes a bother:(

Yes definitely.Out of morbid curiosity,I just spent 10 mins on a website called 'Preloved'.I was looking at all the adverts for huskies for sale.The excuses are priceless,eg,at 13 wks old she is now too big,we have a 2 yr old,and my husband works long hours etc,etc.Must have seen 10 young huskies or more for sale.What were these idiots thinking of when they bought them.Have to blame the breeders too ,to a degree.It's a sad world we live in.

[Elyse]

at the 2nd 'story' too...

I'm so glad I got Suka from the shelter, there were so many little kids staring at him and young families staring at him. He probably would have been brought back a lot of times if I didn't snatch him up!

[Storm Angel n Auroras Mum]

both poems made me cry

[mydiamond]

the second piece literally broke my heart :cry1:

[jessiezara90]

have just cried my way through both poems

[Austinville]

Honesty hurts.........too bad those who really need to read these won't................

[Nick Tillman]

So sad but so true.

I have thought about posting this in the past,so now seems an appropriate time,it is quite similar and always makes me tearful.It serves as a warning to all of us ,especially when considering buying a puppy.

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 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 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 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 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 dog speak, 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 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.

Wow... That was powerful. It got me a bit teary eyed, and I'm an 18 year old male! Made me want to go give my dog a hug.

[Nick Tillman]

Hi everyone, I have something rather somber to post, which I normally don't however upon coming across this, I had to share with everyone to read and hopefully it will catch someone just right who should read it and help a pup avoid becoming an adolescent or dog like this one in this very sad tale which I did not write but thought it worth showing to you. Not that I think anyone on here is a bad person and would do this, but we do have people of every sort that visit and even the fictional people in this story would not have imagined themselves in this predicament, so here it is everyone. This sure is going to make me hug my special beautiful baby extra close and never let go and cradle his head and assure him this will never occur to him no matter what!!

Do I Go Home Today?

by Sandi Thomas*

///<~>\\\<~>///<~>\\\<~>///<~>\\\<~>///<~>\\\<~>///

My family brought me home cradled in their arms.

They cuddled me and smiled at me and said I was full of charm.

They played with me and laughed with me and showered me with toys.

I sure do love my family, especially the little girls and boys.

<~>

The children loved to feed me; they gave me special treats.

They even let me sleep with them - all snuggled in the sheets.

I used to go for walks, often several times a day.

They even fought to hold the leash, I'm very proud to say!

<~>

These are the things I'll not forget - a cherished memory.

I now live in the shelter - without my family.

They used to laugh and praise me when I played with that old shoe.

But I didn't know the difference between the old one and the new.

<~>

The kids and I would grab a rug, for hours we would tug.

So I thought I did the right thing when I chewed the bedroom rug.

They said I was out of control and would have to live outside.

This I didn't understand, although I tried and tried!

<~>

The walks stopped, one by one; they said they hadn't the time.

I wish that I could change things; I wish I knew my crime.

My life became so lonely in the backyard, on a chain.

I barked and barked all day long to keep from going insane.

<~>

So they brought me to the shelter but were embarrassed to say why.

They said I caused an allergy, and then they each kissed me goodbye.

If I'd only had some training as a little pup.

I wouldn't have been so hard to handle when I was all grown up.

<~>

"You only have one day left", I heard a worker say.

Does that mean I have a second chance?

Do I go home today?

///<~>\\\<~>///<~>\\\<~>///<~>\\\<~>///<~>\\\<~>///

I have been told that the author of this piece is Sandi Thomas (1991). If you do, please email me at so that I may give them the proper credit here for their work.

Wow, both poems I read. The sad but true reality of Unfitting parents and owners these days.

[stormchaser09]

Yes definitely.Out of morbid curiosity,I just spent 10 mins on a website called 'Preloved'.I was looking at all the adverts for huskies for sale.The excuses are priceless,eg,at 13 wks old she is now too big,we have a 2 yr old,and my husband works long hours etc,etc.Must have seen 10 young huskies or more for sale.What were these idiots thinking of when they bought them.Have to blame the breeders too ,to a degree.It's a sad world we live in.

one of my favourite excuses is" we are emigrating and can't take our 9/10 week old puppy with us" excuse me but don't these type of moves take months to organise, why buy a puppy weeks/days before you move. I just don't get it.