I saw you
abandon and try to kill your best friend yesterday. I was sitting on my front
porch when you pulled up to the tennis courts and parked under the big oak
tree.
I watched
as you opened the door, got out and let your best friend get out of the car. He
was dancing around your feet with joy at the idea of a run in the park with
you.
You let him
run over to the softball field, then jumped back in your car and sped off. Your
best friend looked after you in consternation, then chased you as far and as
fast as his little legs would go. You almost wrecked your car pulling out into
traffic. The next car to turn into the park as he stood there and stared after
you almost killed your best friend.
I thought
you should know that the little dog you abandoned went back to the big oak
tree, there he stayed for the rest of the day. When he first went back to the
tree, he sat down, threw his head back and howled his grief, anguish and fear
to the heavens, then he settled down, and loyal to a fault, waited for you to
return. You never did. You never intended to return to the little animal that
had given you his heart, his soul and his loyalty.
Animal
Control was called, but never came. Your dog waited there for you through
thunderstorms and pouring rain. He never went more than 100 feet from where you
left him. Never sought shelter and would not approach anyone, rather he ran
from them and made it clear he intended to wait for you.
I fed him
twice, once before I went to work, once when I returned. He would not come to
me. One child was able to pet your best friend. He went home to see if he could
keep your dog and was told he could bring him home long enough for Animal Control
to come get him.
I wasn't
satisfied with that answer, so, I took your best friend in. I have seen abused
animals before, but he was terrified. He cringed at any sudden movement or loud
voice. His expressive eyes told the whole story - desperately afraid, yet so
very hopeful that maybe, just maybe, this time he wouldn't get hurt.
I stayed
home from work today. Your former best friend and I took a trip to my vet. He
was so scared, his little heart pounding. Afraid he was going to be abandoned
again.
As I
expected, he was full of parasites, hook, round and pin worms. He has now had
all his shots and is scheduled for surgery next week. The day I take him in for
surgery, I will license him. I hope he doesn't have heartworms, but if he does,
I'll see that he is treated for those as well.
If you
should ever see this letter, be warned. If you show your face or vehicle around
my home, your license tag number will be noted and I will take a warrant for
your arrest for Cruelty to Animals. Should I get the chance to do this, I will
push for you to receive the maximum punishment that the law allows.
The Bible
says that man was given dominion over the earth and the animals thereupon. If
you look up the word dominion, it means stewardship. Stewardship means that man
is the caretaker appointed to care for The Master's property until The Master
returns. Your brand of "stewardship" is unacceptable.
The Native
Americans have a legend that says that when a person dies, before he or she is
admitted into Heaven; they are judged by the animals they knew here on earth. If
I were judging you, you would be consigned to the deepest pits of Hell. Knowing
the love and loyalty your best friend had for you, I suspect he would forgive
you. I wish I could.
For the
record: The above letter was the first I ever wrote with regard to animals I
have rescued. "L'il Bit" still lives with me. When he first came to
live with me, he was so young that he didn't have his permanent canine teeth
yet. Within a week, his personality was beginning to develop and the over
whelming fear he had shown at first was vanishing, little by little.
His
greatest pleasure now, besides running the squirrels out of the back yard, is
to sleep at my side. Either at the side of my recliner in the living room: when
I doze off, I often awake to find a head or a paw resting on my arm and a pair
of very soulful eyes gazing at me as though to say "I'm here, are you
OK?" or when I go to bed, actually lying by my side, as close as he can
get.
In my
younger days, I didn't like having a dog sleeping in my bed. Now, I find the
presence of a warm, loving, living creature beside me comforting, often
reaching out during the night and giving him a pat or a rub.
(Author unknown)
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