One of the most common reasons pets are given up to the shelter is “we are moving and can’t take Rover with us.” A look at the subject from Rover’s point of view, by Jim Willis, noted poet and animal advocate.

Copyright Jim Willis 2001, all rights reserved.

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 bellyrub.

My housetraining 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, 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. 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 or cat, 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, 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 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. 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 meant for 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

Meet Curly (notice the tail?), our Pet of the Week.

Curly is a Chihuahua mixed with some long-legged breed, perhaps an Italian Greyhound. He is around five months old and is in foster care at my house. Curly came to the shelter as a stray, and was very frightened at first, especially of men. He is coming out of his shell and is learning lots of new things.

He loves to run in the backyard with the big dogs and his potty training is going well. We are remembering not to leave shoes and unread magazines laying around, and the cat is remembering all her old hiding places! He’s good on the leash and in the lap.

For more information, contact the Animal Shelter at 276-1152.

Parvo season is here with a vengeance. It has reared its ugly head at the shelter and in the community. Parvovirus is a viral contagion that affects primarily puppies, but dogs of any age can be affected by it. Symptoms include vomiting and diarrhea, both which can contain blood and mucus. Affected canines often sit at the water bowl drinking copious amounts of water and then vomit it all back up again almost immediately. While there is no real cure, it can be prevented by a series of 3 vaccinations given 3 weeks apart, starting as young as 5 weeks of age, then boosted annually thereafter. While vaccinated dogs may still get the disease, the vaccinated dog will have an easier time recovering, or will have a milder version of the illness.

If you suspect your dog or puppy has parvo, do the following: Call your veterinarian immediately and get the animal into see him or her as soon as possible. A test can be administered to determine if the dog does indeed have the disease and proper treatment can begin. If the test is negative, your dog may have just eaten something which disagrees with him, or may have been poisoned by something he has ingested, so it is critical to figure out what exactly you are dealing with as soon as possible. If the test is positive for parvovirus, your vet will give you several options, which will include a mild diet, forcing fluids orally, and perhaps subcutaneously, and antibiotics to head off secondary opportunistic infections. He may also prescribe an antiemetic to help your dog stop vomiting. Depending on how far advanced the disease is when diagnosed, hospitalization may be advised so that iv fluids can be administered. Left untreated the animals will almost surely die a terrible death, and will potentially infect any other canines in the household. It is critical that caregivers practice good hygiene as the virus is spread by contact. Take care that hands are washed thoroughly, and that blankets are washed in hot water, preferably with bleach. Areas where the animal has been kept should also be cleaned thoroughly with a bleach solution. If the animal has been in the yard area, the virus may stay in the soil up to a year, so take care that unprotected animals are not introduced into the environment until the danger has passed.

If you are thinking of getting a puppy this season, keep in mind that puppies from your neighbor’s back yard, the pet store, or the shelter all may have been exposed to this dreaded and deadly disease. Puppies from the shelter will have been given at least one vaccination, but it takes at least two before any immunity at all is present, and the series of three is required for peace of mind. Be vigilant. Be proactive. Get the dog the entire series of vaccinations as soon as possible and be prepared to deal with parvovirus if it shows up in your new pet. You both will be glad you did.

Ben Stein, noted columnist and actor, says whatever troubles life hands you, help is as close as your local pound or kennel. Check it out:

The Divinity of Dogs video on Youtube.

As a volunteer,I have been going to the Animal Shelter for almost 12 years. Today I saw something that I have not seen there before. A medical service dog had been turned in as a stray. Luckily the dog was wearing tags and his service dog vest. A shelter employee contacted his owner and she rushed in to claim him.

When I think of the Animal Shelter, several thoughts come to mind. The shelter is old, small and crowded, filled with great animals, most of which belonged to irresponsible owners. It’s the place where adoptable animals are euthanized as a last resort. It’s the place where pure bred dogs share space with mixed breeds. (Last Saturday 5 dogs were taken to the shelter and 4 of them were pure bred dogs.) It’s a place where most dogs are not reclaimed by the owners. But, the thought I sometimes forget about the shelter, and that I know most people never think about, is that the Animal Shelter truly is a safe haven for lost pets.

Accidents happen and even cherished pets and service dogs can turn up at the shelter. Whatever the accident; the wind knocking down a fence, an ambulance taking away an owner, a kid opening a gate, or a dog rushing out of an open door, well cared for pets accidentally become lost. There are so many hazards out on the streets for a stray that a pet being taken to the shelter can be a good thing. The shelter keeps the pet safe for at least 3 working days. That should be enough time for an owner to reclaim their pet.

So, no matter what pops to mind when you think about the animal shelter, think SAFE.